A Satyr's Sacred Seed Ch. 01

[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.

The satyr strode into the glade until he loomed over Alika, cooly regarding her with his featureless yet remarkably expressive hazel eyes. The massive being stood half again her height if she counted the antlers, only a little less if she didn't. He said nothing for a moment, simply towering before her as the girl stared at his powerful, muscular body and the swollen spheres between his thighs. He was just so... male... Suddenly, a realization struck her, breaking the hypnotic hold of his swaying seed-pods. Her eyes widened in panic as she fell to her knees, bowing low to the ground before the sacred emissary of The Green God, hoping haste would make up for her hesitation.

"Oh, mighty satyr, your presence honors me!" Alika intoned. "I greet you as the fertile soil, as a willing servant, as... um... as a yet-empty vessel, pleading to be filled with your... your... uhh... " She continued, her voice faltering as she forgot the words of the ritual greeting, panic growing inside her.

The satyr raised a hand, gently gesturing her to stop. "Please, relax. There's no need for all the... ceremony." He assured her, his voice deep and rich, resonating out of his powerful chest as a reassuring smile spread across his face.

Alika looked up from the ground toward the towering figure, hesitantly. "...Are... are you sure?" She asked, slowly getting up from the ground, a nervous smile spreading hesitantly across her full lips. "I... I admit, I'm a little nervous. I was expecting... I don't know. I just don't want to offend you and mess this up..." She admitted, giving a small, nervous laugh.

The satyr smirked, then shook his head. "I'm sure. I'm not so needy as to require constant praise. In truth, rather than 'mighty satyr', I far prefer 'Varossion'." He replied, dipping his antlers with a curt nod in her direction. "And what shall I call you?" Varossion inquired.

Alika visibly relaxed a fraction. "I'm Alika." She replied, giving the satyr a full bow, albeit a short one, her massive mammaries swaying pendulously as she bent over, and continuing to wobble slightly when she straightened back up. "You're more... modest than I was expecting, Varossion." She commented. "Still, I must say... certainly some praise is due." She confessed, her eyes roaming up and down his powerful frame, taking in the full view of him. "You're certainly quite... impressive, from my point of view." She added, her eyes drawn inexorably back to the massive, swaying testicles between his thighs. They looked like a pair of ripe, juicy melons, overstuffed orbs hanging heavy in his smooth sack, filled to bursting with an ocean of thick, virile satyr spunk. She swallowed, her mouth watering involuntarily as she imagined the enormous load they contained.

Varossion smirked. "I appreciate the flattery, Alika." He replied, his hazel orbs drinking in the view of her in turn, taking all of her in at once. "You're quite gifted, yourself." He added. Even if he didn't have pupils, Alika could still feel his gaze roaming over her, her body growing hot beneath it. She could feel it lingering on her full, round breasts, and felt her proud nipples stiffen in response, begging for attention. She felt it travel down over her relatively narrow waist to her broad hips, the flushed lips of her sex glistening as they grew damp with arousal.

Alika said nothing, merely gazing into Varossion's featureless hazel eyes, watching his reactions, only to suddenly feel his gaze rise to meet hers. Their eyes locked as a tense silence hung in the air, a sizzling electric buzz running between them. They both knew why they were here, in this glade. Alika was getting aroused merely being in the presence of such primal, powerful masculinity, the gnawing hunger in her core growing more and more intense by the second. Varossion, meanwhile, had been too long without release, his heavy balls beginning to ache with fullness, and with a ripe young Eniiri presenting herself before him, those swollen orbs churned, producing even more of his potent seed as his shaft began to peek out of its sheath.

Alka swallowed, taking a hesitant half-step toward the towering male before her. She was drawn toward him, like a moth to a flame, inexorably pulled forward by the tension in their gaze. With another half-step, she found herself standing just out of arm's reach of the powerful male, looking up at him as she bit her lip nervously. "Can... Can I... touch you?" She finally asked, breaking the near-silence that hung over the glade.

Varossion didn't reply, merely stepping forward, planting a hoof in the soft grass, and let his back leg fold, his body drawing closer as he lowered himself down to one knee. He reached out, muscles shifting as his his large, rough hand closed gingerly around Alika's wrist, easily wrapping around the slender limb, and guided her hand up to his chest. She cooed softly as her fingers met flesh. It was so... different. Nothing like touching an Eniiri. It was so firm, so warm, so... rugged. It was male. Her slender digits spread out as she flattened her hand against his chest, exploring the oaken muscle, feeling the subtle pulse of his heartbeat through it, some of her fingers probing the edges of the dense thicket of fur at the center of his chest. He was close enough his scent was filling her nose with each breath. It was almost like pine, but also somehow musky, animal... It was intoxicating.

As Alika's hand lingered on his chest, Varossion was not idle. Releasing her wrist, he let his hand fall forward, landing at the swell of her hip, thick digits wrapping almost halfway around her curvy waist, holding her firmly. His other hand swiftly joined its brother at her opposite hip, but rather than gripping, it caressed, stroking up and down along her side, fingers trailing lightly over her soft, tan, tattooed flesh. Everywhere he touched, she felt warm, pure life energy radiating from his skin and leaving her skin tingling and sensitive in its wake. She looked up at him, eyes sparkling with awe. He was a living conduit of The Green, nature's power personified, an altar to life itself, one she would be glad to worship.

