Eros in Arcadia
Mythica**: Tales of Myth and Legend**
This story is an erotic fantasy based on myth and legend. I have stuck as close as possible to ancient Greek myth while writing a gay fantasy.
Be aware that this story includes incest and sex with mythical creatures.
For those who appreciate this kind of story read on; others be forewarned.
This story is fantasy. In the real-world consent is not only important, but also sexy.
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You can contact me at pseudonominius@gmail.com.
Author's Notes
· If you want to be informed of new stories, send me an email, and ask to be put on the notification list. I'll send a notification. Everyone will be on the bcc line so your email address will not show to other members.
· I have created a google group for people who want to get more information about my stories in that format. Only I can view the member list, so data should be secure. If a reader sends a question my way, I will post the answer to that group after removing any information about the reader. It's a good way to get more background information if you want. https://groups.google.com/g/pseudominius-stories
· This story may continue if there is interest in it, and there may be future stories based on Myths and Legends. If that happens, I will put them together into a folder and call it Mythica.
· This story is a bonus release to celebrate four new members of my google group in one day.
· My Stories
Eros in Arcadia 1
Xanthos, Arsenios and Kallias were Arcadian goatherds who tended their flocks on the slopes of Mount Oligyrtos near the pine forests that were sacred to the Great God Pan. Their family had tended their flocks in this area for generations, and for all that time, they had been warned never to enter the woods from twilight until dawn. It was their habit when camping with their goats in the high pastures to take turns keeping watch throughout the night.
One spring night, while they were encamped just under the eaves of the forest, they drew lots to determine who would take the first watch. By chance it was Kallias, the youngest of the brothers, just past his thirteenth birthday, who drew the first watch. He was the most attractive of the brothers, with hair the color of ripened wheat, kissed by the sun with golden highlights. His eyes were large and expressive, and the greenish blue color of the sky. His slender body had just begun to develop the first hints of masculine definition, and his brothers kept close eye on him because his round butt attracted the attention of neighbors and strangers alike.
After a light supper, the boys were gathered around a small fire and enjoyed a few songs. Arsenios could play the lyre and Kallias had a fine singing voice. They sang songs of Daphnis and his death by the hand of jealous nymphs, and songs of herd boys who were lured into the woods by lascivious nymphs who carried them away to their doom.
As the two older brothers were settling in to sleep, Arsenios called out to Kallias. "You'd best watch out, Kallias, you're the right age for the nymphs to lure you to their hidden lair and have their wicked way with you. And don't go into the woods. A pretty boy like you will be easy prey for lecherous satyrs. They'll chase you down and stick their giant phalloi inside your ...."
"Stop it, Arsenios," Kallias said. "You're not going to make me too scared to keep watch this year. I'm too old for that now."
"But I still have to warn you about the sons of Lycaon, cursed to change to into wolves at nightfall and stalk the countryside, eating soft boys like you."
"Stop it, I said," Kallias yelled, throwing a clump of grass and dirt at his brother. He was laughing because he was grown up enough now to not believe in things that lurk in the night.
"Leave him alone, Arsenios," Xanthos said. "If he gets to scared and wakes me up, you're taking his watch as well as your own."
Arsenios laughed and settled down for his sleep. Soon he and Xanthos were both wrapped in their chlamyses, snoring. Kallias sat with his back to the fire so he wouldn't lose his night vision. The sun was down, and the goats were sleeping. As usual about half of them were asleep at a given time, while the others stood or sat watch. He tried to watch the tree line, but the shifting light made the shadows seem to move.
He thought about the tales Arsenios had used to try and scare him, like he did last year. He doubted nymphs would be able to lure him off never to be seen again. He had no desire to chase after girls, not even nature spirits, no matter how pretty they may be. If there were boy nymphs he might be tempted to chase after them, but none of the tales ever even hinted that a nymph could be anything other than a girl.
As for satyrs, the idea intrigued him. He'd seen some sculptures in the gardens in Mytilene when he'd gone to the city with his father. Some satyrs were old and ugly with the tails and ears of horses. Others were young and handsome with very small horse's ears and tails. Still others were young men with goat legs, tails, and horns. He could probably be lured into the woods by any of them.
