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Subject:      FUR: fauris.txt (1/4) (M/M, magic, transform)
From:         narzil@hotmail.com (Narzil Blade)
Date:         1997/06/28
Message-ID:   <199706281951.MAA15032@f38.hotmail.com>
Newsgroups:   alt.sex.furry
[More Headers]


I've had to split this story into 4 arbitrary parts, which will appear 
over the next couple of days. E-mail me your comments! :)


[Warning: the following story contains sex between and adult male
human and adult male satyrs, and transformation. Read on at your
own  risk. This story is Copyright (c) 1997 by Narzil. Feel free
to  redistribute, but please leave the story and this introductory
message intact.]



Satyrborn  (by Narzil)
---------

(written with much thanks to K.(H.) for input)

Come, my fellow satyrs; bring your merriment closer to the fire!
That way not only may your merriment continue, but we may all see
it and, moreover, listen to the tale which I am about to tell.
For the tale of Fauris is one not-often heard, which should be
told more often!

Now, Fauris - that was not his original name, but this will
explain itself later - was a human youth of Athens.  And in
Athens, he tended the family stables and inn, which were lacking,
sadly, of a drinking tavern.  Being his parents' only son, it was
to him the family business would be passed to, and it was this
which Fauris expected, with no qualms, to be his life.  His
parents then had strong hopes that Fauris, being young, would soon
be married, and thus be able to have children and continue the
family tradition.  But Fauris was (that is, by human standards),
homely, and was unable to woo the women in his life for long.

It was then one late summer, when a man, richly adorned, came to
the inn with four great horses, seeking shelter for himself and
stables for his steeds. The parents were much excited, for not
only did he require much housing, but he offered to pay in gold!
So they called for their son Fauris to fetch the man's horses to
the stables while they would show the traveler to his room. But
upon Fauris' arrival, the man stared dumbstruck at him and stood
longtime in silence.

Fauris' parents looked back and forth between the two in
puzzlement. They first turned their eyes to their son, who on
occasion would have forgotten to wash his neck, or would sometimes
wear a dirty shirt; but Fauris was clean and expressed as much
puzzlement as they.  The rich traveler, on the other hand,
continued to stare with an expression of surprise, wonder, and
deep thought. At last he said, "If this lad may take my prize
stallion to the stables, then I shall stay here for the night.
But I should ask you to be careful, for he is my prize stallion,
who I intend to run and bet in the annual Athenian races
tomorrow."

Fauris quickly began to fetch the horse, seeing the lavishness of
the man's garments and his parents' expectant faces.  The horse
was indeed a mighty beast, black and glossy and in its prime, a
fine racing horse. As he approached, it snorted and pounded the
ground with a hoof impatiently, and so he took special care.
Leading it slowly to the stables across the yard, Fauris did as he
would normally do, but trying to conceal his slight nervousness
and walking perhaps more self- consciously than normal.

When suddenly without provocation the horse whinnied, reared, and
knocked him over, bruising his arm and his shirt tearing.  As the
horse ran free, his parents rushed out to herd it into an
enclosure, while the traveler ran out to Fauris and lifted him to
his feet with a strong hand.

"Sir," said Fauris, "Why is it your horse reared for no reason?  I
have hurt my arm and my shirt has become torn, and instead of
helping my parents capture your steed, you simply stare at me more
closely than ever."

"I do not think you are meant for stabling horses," the traveler
replied, but also winked strangely; "And your clumsiness has upset
my best stallion.  I will not be staying at this inn tonight.
Good-bye." And with that, the man collected his mounts and
departed.

Needless to say, Fauris' parents were furious, and refused to hear
any of Fauris' protests of innocence.  They did not wish to speak
with him over their supper, and by nightfall his father told him
he was to no longer work the stables, but only the inn.  And
Fauris' heart sank, for tending the horses was something he had
always enjoyed.

That night, Fauris was unable to sleep.  The air was hot and
humid, and he tossed and turned, sweaty on his bed, while a
terrible headache rumbled through his head, like the stomping of a
hundred hoofbeats.  And every time he would close his eyes and
rest, he would be disturbed by the loud hooting of an owl outside
his window.  Several times he rose and stood naked by the window
in the full moonlight trying to spy the bird and chase it away,
but always it would flutter out of sight, only to return to its
branch again when he went to lay back down.