Alika's free hand came up to join the first on Varossion's powerful chest, sliding together down his torso slowly. Her splayed fingers rode the hills of muscle and dipped into the valleys between them as they traveled down, exploring the rugged terrain of his abs. Meanwhile, Varossion's caressing hand roamed down a little further, onto her hip, sliding back just a bit to suddenly cup one rounded globe of her spectacular ass, his massive hand enveloping an entire cheek. His fingers sank deep into the soft pliable flesh as he squeezed firmly. Emboldened, Alika's hands roamed a little further down, drawing nearer and nearer to his hips. Her breath caught in her throat as her field of view panned down to include the wrist-thick shaft of sayr cock slowly emerging from its sheath, growing longer and thicker with each beat of his heart.

Alika's hands were drawn to Varossion's shaft, fingers trailing through the soft fur on his hips before they closed delicately around the throbbing, swelling spear of cock. It twitched in her grip, growing longer and thicker by the second as her hands cradled the member reverently. It was warm and undeniably alive, growing before her very eyes with each heartbeat. Her hands began to move, slowly, sliding up and down the length, stroking it, feeling its impressive weight as it continued to emerge from his sheath. Once its full length was free, it began to pulse more forcefully, bulging thicker and stiffening as winding veins fed the monstrous member with gallons of blood. It helmet-shaped head rose, swelling, turning from soft, fleshy pink to a firm, angry red as it finally reached its full size. Alika marveled at the beastly, primal maleness before her, eyes and hands exploring it reverently. It was a monster, a totem of virility, a towering monolith of masculinity. The throbbing shaft dwarfed her forearm, with her fingertips on his hip-bone, the flared head would have reached past her elbow, and it was thick, too, wider than her handspan, and so big around she'd need a third hand, and maybe even a fourth, to completely encircle it. Its fearsome length was marbled with bulging, pulsing veins, and it jumped and bobbed in the air like an angry beast.

The prospect of such a titanic pillar of flesh entering her made Alika's knees tremble. She knew it was possible, she'd seen the high priestess take a satyr's length just days before, and yet it still seemed too large, too powerful for her to handle. Her delicate hands still roamed worshipfully up and down the titanic shaft as she swallowed, nervously, then shook her head. No, she had faith, The Green would protect her. She tore her gaze from the cyclopean rod and looked up, into Varossion's eyes. There was desire there, certainly, a flickering flame of hunger, but alongside that feral lust there was a warmth, a certain gentleness in those endless hazel pools, perhaps even... love? She swallowed again.

Reluctantly, Alika's hands left Varossion's masculine spear, sliding down its length until they reached the root, then down further still. Reverently, the questing hands slid down, caressing and exploring the smooth surface of the satyr's overstuffed sack. She could feel the warm softness of the skin on her palms, feel it shifting over the firm, melon-sized spheres of the satyr's heavy balls as her hands roamed further and further down, tracing the outline of his heart-shaped seed-sack as they came together underneath. Varossion let out a soft groan, his deep voice rumbling out of his chest at the sensation of her touch. She bit her lip as she cradled the spheres in her palms, hefting them, feeling their weight, their potency, feeling them churn as his sack squeezed under her touch for an instant. These twin orbs were the true seat of his power, the source of all his maleness, his virility, his strength and fertility. She couldn't resist giving the cum-stuffed spheres a firm, lustful squeeze in gratitude, drawing another groan of lust from their owner.

Varossion's thick fingers sank into the plump, soft flesh of Alika's perfect ass again as he pulled her voluptuous body closer. She gasped, feeling his red-hot pillar of primal cockflesh smack against her smooth stomach, heavy, hot, and throbbing rhythmically. The antlered demigod leaned forward suddenly, lowering his head and pressing his lips to hers in a forceful, passionate kiss. Her eyes went wide with surprise for a moment, before she let out a soft moan into the kiss, her eyelids slowly fluttering closed. She hadn't expected a kiss. Only those who'd bonded with a satyr for years normally kissed their mates. She was supposed to simply worship his body for a time, and then, when his lust reached its peak, he was supposed to take her and ravage her for hours before planting his seed deep in her womb and disappearing into the woods again. She was ready for that. She wasn't prepared for this. And yet... she threw herself into the kiss, pressing her body against his, and when his tongue pushed between her lips, her tongue darted forward to meet it, the two dancing and swirling together passionately.

As Varossion kissed Alika, his hand released its grip on her hip and rose, caressing up her side until it cupped one heavy, perfectly shapely tit. He hefted her breast, bouncing it on his palm for a moment, before his hand closed around it, his large, strong hand easily engulfing the entire mound, thick fingers sinking deep into the pillowy-soft titflesh. She moaned out, a surge of pleasure radiating out from the tender mound, breaking the kiss as her head rolled back automatically. The satyr lifted his head away, the tip of his tongue flicking out to run over his lips, licking up the last of her honey-sweet flavor, fingers squeezing the mound once more. She moaned again, her achingly hard, sensitive nipple stiffening even further, begging for attention. Attention it soon received, as the satyr's thumb and forefinger slid up the slopes of her mound to pinch the thick pleasure-bud between them and make her knees tremble with uncontrollable sensation.

Alika gave a small whimper of pleasure, then a sudden gasp as she felt Varossion move. The powerful satyr rose from his knee to stand over her, looming like a towering oak. His monstrous member slid up her body as he rose, up over her stomach to push between her grapefruit-sized breasts, the fat knob at the tip throbbing angrily before her eyes. Her eyelids fluttered, the scent of his maleness overpowering at this distance, filling her mind with a warm haze of lust. Her eager hands still mindlessly groped at the satyr's superior seed-sacks as she looked up at him, gazing deep into the hazel pools of the powerful male's eyes. The flicker of burning lust she'd seen in them before had grown into a roaring flame, a ravenous hunger that could no longer be denied.