Lately he'd noticed that his own phallos slowly grew stiff whenever he looked at boys, but it sprang to attention when he saw men, even his own brothers, especially the older and hairier Xanthos. The other day, he'd caught sight of him washing up, wearing only his loincloth, and his phallos had become so hard that he'd had to run out of the room. He'd hidden behind the barn and touched himself, slowly stroking his rod while he pictured Xanthos. He'd sucked his finger until it was wet and then he'd touched himself down there. The secret he didn't want to share with anyone was that the best feeling he'd ever had was when he took his finger and rubbed it against his prokton, the hole between his buttocks. He remembered how he'd let go of his stiff phallos and concentrated on that hole, rubbing it, and eventually slipping inside the muscular ring. Somehow he knew that there was a something special inside him that was just outside his reach. He played with his hole until it yielded and relaxed, allowing two fingers the space to slide in and out. Only then did he resume stroking his boyish rod until he came, his sphincter clenching his fingers in a firm bite. When his breathing had returned to normal he scooped his seed off his abdomen with the fingers that had been inside him and he ate it. He loved the taste of his own seed, but he was imagining that it was his brother's.
Now he was sitting on the grass just after nightfall watching the goats in the field. A cool breeze was blowing down from the mountain and the trees seemed to be sighing. Far off in the distance, the wind whistled like the music from a pipe.
Xanthos heard the music which was much clearer in his dream than it was in the waking world. He was dreaming of that day when Kallias had come upon him washing. He'd been standing in the washroom rubbing the rosemary scented oil into his skin to keep it from drying out. He'd already used unscented oil and a strigil to remove the dirt. The second coat was a pure luxury that his family could afford because they owned olive orchards and had rosemary growing in bushes around the garden.
He felt eyes on his back and heard someone give a sharp intake of breath. When he turned around, he caught sight of young Kallias running across the field toward the barn. He followed without being seen. When he peered around the corner, he heard his youngest brother moaning; the boy was stroking his small phallos and rubbing his prokton. In reality, he had watched the boy cum and then eat his own seed, but in the dream he himself had been more assertive.
Xanthos walked around the barn as quietly as he could. Kallias's eyes were closed, and he was pushing his fingers deeper into his hole. His lips were parted, and he was breathing heavily. Xanthos knelt between his Kallias's smooth boyish thighs and pulled the boy's fingers from his prokton, which was glistening with moisture from the boy's own spittle. Kallias's eyes flew open in fright and then began to tear up. The lips of his mouth trembled, but the lips of his beautiful boy hole seemed to quiver with anticipation.
"Don't cry, sweet boy," Xanthos said in his dreams. "You never need to cry now. I know your secret; let me show you mine."
He tossed his hastily donned chlamys aside and held his thick rod before him. Kallias's eyes grew wider. "Is this what you want, brother," Xanthos asked, waving his leaking cock like a wand.
Kallias nodded and then exclaimed, "Yes! Xanthos, I've been watching you every chance I get, and I wanted you to take me. I've been rolling my tunics about the waist to make them shorter, hoping that you would see my butt and touch it."
Xanthos pulled the boy's slender legs apart and exposed his quivering rosebud. Then he reached for the jar of olive oil that was lying near him and slowly teased him with an oily finger. He moaned, "Take me now, brother. Make me your Ganymede and I will serve you forever."
He slid inside him with more ease than he could have penetrated a virgin boy in the waking world and felt Kallias's warmth encircle his rod. It was tight and smooth. They moved together on the damp earth, man and boy locked together in a loving embrace.
"If you could become my brother-wife and bear children for me, I would never need another to share my bed," Xanthos said, kissing his brother's tender lips. "But when I do marry, it will not matter how often my husbandly duties call me to my wife's bed, you will be the one who shares my own bed and my heart."
"Yes, oh yes," Kallias cried. "If only I could bear your sons, then I would, but take me anyway. Make me yours. I only want you!"
With that utterance, the boy came. His prokton grabbed his brother's cock and squeezed it, milking it until it spilled deep within him. And Xanthos howled his own pleasure, not caring if they would be caught by Arsenios or their father. The crows take the consequences! He was claiming this boy now. If he could, he would lead him naked into the house, his seed still dripping from his round butt, and take him again before the hearth with everyone watching.
He pushed as deep as he could into that inviting warmth and yelled, "I claim you as my own now, and I will face any who challenge me."
And the two brothers collapsed together and fell asleep in the shade of the barn, worn out from their coupling.
Kallias was sure he saw motion at the edge of the forest, just out of sight. He unslung his sling and scanned the tree line, but it must have been his imagination because he didn't see anything out there. He sat back down and listened to the music of the sighing wind, which sounded even more like piping now.