The following days and weeks were equally insecure for the young
human. Working the inn, regardless of how well-kept the rooms
were, an infestation of rats came.  Dishes would break whilst he
carried them, and the tenants complained of noises at night and a
terrible stench during the day.  Moreover, every horse that Fauris
passed would rear up on its hind legs in panic, so that he soon
had to stay well away from the stables, the market, and busier
roads.

And so a fortnight passed, with his parents becoming increasingly
distressed with the ill luck which had befallen them and the
growing lack of business. Finally, on a terribly hot day, the
stench of the inn grew worse than ever, and part of the stable
roof collapsed for no reason.  At this, the parents called their
son to them and demanded to know what he had done to bring such
disorder to their home.

"I have done nothing," Fauris protested, "And this all began when
that rich traveler's horse attacked me."

But his parents were of another opinion.  "You have done offense
to the traveler, his steeds, and to the tradition of hospitality,
Fauris," they scolded him.  "We can no longer have you in the
house until you do penance for your misdeeds.  Go to the temple,
go to the Oracle if you have to, even search out the traveler
himself; and rid yourself and us of this curse you have brought
down upon your family.  Only then may you truly return here."

And so, the next morning Fauris left his family home, confused and
angry, and walked into the bustling streets of Athens.  But
because his temple was placed at the far end of the city, and
because Fauris could not take the main roads for fear of rioting
the many horses and carriages along his way, he was forced to take
a long, circuitous path through narrower, dirtier streets,
skirting around the edge of the city.

It was by that time noon, and he had only gone halfway to his
temple, when he stopped in a small enclosed marketplace to eat and
rest.  As he sat on a bench in the shade and ate, Fauris suddenly
felt the grip of a strong hand on his shoulder.  Turning his head,
he was surprised to find it came from a blind, aged man, wrinkled
and bent, who did not look strong at all.

"Pardon me, citizen," said the man, "Could you spare a coin for an
aged seer?"

"I am sorry," replied Fauris, who was not overly sympathetic to
beggars, "But I am in a hurry."

"Yes, you are in a hurry to your temple where you seek to cure
yourself of your great misfortunes," said the old man.  "This I
sense."

To this, Fauris blinked and quickly adopted more reverence for the
old man, having heard that the blind sometimes see more than
normal men. "Please sir, what would you know of my troubles, from
whence they come, and what I may do to cure them?"

The seer took Fauris' hand and searched it with his touch.  "You
have worked in a stable, and you are young.  But you tremble,
because unwelcome events have befallen you which you cannot
explain nor control."  Fauris nodded and sat still as the old man
concentrated, and it felt as if cold fingers were reaching into
his very soul.

"You have been cursed," the seer continued, "For reasons I cannot
fathom, by one of the Gods.  The Great Lord Pan.  He who rules
over the rites of mystery for adult men, and god of horses,
satyrs, forests, fields, and shepherds, and of drunken revelry and
excess, it is he who has cursed you.  It is to him you must go to
find the answers you seek. Go not to your common temple.  Seek
instead the temple of Pan, not far from this place.  This I see
you must do."

Fauris nodded and asked the seer what more he knew, but the old
man could say no more.  Fauris placed a few coins in the old man's
palm, and the seer gave to him directions to the temple, and then
hobbled away until Fauris could no longer see him in the crowd.
Then finishing his meal, he rose to go to the temple, reasoning
that if the visit proved unsuccessful, he could yet go visit his
regular temple.  Fauris was not accustomed to visiting the altar
of a specific god, as his own temple was a general one dedicated
to all the gods.

He found the temple not far from the marketplace as the seer had
said, and Fauris ascended its great staircase with some
nervousness.  The temple stone was of dark marble, of an
otherworldly air quite unlike the surrounding buildings.  He was
both nervous and curious, for as a boy, Fauris had often admired
the strange rites of mystery that were part of the cult of Pan in
Athens.

Now Pan is the lord of us satyrs; of nature and the forests, both
in their beauty and danger.  He is patron of shepherds and their
flocks, and of all creatures with hooves.  Lastly, he personifies
the joys of wine, of frolicking and revelry, especially of males.
And it was passionate scenes of all this which decorated the long,
columned corridor leading deep into the temple, etched into the
dark stone.

