[pre-story]Content Warnings: Impossible anatomy (huge cock, excessive cum), ball worship, cum-play[/pre-story]
Chapter 1: Seeking a Sweeter Satyr
The cool morning air of the glade was was still, silent but for the songs of birds and the buzz of insects, the soft, emerald grass glistening with a fresh coat of morning dew in the golden shafts of sunlight filtering down through the canopy above. This was a sacred place, where the Shrouded Woods thinned, the towering trees and dense underbrush kept at bay by the will of the Green God, leaving a pristine glade where the Enirii could perform their most sacred rites. All around the edges of the space, like silent wardens watching over the glade, stood a ring of ancient stone statues, all different sizes, some depicting curvaceous, womanly figures, fertile bellies swollen with the gift of life, others depicted strong, masculine figures with goatlike legs and crowns of antlers, wielding unyielding erections, while still others were simpler, towering monoliths of virility, carved stone phalluses that would never soften. Flowering vines wound over the stone surfaces, embracing the fertile female and virile male icons, and climbing up the masculine pillars like bulging veins. Atop each icon, there sat a wreath of fresh flowers, tokens of faith from the Greenleaf tribe that frequented the glade.
The undergrowth at the edge of the glade rustled, a curtain of leaves parting as a youthful, womanly figure tentatively emerged into the open space. She was nude but for her beaded jewelry, every inch of her soft, curvaceous form on full display, much of her flawless honey-tan skin tattooed a warm, earthy red, tribal patterns in the ink depicting leaves, flowers, sprouting seeds, suns, moons, and flames. A river of chestnut-brown hair flowed behind her, cascading down her shoulders and back, almost to her generous backside. The curtain of hair was held back out of her face by the ceremonial crown of leaves she wore, a woven circlet held together by a tiny statuette of feminine fertility, much like the ones ringing the the glade. She had no need for modesty, her body was a vision of perfection from head to toe. Her legs were strong and shapely, widening from small, delicate feet to thick, creamy thighs. Her hips were wide, generous by almost any measure, supporting the swaying, jiggling twin globes of a simply mouth-watering ass, and bearing a dense bush of soft chestnut-brown hair just above her womanhood, a thicket never trimmed or shaved, but naturally well-contained, leaving the lips of her womanhood soft and smooth. Her figure tapered sharply at the waist, only to widen out once more at the chest, giving her a clear hourglass shape. But above all else, her breasts were her most spectacular feature, mounds easily the size of ripe grapefruit and yet still flawless, standing proudly on her chest, the pillow-soft peaks capped with long, thick, dusky pink nipples that practically begged to be sucked. Young she may be, but there was no mistake, everything about her screamed that she was a woman, ripe and ready for breeding.
Alika bit her lip as she crept into the sacred glade, teeth sinking into the soft, pillowy flesh. It felt somehow wrong to be here alone, like she was intruding on the sacred place. In her mind, she knew she was doing exactly what the glade was there for, that she'd come of age officially at the First Taste of the Life Seed, and now she was to go into the woods and find a satyr mate, and yet, she was still nervous. Satyrs were intimidating creatures, with their great size and strength, their wild and volatile tempers, and condescending demeanor. She knew they would never really hurt her, and in truth, her womanly core was still warm with arousal after watching one ravage the high priestess before her eyes and tasting his seed on the priestess' lips. She knew, and yet... she just couldn't bring herself to approach one. But still her need wouldn't let her just give up. So she'd come here. If she couldn't approach them, maybe they could approach her...
Alika looked around the glade, searching nervously for a moment, only to freeze as her eyes fell upon one statute in particular. A womanly figure, heavily pregnant like the rest, but this one was overshadowed by a massive horned satyr behind it, the male's arms wrapped around the woman's body in a tender embrace as she held her hands out, palms cradling a spiralling, hollowed-out animal horn. That was it! Alika approached the statue nervously, bare feet padding on the soft grass until she stood directly in front of it, staring down at the horn. After a moment, she closed her eyes, straightened up, and reached out, reverently lifting the horn from its resting place. She lifted it into position, drew in a deep breath, pressed it to her lips, and blew, the winding instrument blasting forth a long, clear note that rang out in all directions through the dense forest. The sound called out to the satyrs of the Shrouded wood with a clear message: time to mate.
Alika pulled the horn from her lips and gingerly replaced it in the statues hands. All the beasts and birds nearby had either fled or been startled into hiding by the sudden note, and the silence in the wake of her call was nearly deafening. Nagging doubts swiftly filled the silence. Had any satyrs heard the call? What if none came? What if they came, and then rejected her? She shook her head, trying to shake those thoughts away. She was being paranoid, when she should be getting ready for the arrival of her mate. She sank to her knees in the dewy grass, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, assuming the pose of supplication. As soon as a satyr arrived, she would be ready... The silence stretched on interminably, and nothing came. Her knees grew sore, and still nothing came. Sunbeams roamed across her honey-tan flesh, and still nothing came. Finally her patience ran out, and she rose to her feet, pacing the glade nervously. Maybe she'd done it wrong. Blown the wrong note. Perhaps she should try it again, just to be certain... She froze she heard a rustle in the undergrowth by the edge of the glade.
She saw the wood-like antlers first, a wide rack of branching points looming out of the undergrowth like a crown growing from his forehead, giving his proud, not-quite-human features a regal bearing. His eyes were far from human, a pair of smooth, featureless orbs of warm hazel, set beneath a thoughtful, expressive brow, pointed ears twitching at the sides of his head. His skin was a pale green color, and his long, swept-back hair, soft beard, and the fur covering much of his body was all the same mossy shade of greenish-brown. As he emerged into the glade fully, his impressive body was revealed entirely. His torso was a rippling expanse of smooth, hairless muscle, hard as oak and perfectly sculpted, bearing only a triangular thicket of fur at the center of his chest. The fur really started at his elbows and waist, covering everything but his large, blunt-clawed hands and the middle portion of his double-jointed legs, the furry lower portions ending in large, black, cloven hooves. Between his furry thighs there was a sheath, his member hidden within, but if it was anything like the pair of awe-inspiring orbs that hung below, it would be immense. His testicles hung fat and heavy between his legs, swollen with virile, pent-up seed and raw life energy until they seemed to strain at the smooth, hairless sack, desperate for release after far too long without.