He remembered last week when they still grazing their goats on the lower slopes, within easy reach of their family home. Father had been ill again (he hadn't really been well since he'd suffered that temporary paralysis last winter) and Xanthos had been supervising the slaves in tending the fields of hay that was coming in nicely. He and Arsenios had been wrestling after they'd eaten dinner. Arsenios had been trying to teach him some moves he'd learned from an older boy. They'd stripped down to their loincloths. Kallias was on his knees and his older brother was behind him, with his strong arms around his waist.
Arsenios was the middle brother. At sixteen years of age, his body had begun to take on the features of a man. He'd sprouted hair under his arms and on his forearms and calves, although he was still boyishly lean and smooth about the chest. His beard had started to come in and he had wispy strands across his upper lip and on his chin. Of all the boys, he was the darkest of skin and had the darkest hair. He still wore his raven curls hanging long to his collar and he sometimes held it back with a headband. He was smaller than Xanthos, but not by much, and his muscles were more clearly defined. His darkly handsome features always made Kallias go weak in the knees and made his small phallos become hard.
Kneeling in the wrestling position, Kallias could feel Arsenios's ample phallos pressing against his butt. It wasn't fully erect, but the middle brother filled a loincloth even when soft. Kallias prepared to give his best, but he knew he would soon be pinned by his more powerful brother. The truth was that he loved the feeling of helplessness when Arsenios pinned his arms above his head and pressed his erect cock against his own smaller but equally erect cock. And Arsenios would always smile at him. Last week his face had drawn so close to Kallias's that their lips had almost touched, but Arsenios gave him a knowing smirk and said, "If only you weren't my baby brother."
Kallias rearranged his erection inside his loincloth and settled back to watch the sheep.
Arsenios stirred in his sleep and gave a little moan. He was dreaming of the last time he'd wrestled with his youngest brother Kallias. It wasn't like the times he'd wrestled with Kallimakhos, Xanthos's older friend, the one who'd taught him over the years. With Kallimakhos, he always longed to be pinned, to be overpowered and then taken. Whenever the older boy – well Kallimakhos was more of a young man than a boy if the truth be told – whenever he defeated Arsenios, he would remove his loincloth and take him like a buck takes a doe and the younger boy would willingly open his legs. But with Kallias he felt powerful. He felt like the man, the erastes, and he thought of Kallias as his boy, his eramenos.
During their last wrestling session, he'd felt Kallias's smooth butt, and his hand had gently grazed his brother's erect cock. He knew that the boy was his for the taking, and that last time he'd pinned him, he'd drawn so close that he could feel Kallias's sweet breath upon him. He'd leaned forward and their lips had almost touched, but at the last moment he'd stopped and said, "If only you weren't my baby brother."
He'd never regretted any words the way he'd regretted those. But in his dream, the scenario didn't end there. Kallias had looked up at him and licked his lips, saying, "I know that you've always wanted to take me. What are you waiting for? Are you a man, or are you still a boy like me, a boy whose skin is feverish for your touch?
Then Arsenios leaned forward and kissed those pouty lips, only to feel Kallias open his mouth and invite his tongue to come inside. And then he'd kissed the boy the way Kallimakhos had always kissed him. He started gentle, but he became more aggressive with passing moment. Soon he was bruising his brother's lips and biting them, perhaps with a little more force than Kallias had been expecting.
Then he worked his mouth down the boy's narrow chest and across his soft stomach that still held the faintest remnants of baby fat. Then he saw the small phallos gently throbbing in his face. He opened his mouth and swallowed it. Kallias's rod was still small enough that it fit entirely inside his mouth, not even reaching his throat, let alone filling it completely like Kallimakhos's mighty rod did to him every chance he had to swallow it. He'd sucked the Kallias's cock until the boy screamed and came in his mouth, and he had a chance to savor the sweet boyish flavor.
He kissed his brother again and said, "It's my turn."
But Kallias had shaken his head and said, "No, brother. I'm not going to suck your phallos. Tonight, I'm going to make you a man."
He leaned back and pulled his knees to his chest, showing his tight little prokton. "Take me brother. Take me like a boy and make me scream."
Arsensios was overcome with lust. He'd been dreaming of this moment. He slid his cock inside Kallias's warm hole. He had nothing to compare it with, but it felt much tighter than a mouth and it gripped him with a powerful strength. Plunging into his brother made him feel like a man for the first time in his life, and it felt good.