And Fauris, being the young and budding human that he was, could
not help but be slightly aroused by the sensuous depictions on the
walls about him.  At first he was embarrassed at himself, but then
remembering the annual processions of the cult through the streets
of Athens, realized that such display was not unexpected nor
unwelcome within the House of Pan.

It was then he reached the end of the temple corridor, to where it
became darkest and the smells were damp and earthy.  A black
crystal altar glittered like stars in the faint torchlight,
covered with furskins and ivy wreaths. But what truly caught the
human's attention were the four great statues to each side.

Here were the statues of the four Great Equids, each upright and
with thickly muscled human arms, hands and torso, but in all other
respects retaining their equestrian forms, and each sporting a
gloriously virile erection, polished to reflect the light and
appear wet, shiny, ready.

Here was the Minotaur, strong, stocky and bestial, carved of black
onyx to the very tips of his long black horns, bovine muzzle
snarled in a stern leer, his great bullcock the mightiest of all,
long and thick between his legs.  And here was the Pegasus, winged
and regal, of pink granite and poised to fly, offering an
unparalleled view of his streamlined attributes with which to lift
his mate into the skies with him.

And here too was the fierce unicorn in white marble, regal and
lean, the essence of nature in streamlined athleticness.  Its head
bowed to point its great spiraling horn at the viewer, it stood
poised to usher virgins into its sensuous realm.  And lastly was
the satyr, sculptured in deep red jasper. Reclining against a
treestump, its powerful goatlegs apart in relaxation, the satyr's
hand held aloft its proud erection, reaching out with its other
hand to take the hand of the viewer.

Fauris stopped in front of the satyr sculpture and stared, as if
Zeus' lightning bolt had struck him dead.  There was something
captivating about the statue for the human which he could not
explain.  His mind was a muddle of thoughts.  Here, a human male,
who had lain with females of his kind suddenly found himself in
great admiration of all these four statues.  His mouth damp, he
took a step towards the satyr statue, drawn by its strange
inviting and lustful gaze.

But then Fauris heard a voice behind him.  "Greetings, follower."
He turned to see the temple priest, a tall man with a great beard,
shrouded in a large leaf-green cloak.  "Have you come to do
service to your Lord Pan?"

To this Fauris replied, "Truthfully, I am not a follower of Great
Pan, yet my woes have taken me to his house."

"Perhaps you do not follow Pan in name, but in spirit," the priest
replied, reaching down and touching Fauris with his palm where the
human's erection pressed against the fabric of his tunic.  "For
only those with Pan in their hearts react so upon seeing the holy
statues. Be at peace, be at leisure here.  What ails you so?"

Fauris explained his tale to the priest in detail, from beginning
to end. Hearing this, the priest nodded gravely and stood in
thought.  At last he stroked his beard and seemed to be trying to
hold back a light smile.  "If your story be true, perhaps it is
you that our oracle foretook to tell us of. The oracle speaks in
riddles, but so too is your curse.  If you have indeed offended
Pan so strongly, there is little recourse."

"What must I do?" asked Fauris.

"You must travel to Pan's sacred grounds, the wild forests of
wooded Arcadia, and there be taught the tradition of hospitality
which you failed to provide." The priest paused.  "But our oracle
suggested this journey would be more than that, of your life
undergoing a great and wondrous change, and that you would know
the essence of Pan inside you."

Fauris was surprised, he did not understand why he would have to
make such a great journey for a law he was not sure he had
transgressed.  "Is it so necessary?  What did the oracle mean?"

"I cannot say.  Perhaps I am not meant to say."  The priest
inspected the human's face carefully.  "But I sense something of
the Great Pan in you.  You say you are not a follower, but perhaps
you have yet to learn. Will you undertake this journey?"

"Yes," said Fauris, "For only then may I hope to understand that
which has befallen me."

The priest nodded and walked behind a curtain, returning in short
time with a parchment and large flask.  "These I may give you for
your journey," the priest explained.  "This map to bring you to
the edge of the Arcadian forests, and this drinking flask."