Then he felt someone behind him, pressing against his own prokton, pushing inside him. The pleasure he always felt when he was taken by a man washed through his body. To his surprise, it didn't diminish the newfound feelings of virility that he was enjoying the pleasure of being taken from behind. He'd been feeling trapped between two desires that he thought were incompatible, the desire to be a man and to take a boy (or maybe someday a woman if he had to), and the competing desire to feel like a boy wrapped in the embrace of a masculine man. Now he could enjoy both. He glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see Kallimakhos's face, but instead he stared into the eyes of his older brother Xanthos.
The power of both desires being satisfied at the same time were too much. Arsenios came inside Kallias's beautiful young prokton while his own prokton spasmed with delight as it felt his brother's rod pushing ever deeper inside him. He smiled in his sleep and rolled over on his back, his large phallos fully erect and pressing against his loincloth.
Now Kallias was sure that he was hearing the music of pipes floating on the breeze, a haunting melody that tantalized his senses. He was sure he saw movement at the edge of the forest, so he crept forward slowly and stealthily. No matter how close he came, he couldn't see anything but shadows playing in the moonlight, but he was sure that he saw nebulous forms deeper in the woods. He chased after them, picking up speed as he went. He knew that he shouldn't enter the woods by himself, especially not at night, but the voice of caution in his head was drowned out by the sonorous piping he heard ahead of him.
He realized that the animals of the forest were following him and that they too seemed to be drawn by the mysterious piper. His penis stiffened as he ran and the blood pounded in his ears to the tune of the pipes and drums he heard.
Finally, he came into a clearing where a small fire crackled merrily, and the sound of the pipes became overwhelming. And then they came into the light. There were wild women with loose hair braided haphazardly through with wildflowers, and they were beating on drums. And then came the fauns, handsome youths with the legs of goats and tiny goat like tails. They were naked and their small phalloi were bobbing erect as they danced. Their heads sported small horns that swept back from their temples. With them were the satyrs, men with crudely wrought ugly faces. They had the long tails of horses and horse-like ears. Their massively ugly erections bobbed like clubs as they moved. And last were the selenoi, pot-bellied old men with pointed ears and a satyr-like horse's tail. Their erections were smaller than the satyrs, but more crooked and knobby. There were twelve each of the fauns, the satyrs and the silenoi.
It was the satyrs who were playing the pipes so sweetly and their dance was more forceful, their hips thrusting with each step. The wild women spun in circles as they moved around the exterior of the clearing. The fauns danced with nimble steps, moving their rounded and hairy butts in time to the music. The silenoi didn't dance so much as they stood barely in the circle of the firelight swaying their hips and making their massive club like phalloi dance in the flickering light.
That's when Kallias noticed that there were boys and young men among these strange mythic creatures. They were also dancing, their bodies covered in sweat and their eyes unfocused like they were intoxicated. All of them showed signs of exhaustion. As Kallias was watching, one of the silenoi grabbed a boy from the dance and pulled him to him. The creature lifted the boy's thighs so that he fell forward, barely catching himself with his hands before his face could slam into the ground. Then the silenos plunged his cock inside the boy's prokton and began fucking him wildly. The boy was screaming, whether in pain from the impalement or pleasure he couldn't tell.
Two fauns left the circle and pranced over to Kallias and pulled him into the dance. They led him into the circle, and as soon as his feet began to move, he was caught up in the dance. He danced in a lascivious and wanton manner, swinging his hips, and bending over to tease the crowd with his bottom. The silenoi cheered and urged the dancers on. The Satyrs were in the inner circle, dancing closest to the fire. Kallias barely noticed when one of them snatched his chlamys and threw it onto the fire. A quarter of the way around the circle, another satyr untied his belt and tossed it onto the fire. Then another pulled his tunic off, over his head and shoulders. It too went onto the fire. The final satyr snatched his loincloth and tossed it over his shoulder, making the bonfire flare again. And now Kallias danced naked like the others.
The fauns grabbed his buttocks and his small phallos as he danced. It excited the boy no to no end. His father and his older brothers were too watchful to allow any man or boy to touch him in this way, so he'd never felt anyone's hands but his own before. The more they grabbed at him, the more wanton became his movements. He teased them with his hips and when he bent over, his naked bottom was exposed and his tiny, hairless rosebud could be seen.
The satyrs were more forceful. One brutish fellow let his pipes drop so they hung from a strap around his shoulders. Then he grabbed Kallias and pulled him into the inner circle. He picked the boy up like he was going to kiss him with his ugly face. Kallias was repulsed by his grotesque features, but the strong arms around him made him feel weak. He let himself lean against the satyr's chest and run his fingers through the hair that reminded him so much of his oldest brother Xanthos.
The satyr didn't kiss him, even though they were facing one another, instead he plunged his large phallos inside the boy with no preparation of any kind. Kallias screamed, a primal scream that combined pain and pleasure in one outburst. It felt like he was being ripped in apart by that giant tool inside him. It hurt but he felt the pain as another form of pleasure. The music was affecting his perceptions. Every sensation, no matter how painful went straight to his small but erect phallos.
The satyr continued to dance, all the while lifting Kallias up and slamming the boy back down onto his massive cock. The creature split the night with its roar of pleasure, and the sound echoed throughout the forest. Kallias was crying out with each thrust and his phallos was leaking precum all over his groin. The other satyrs each held a boy or young man of their own and they too were bleating their pleasure, while the boys they were penetrating sobbed with that strange mixture of pain and pleasure.
Kallias felt tremendous pain from the massive cock that was stretching his prokton, but he also felt pleasure, a warm tingling that began inside him. That spot that his instincts had told him was there, that spot he'd been unable to reach with his own fingers, it was that spot that the satyr was hitting with each syncopated downward thrust. There was a pressure inside him that spilled from his ass to this cock. Waves of pleasure rose through his body, and he felt like he was pissing all over the ground, but it wasn't urine; it was his own seed being pushed out of him by the satyr's cock pressing that magic spot.
Once the satyr had cum, he pulled Kallias off his cock and handed him to the satyr in front of him, who was handing his own boy to the satyr in front of him. It was like a chain, with Kallias and the others being passed along. And each satyr picked his boy up and slammed him down on his rampant pole. He slammed him repeatedly until he came, adding his own seed to that of the satyr who had come before. And each time, the boys came from the stimulation striking their special spot. Their prokta had already been stretched and they were still lubricated by the cum of the previous satyr who'd been inside them.
Each of the twelve satyrs took each of the boys. The primal magic of the dance was making them all, boys, young men, satyrs and silenoi more virile. No matter how much seed they spent, they had more to spill. By the time the twelve boys and men had been each taken twelve times by the satyrs, their prokta were leaking the satyrs' seed. It ran in rivulets down their thighs and joined with their own on the ground. Due to the magic of the dance, their seed was absorbed into the soil, and it spread throughout the forest, bringing preternatural fertility for miles around the clearing.
Once the satyrs had finished with their lovers, they handed them off to the twelve silenoi who had been swaying in the outer ring. They held their partner's hips to their groin, impaling their prokta with their monstrous clubs. The sounds of rutting satyrs and silenoi filled the air, along with the scream of pain and pleasure from their human partners.
Xanthos sat up and looked around. Something wasn't right. He glanced across the field and saw the goats sleeping safely, half the herd awake while the other half slept. Then he noticed that Kallias was missing. In the distance he heard the sound of pipes on the wind.
"Arsenios!" he shouted. "Wake up, Arsenios. Kallias is missing and I can hear pipes in the forest."
Arsenios aroused himself from slumber and looked around with bleary eyes. He shook his head and then he said, "The Great God's retinue is nearby! We must save Kallias before he's drawn into the retinue to dance until he dies!"
Xanthos said, "Surely not! These stories are myths, meant to frighten children. Those pipes must be the celebration of bandits camping in the woods. We must save Kallias. You know how pretty our younger brother is. The bandits will surely molest him and then sell him in Argos as a slave."
Arsenios was rummaging in his pack for something, and he pulled out some wax he had saved from a burned candle. "You're wrong, Xanthos," he said. "I don't think that the Great God was on this side of the mountain when you were younger, and I don't know if you lost your virginity earlier than me and Kallias, but I've heard that song before, and I almost succumbed to it. If I hadn't been with someone who could restrain me, I would have been lost in the woods. Even now I hear it calling me."
Xanthos seemed perplexed. "I hear the music, but it's not calling me," he said.
Arsenios replied, "Then you must be a man. I thought I would be immune, but the kinds of things I've done must mean that I'm still technically a virgin."
Xanthos smiled and said, "Kallimakhos isn't as sly as he thinks he is. I know that he's had you. I probably even know some of the things you've done. He didn't mention your name, but I can figure it out. So, you're no virgin, Arsenios."
"I've never taken a woman or a boy, Xanthos," the middle brother explained. "Kallimakhos has spilled his seed inside my prokton and inside my mouth, but I've never done it to him or to any other boy."