Fauris, curious, began to undo the flask's stopper.  "Nay, do not
open it!" cried the priest to stop him.  Fauris stopped.  "That
flask contains some of this temple's precious holy water.  Spill
not a drop; touch not a drop until you reach the forests of
Arcadia.  Only then may you begin to drink it, for it will show
you to be a visitor to the woods, not a woodcutter or a poacher.
Go swiftly now, begin your journey when the next sun rises."  The
priest reached down, blessing Fauris' erection with a strong hand.
"Let the Great Pan be with you."

The priest escorted Fauris to the door of the temple, and bid him
good travels.  As Fauris descended the temple steps, he turned to
look back, but the priest's green cloak had already vanished into
the darkness of the temple. And yet, Fauris believed he could hear
the sound of hoofs walking on marble.

Fauris hurried home, to the surprise of his parents, as the sun
was setting. He explained to them the journey he would have to
undertake, and they agreed sadly, wishing there was some easier
way for their son to take, since the oracle had not said how long
the journey would take, if Fauris even survived at all.  But what
also distressed them was Fauris' description of the temple, for
Fauris' mother had been in its area a week earlier, and had
thought the temple to be a ruin.

And so Fauris' parents fretted over him and gave him all sorts of
supplies and advice on what roads to take and what sort of people
to avoid at inns and alehouses along the way.  Fauris knew they
meant well, but opted to only take a few possessions with him for
his journey; and the following morning he set out as the sun rose
pink above the horizon.

Fauris' journey was a long one, for Arcadia is much removed from
the well- populated areas of Greece, and a great distance from
Athens. Still, Fauris was an unassuming human in appearance (to
other humans), and being of a friendly disposition, did not meet
with any disreputable characters along his way.

In fact, Fauris' health became much improved in the country air,
his body becoming firm and lean and tan with all the walking
outdoors and  living on a light diet.  Walking was all the human
could do, since no horses would carry him, although birds would
occasionally fly with him, high in the sky.  And so as summer
began to turn to fall, and the leaves began to turn their color
while the weather remained warm, the human came to the edges of
the great forests of Arcadia.

Fauris then opened the flask which had been given to him and
tested the water with his finger, which to his surprise became
mildly numb. Tasting it, a strange sensation ran through his body.
Part of the water's taste was sweet and gave him a comfortable
warm tingle, but another part of the water's taste was dark and
chilling and cast a fog on his thoughts.

The human felt a great need to enter the forest, and now his sense
of smell became heightened, for the Arcadian forest had that same,
earthy smell he had sensed in the temple.  Fauris drank slowly as
he embarked into the forest. The sun was shining, but there was no
wind, and no animals rustled the leaves.

As Fauris walked on and continued to drink, his mind became hazy.
He could not remember what temple he had encountered the smell in,
and after an hour's more walking, he could not remember the
temple, only that the smell was familiar.  Time seemed to slow.
Fauris drank more, and could not recall where he was from, or
where he was...only that it was important he go on.  His path
through the forest began to meander as he lost all sense of
bearing.

The sun shone too brightly through the trees...Fauris began to
sweat, his limbs feeling heavy, tired, and hot.  He drew off his
shirt and left it on a treebranch, and then forgot he had done so,
walking onwards and drinking more from his flask, which was almost
empty.  It was so terribly hot...

The sweet taste of the water sent chills through him, tickling his
senses, making him sensitive and horny.  His penis hardened
quickly under his clothing, buzzing with energy as his mind buzzed
with the sound of a hundred bees.  It was so hot...Fauris removed
all his clothing, letting his erection spring free from the
painful prison of his clothes, his body sweating heavily as he
abandoned all of his belongings except for his flask, and stumbled
deeper into the Arcadian forests.

Fauris slumped as he walked.  He emptied the flask and carried it
limply in his hand.  All his limbs, his head, his bones, his feet,
felt so incredibly hot and heavy.  Where was he?  Why was he here?
Who was he? The human had by now even forgotten his name.  His
body ached for rest, and his penis ached for release.  At last,
the human could take no more, and lay down on the grass to rest.
He closed his hand around his erection at the same time his eyes
closed, and drifted into a deep, eternal sleep.