He was shaping the wax and pushing it inside his ears. "It's all I can do to keep from throwing my clothes off and running into woods now," he said breathing hard, his heart pounding in his chest.
Once he had the wax firmly placed inside his ears, he held the lump of wax out to his brother. He seemed more relaxed than he had been. "You'll need this too, Xanthos," he said. "When we get closer to the music, the fact that you're a man won't save you if you hear it plainly."
Xanthos took the wax and stuffed his own ears. Then he pulled a bow and arrows from his pack so he wouldn't go unarmed into the woods. Arsenios had a wicked looking knife. It was bronze instead of iron, so it wasn't as sharp, but it was hard, and its point would pierce the skin easily enough. Then the two brothers walked into the forest, determined to bring their youngest brother out alive. Xanthos was still skeptical about Arsenios's story and thought that they would be dealing with bandits, but bandits or creature from myth and legend, it made no difference. They would save their younger brother no matter what the cost, even if it meant trading their own lives for his.
They had to yell if they wanted to talk to one another, for the wax didn't block out all sound, but it made the music seem muffled which blocked the compulsion Arsenios was feeling. Xanthos pulled his middle brother closer to him as they walked, his arm around the muscular teen's back. He glanced down and saw that Arsenios hadn't put on his tunic. He'd been in too much of a hurry at the time, so he was wearing only his chlamys and loincloth, and the chlamys kept getting stuck on branches and pulled aside, revealing his shapely legs and firm buttocks.
Xanthos sighed thinking of missed opportunities. He'd been so angry when he figured out that his best friend Kallimakhos had been making love to his younger brother, but the anger had stemmed from jealousy. He's always been attracted to Arsenios, but he'd never acted on that attraction because he'd felt strange that it was his brother he'd been drawn to. Now he was making the same mistake with Kallias. He knew that Kallias wanted him, and if he managed to rescue him, he was going to take him for his own. And if father found out and objected, to the crows with him. He was old now and had no other heirs.
He leaned in and yelled to make himself heard by his brother. "When we get back home, I'm going to take you and Kallias into town and buy you each a woman. This wouldn't be happening if you weren't virgins."
Arsenios laughed out loud, "Kallias and I aren't like you, Xanthos. I don't know if I could take a woman like that. You'd better make it a boy. And I'm not sure Kallias can even take a boy. He may grow out of it, but he isn't very masculine – I'm surprised you hadn't noticed."
Xanthos had noticed, but he hadn't really thought about it. "Fine!" he shouted into Arsenios's ear, "when we get home, I'm going to take both of you as my lovers, brother or not. My wife will have to share my attentions with you if I ever marry. Although I suppose that I must, or the family will die out after us."
Arsenios stopped and gave his brother a serious look. "Don't joke about that, Xanthos, not unless you really mean it. Kallias is in love with you. I was too when I was his age."
That thought sobered Xanthos. He'd been joking, but now he wasn't. Was his youngest brother in love with him, and if he were, would the gods smile on their union or strike them down for being impious? The two brothers were walking again, but Xanthos pulled Arsenios closer and kissed his temple.
"You're not in love with me anymore, brother?" he asked.
"I'm in love with Kallimakhos, although I don't know if he feels the same about me," he yelled. "Maybe he can move into our house once you've turned it into an all-male love nest. He's the youngest brother of his family. He'll never inherit anything."
The boys continued walking through the woods, drawing ever closer to the music. They didn't start running until they heard the first scream. They weren't sure if it were pain or pleasure that elicited that sound, but they picked up their speed, their minds intent on saving Kallias from whatever could be making that noise.
Kallias had been taken by all the satyrs and now he was upside down, holding himself upright with his arms, while one of the silenoi thrusted roughly and forcefully inside of him. The stretching the satyr had given his prokton was nothing compared to this powerful club that was battering his insides. Despite the pain, his eyes were glazed and unfocused and his small phallos continued to pour his seed onto the ground, although the stream was beginning to slacken since this cock belonged to the fifth silenos who'd taken him since the satyrs had handed him off. He'd gone from a virgin, to having seventeen different cocks fill his prokton with seed in a single night.
After the second silenos he was crying, but after the third he'd run out of tears, and he was wracked by ragged sobs. He tried to think of escape, but his mind was muddled, and he heard nothing but the music. Then a chant began to accompany the music.
The chanters repeated, "Ho megas Pan agetai!" which means "Great Pan comes!"
Only two of the satyrs were still playing their pipes, and the humans, including Kallias, had been released and now were lying exhausted on the ground, their muscles twitching and their phalloi throbbing. Each of them leaked the seed of satyrs, silenoi or both from their abused bottoms.
A powerful smell of goat permeated the clearing. The humans couldn't focus their eyes well enough to see the Great God, but they felt his presence and they were swept up in his masculine aura, their bodies tingling in his presence, like their skin had come alive and was tingling with tiny sparks.
"How many new dancers have joined us since my last visit?" the god spoke, his voice resounding through the clearing and into the woods.
The leader of the Silenoi drew closer and replied, "Three boys, Oh Great One, and no women."
The Great God resembled a satyr himself, but his body was much hairier, and he was crowned with great horns that curved back from his temples. He had cloven hooves and a horse's tail. He inhaled sharply and said, "Bring them to me, one at a time."
Two satyrs grabbed one the exhausted youths and brought him to the god, where he was made to kneel. The leader of the silenoi said, "This is Makron, soldier who served in the forces of Mytilene until he heard our song while on watch."
Then he turned to the youth and said, "Makron, take the Great God's rod into your mouth and suckled the nectar of the All-Great from his holy shaft. Drink and be reborn."
The youth called Makron was powerfully built with thick muscles and thighs. His own rod was large and powerful, but he had never had occasion to use it, for despite his outward masculinity, he did not desire to fuck, but only to be fucked. And now he was going to get his wish. He leaned forward and pulled the massive phallos of the god into his mouth. At twelve inches, it was twice the size of the most massive cock he's ever taken before, but he was overcome with lust and worked his throat until he had lodged the monstrous phallos in his throat. His coughing and choking stimulated the god quickly to orgasm.
With this act Makron sealed his fate. As he took the seed of the god inside him, he began to change. Outwardly he looked the same, but his testicles were changing so that they could produce more seed, seed that would never find itself inside another, but seed that would spill on the ground each time one of the bucks in the retinue would take him. And his body changed so that he would derive all the nourishment he needed from the seed of a satyr or silenos. He was changing to become the perfect vessel to collect the seed of the Great God and his retinue.
Another dancer was brought forth, a man with darker hair and skin, with a thinner built covered in whiplash muscle. He was young, although not as young as Kallias. The leader of the silenoi said, "This is Rhianos, formerly a slave on the farm of Glaukos son of Agathon. He heard the call while working in the forest, cutting timber for this master."
He turned to the young man and said, "Rhianos, take the Great God's rod into your mouth and suckled the nectar of the All-Great from his holy shaft. Drink and be reborn."
Rhianos was also compelled by the scent and the aura of the Great God to do what he was told, but he was different from Makron. He had been with other boys, taking them after hours when the workday was done. He had more difficulty swallowing the Great God's rod, but he too managed to suck the nectar from its source. His phallos shrank to a more boyish size and he sprouted hair that covered his legs and forearms. A small goat's tail protruded from his tailbone, and he grew small horns. His body had changed to become one of the fauns. These smaller and less well-endowed creatures served the more powerful and masculine satyrs until, after years of service, another taste of the god's nectar would change them into satyrs, capable of fucking deep instead of merely piercing the prokton.
Just when two of the satyrs were about to lift Kallias to his feet, a shout rang out across the meadow, "No! That boy is my brother, and he belongs to me. Unhand him."
All grew silent in the meadow as Xanthos and Arsenios walked into view. Arsenios was shaking and sweating. The musicians had stopped playing, but the music was still sounding in his ears, and he felt compelled to throw himself upon the Great God's rod and swallow it whole, but he was resisting with all his focus. Xanthos, on the other hand was so full of determination that he didn't waver from his purpose.
"You are brave, human, to come into my presence and to make demands," the Great God said. "I should smite you where you stand, but you intrigue me. You are almost as forceful and aggressive in your nature as a human can be. I will listen to your plea."
Xanthos strode forward. "I do not disrespect you, Great God," he proclaimed. "I am Xanthos, son of Philon and our farm is just down the slope from your sacred mountain. Our family remembers and respects the gods, and you most of all, since we have many herds of goats, and they are our livelihood. We do not forget to make the proper sacrifices to you, nor do we forget to honor you when we slaughter a goat, or a new goat is born.
"But this boy is my brother Kallias and I claim his as mine. You have many dancers, but I have only two brothers and I love them. When we go home, I intend to mark them both as mine, and they shall be unto me as your dancers are unto you."
"Well spoken young man," the Great God rumbled. "But Kallias has already fallen under my spell, and Arsenios is not far behind him. He falters even now."