 * * *

Now, my fellow satyrs, delay your fornication for a while and
listen, for this is where our kind enters the story!  As you know,
Arcadia's woods have eternally been the home of many satyr bands,
for it is there that Pan rules, and satyrs will not often be
bothered by outsiders.

A small group of satyrs, perhaps five in number, were waiting not
far inside the edge of the forest, waiting for three of their
brethren to return from an excursion to a local human settlement,
where they were not adverse to their presence nor their commerce.
When the three satyrs arrived, they said they had been perplexed
by the smell of a human along their path, something quite unusual.
And so the eight went to investigate, following the scent with
their sensitive nostrils until they came upon where the slumbering
human lay

You see, a human in the Arcadian woods was almost unheard of, for
the forest itself kept most away.  Not only that, but this human
was completely unclothed, and terribly, terribly thin.  The satyrs
did not know he had fallen asleep two days before, and was slowly
starving.  Had they known, they would have been further perplexed
that no wild animal had eaten him, nor had any insect bitten him.

Nor could they awake the human.  They shook him, pinched, and
poked; they yelled out the great terrifying shout for which satyrs
are well- known for fleeing their enemies into a panic; they tried
to arouse and titillate the human's flaccid penis; they even tried
holding his nose and mouth shut - but all to no avail.  The human
slept too deeply

One of the satyrs discovered the flask, which had rolled out of
the human's limp hands and under a bush.  Opening it (in the hopes
of finding wine, of course), the smell of the empty flask
intrigued him. "Here is the cause of his rest," the satyr said.
"I smell something magical here.  There is something of a satyr to
the odor, and yet there is something else, dark and indistinct."

The satyrs debated what to do - leave the human alone, and hope
his sleep would end soon; or carry him to the nearby human
village, which could be his home; or bring him with them and seek
the wisdom of the rest of the satyr band.

It was this last decision they settled upon.  Humans were not as
knowledgeable of the Gods and their magics, and they sensed some
purpose to the human's presence, because the forest had accepted
him.  Neither could they leave the human to starve.  But more so,
they were fascinated by this human's beauty. While humans would
not have considered him too comely, in the eyes of the satyrs, the
human's entire form was lithe, shapely, suggestive.  And so they
strung a cloth between two poles and carefully bore him with them.

It was not long before they reached the home of their band, a
large glen with a wide clearing, where the tree branches leaned
over to form a natural roof. In the center was a great bonfire,
around which the satyrs partook of their daily passion and lived
their lives.  And when the small group returned bearing the human
with them, there were cries of excitement and surprise, hooves
clattering as the entire band came to see the unusual prize.

"What is it?  Whose lover is he?  How much did it take to make him
drunk? He's sexy, can we keep him?  Let us in on the prank you're
going to do with him!" were some of the cries from the
enthusiastic satyrs. Most of them thought the ones who had gone to
the human settlement had gotten a human there drunk and then had
kidnapped him for a mischievous trick.

Other satyrs there had never seen a human before, and were very
curious, their phalli pulsing as they beheld this strange
creature.  "Is this truly a human?" asked one.  "No wonder you
enjoy visiting the humans - you did not tell us they were so
sensuous!"

"Nay, nay," replied one of the satyrs who had carried the human.
"Human males are not often handsome, this one is the exception to
the rule.  It is sad he is not erect, like us.  And we did /not/
make him drunk," he said to the chiding remarks from the others
around him.  "We found him asleep, within the border of the
forest.  He has been enchanted into a sleep, and we feared for his
health, and we seek the wisdom of the band."

One of the more randy satyrs examined the human more closely,
crouching to sniff at the human's bare genitals, and rubbing them
experimentally with his hand, trying to arouse him.  "So
frail...even for a human. Will he not wake?"

"Nay, we tried that," the other satyr explained.  "We think he
drank an enchanted potion.  We thought it best to bring him here
rather than the human settlement, because the forest has accepted
him.  How can we wake him?"

Two of the elder satyrs examined the empty flask, but neither of
them could identify what it once held.  "But there is no doubt
this is the source of his enchantment," one said.  "We can try
what spells we know, but some will take much time to prepare for
casting.  Let us keep him four days - if we fail, let us return
him to the humans."

"Only four days!" many of the satyrs complained, who were looking
forward to cavorting with the human.  "Still, we can make the best
of it," one of them said, "Let us make him a bed!"  They carried
the human not too far from the fire by a treestump, laying him
down on a soft bed of heather.

"Hold, hold!" the elder satyr warned.  "Much as it pains me to
say, I must ask everyone not to molest this human."  The other
satyrs cried out in immediate dismay.  "Humans are fragile, and
should one of us work ourselves into an ecstasy, I would fear for
the human's health.  If we are to be his healers, let us err on
the side of caution," explained the elder satyr.  "And while we
would sometimes molest a sleeping human, that would be enough to
wake them, to either refuse our advances or enjoy them.  This
human cannot even do that."

Many of the satyrs protested, but understood their elder's
reasoning. It was already late in the day, and the satyrs settled
into their usual sexual activities.  Some of the elder satyrs
spent their time casting light spells over the human -
dispellings, removal of curses and geases, but none seemed to
work.  And so they gave up for the day, and went to sleep.

 * * *

The next morning a new problem presented itself: the sleeping
human would neither eat nor drink.  At first, this did not worry
the satyrs. Not being familiar with humans, they thought it was
only a matter of positioning the human in the correct position.

They quickly abandoned the idea of the human eating, for no one
eats while they sleep; chewing and swallowing is too difficult.
The satyrs instead worked on bringing the human to drink.  Trying
water at first, merely pouring it into the human's mouth failed.
He would not swallow, and would begin to choke, but still this did
not awake him.

They tried sitting the human up.  They tried him standing, with a
satyr pressed against him on each side to keep him standing.  They
tried tilting his head back.  They tried lifting and lowering his
arms like a pump.  But nothing would work.  One of the cleverer
satyrs proposed that the human's enchantment permitted him only to
drink from the flask with which he had been found, but this too
failed.

And then the satyrs began to worry.  For the more advanced spells
which the elder satyrs had prepared overnight failed to work as
well.  Nothing they tried would make any difference in the human's
sleep.  Even worse, when an augury was attempted, even the spirits
would not tell them their riddles - something about the
enchantment bade them to remain silent. The day passed with no
success, and the human looked thinner than ever. And while the
satyrs enjoyed the sight of the human's lithe form, they were sure
it was not healthy, yet they despaired of a cure.

There were other attempts to wake him, of course.  More poking and
prodding, pouring cold water over him, even taking burning sticks
from the fire and having the human inhale the smoke.  Of course,
some of the satyrs could not resist fondling the human's genitals.
The elder satyrs protested at first, but then thought no harm
could come of it if it went no further.  But sadly, the human did
not respond even to this.

Now, it was one of the satyrs, Neirus, who that evening had gotten
drunk with his fellow satyrs on the strong wine they had made.  It
had gotten quite late, and most of the elders had gone asleep from
the dancing, and so the drunken satyrs raised their flagons to the
sleeping human.

"Oh, Fates!" they cried out.  "To tempt us with such a beautiful
being, that we cannot fornicate with nor even excite with our
combined talents! To a cure!"  To which they raised their flagons.
"Here," said one. "Could it be that perhaps the problem lies in
what the human will drink, rather than with the action of
drinking?"  His fellows, being drunk, did not understand.  The
satyr re-explained with a smirk.  "Mayhap the human would drink
wine rather than water?"

This, the satyrs understood.  And, satyrs being great pranksters,
thought it would be fun to try (regardless of the drunken unwisdom
of the idea).  Of course, it did not work, and the satyrs went to
sleep, hoping the next day their luck would change.

But Neirus had been struck with a different drunken idea.  If the
human would not take water nor wine, would he take a satyr's seed?
Neirus waited until all his companions were asleep, while stroking
his erection.  Without a doubt, most of the satyrs in the band had
wished they could get the human to join in their revelries, as the
human was so very handsome and appealing.  Neirus was drunk and
horny, and satyrs will be satyrs, and so he did not mind breaking
the elder satyr's advice.

Neirus approached the sleeping human, holding his throbbing cock
in his hand. Kneeling down over the human's naked form, he could
not stop but to admire the human's smooth, pale skin in the
moonlight, and the fair musculature of his build.  Gently, he
placed the warm tip of his phallus to the human's lips, and guided
his cocktip into the human's mouth.



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