Xanthos looked over at Arsenios, the much-overlooked middle brother, and he saw the sweat upon his brow and the glazed look in his eyes. "What must I do, Great God, to convince you to release them to me."
The Great God pondered for a moment, then said, "It's not me you have to convince, Xanthos. It's them. If you can convince Kallias that he belongs with you, then you shall take both brothers from here. If you cannot convince Kallias, you may attempt to convince Arsenios. If you can convince neither brother then all three of you will remain in my retinue forever."
"It will be as you demand, Great God," Xanthos said.
Then the elder brother took Arsenios in his arms and said, "I should have made you mine before, but I need you to stay focused. It isn't just Kallias I'm going to save tonight. It's you too because I love you Arsenios. If you want Kallimakhos, I will give you to him, but you will always remember that you belong to me."
Then Xanthos turned his attention to Kallias. He had no clue what to do until a newly lucid Arsenios said, "In his mind, he hears only the goat song of the Great God Pan. You must get through the song to reach him, to make him believe that his place is with you."
Xanthos pulled Arsenios in for a quick hug and a quicker kiss. Then he turned his attention to the baby of the family, the beautiful Kallias. He sat down and pulled Kallias onto his lap, and he began kissing him gently, whispering directly into his ear. "I love you, Kallias. It's me, Xanthos, and I love you. I want you to be with me always, and I want to you to be my brother-wife. If you could bear my children, I wouldn't even look at a woman."
Arsenios squatted next to him. "Don't just tell him, brother," he said. "Show him that you mean it. Make love to him here in this clearing before the Great God himself and all his retinue. Make him believe that he's your brother-wife and I'll make him know how much I love him too."
Xanthos kissed Kallias's lips again and used one hand to fondle his scrotum and his nuts in their soft little sack. He was surprised at how small his brother's phallos really was. It was still hard and throbbing despite the lack of attention, and Xanthos could cover almost all of it with the fingers of one hand. He squeezed it gently and then stroked the boy's prokton with his finger. It was still gaping, and it was leaking the seed the satyrs and silenos had left there. He slid his finger inside and found Kallias's prostate and rubbed it gently.
"Come on Kallias, listen to me," Xanthos said. "I know that you love me. I want you to know that I love you too."
Arsenios reached over and pushed Kallias's face into their brother's armpit. "Smell that, Kallias?" he asked. "That's the smell of the man you crave."
When that didn't work, he pulled Kallias out of Xanthos's arms and said, "Give me your loincloth."
Xanthos pulled his loincloth off and Arsenios put it over Kallias's face. Then he handed the boy back to Xanthos. "Talk to him now and tell him what you're going to do to him. Be specific."
Xanthos went back to rubbing the boy's prostate with one finger while holding him tight with his other arm. "When I get you home, I'm going to take you to my bed, and then I'm going to show you all the things a man can do with his boy. I'm going to kiss every inch of your body. Then I'm going to fuck you, not just for my own pleasure, but to make you feel better than you've ever felt before. We'll have cakes for dinner, and I will make it know to the whole household that you are my boy-wife."
Kallias heard a voice murmuring behind the music. It was faint at first, but it was familiar. And it was accompanied by a familiar smell, a smell he'd craved for two years. And then the words began to make sense.
"... and I will make it know to the whole household that you are my boy-wife."
Kallias's eyes opened, and his vision was blocked. He reached up and removed the loincloth from his face. He didn't want to let it go, so he held it tight by his face where he could still smell it. Then he said, "And if I could bear your sons, I would."
Both Xanthos and Arsenios hugged him and kissed him all over.
The voice of the Great God boomed, "You've done well, Xanthos, and you too Arsenios. You may go now, and you have my blessing."
The brothers prostrated themselves before the god and then took their leave. They walked back to the camp, but they stopped at the stream and washed first, taking special care with Kallias, but he claimed that his prokton was healing fast. Maybe it was the Great God's blessing.
They spent the next three days watching the goats in the high pasture, until they were relieved by a trio of slaves. Luckily Kallias has a spare tunic among his things, but unluckily it was an older tunic, and it was a little short. Since he'd lost his only loincloth in the forest, he kept flashing his brothers when he ran, bent, or stretched. But neither of them minded it.
Then they headed back to the farm. It was going to be difficult to explain things to their father and the rest of the household, but Xanthos was determined. Once they were back, he was going to hold a ceremony and marry his brother Kallias. He would have to create the ceremony himself, but he was determined, and no one would stand in his way.