Satyr's Glade
From the moment I first heard the music, I knew I would have to follow it.
The convention was noisy and full of people but the notes somehow stood out, a bright spot like biting into a fresh blueberry baked into a muffin--which is actually kind of how it felt--to me, at least. I tried to point it out to my mate Cesar, a rather slender weasel who had been doing a splendid job of keeping my belly full even as we were out and about on our vacation, but they weren't able to pick out the piercing melody from the general din.
"Where's it coming from, yeen?"
I growled as I listened for it, having lost the thread of it myself. But after a moment I caught it again, a sweet and lively piping. "Come on, follow me."
I took their paw and led them to a remote corner of the convention floor, where nothing appeared to be for sale but several people were sitting and working, half screened off by a few standing black draperies.
It was quite close, I could tell, but Cesar still hadn't heard it yet. I tried to get the attention of a wolf who was there drawing in a notebook, but he didn't know what I was talking about either.
"I feel like I'm going crazy here," I said. "It's like this." By now I had some sense of the tune and I hummed along.
I only meant to hum a few notes, but as the music passed my lips I felt a strange impulse to keep going.
And if my hefty gut could tell you anything, it's that I'm not too good at impulse control.
I hummed a bit more. And then I felt the need to sing. The music was running through me and made my whole body feel more--more full of life somehow. Everything else seemed--less important... less real, even. The people standing around me started... losing opacity?
I wanted more of the music. I turned to my weasel, grabbed their paws, and started to dance.
"Harry!" they yelped.
The music got louder as we moved to the rhythm. I could tell Cesar was able to hear it, now.
The convention faded fully away around us till there was nothing left but me, my weasel, the music, and a flash of bright green-white light--
--with a meadow headed by a massive throne where a giant satyr was sitting, playing that insistent tune on his pipes.
The satyr must have been double our heights and was nude, save for a silver coronet on his forehead entwined with large white flowers I didn't recognize. He was looking down at us expectantly as he played, and I realized we had stopped dancing at the sight of him.
That didn't seem right.
I offered Cesar my handpaw. "Shall we continue?"
They stretched their paw out tentatively, but held back from actual contact. "Is... is that guy safe?"
Clearly, of course, he wasn't; satyrs are, at least in part, creatures given over to mad, relentless sexuality, and this one was bearing a shaft that looked thicker than one of my chubby thighs. Mad, relentless pounding with that would definitely not be safe for the average hole.
"What do you want with us?" My weasel was approaching the satyr, paws outstretched in a please-don't-destroy-me posture, and I rushed to keep up with him.
The satyr seemed unconcerned with answering the question, though, and returned to playing the music.
Almost as soon as the satyr's lips touched his pipes, Cesar began shucking off their clothes--in an almost careless way that suggested they weren't even thinking about it. The weasel got caught up in the dance again, but this time the music was out of my hearing.
But I did watch as my mate approached the giant satyr, standing under the looming shadow of his massive dick.
I did stand by them and watch as the satyr bent down close, giving Cesar a near serenade.
I watched in growing arousal as the satyr's silent music called forth the weasel's erection from their sheath. Cesar had an impressive cock, long and slender, but they had always hated their dick, much preferring to ride mine--even though it was losing the battle of inches to my belly--and feed me lasagna and donuts and chocolate-chip cookies and pizza...
My stomach gave a deep, hungry growl and the spell on my weasel seemed to break as Cesar pulled back, the satyr's misguided attempt to appeal to their sexuality failing.
Cesar looked up at the satyr with a familiar, distressed expression--one I knew well enough from occasional attempts to appeal to their prurient interest.
The satyr, for his part, looked down at Cesar with a brief confusion before returning to his pipes, the music still out of my hearing but the effect still visible.
The weasel's dick was shrinking.
I shivered a little to watch the slender length diminish inch by inch till nothing remained, and the continued application of the satyr's magic shrank their sheath and balls till their crotch was smooth as a teddy bear's.
When the reshaping of my mate's body had been attended to, the satyr jumped up and renewed the intensity of his music, dancing around his throne as the melody began to resound in my ears again.
I shucked my clothes off so I could join the fun, Cesar took my paw, and we danced.
The mad music permeated my body, awakening yet another urgency of spirit: twin hungers, pure and simple. The satyr and his music had my arousal up, to be sure, and my stiffness was grinding against my mate's smoothed crotch as we moved to the beat, but the other hunger was much more straightforward. My stomach was rumbling, but not for a mere lack of food--my mate had been feeding me snacks not too long before--but with a want of feasting, a dream of eating and drinking incessantly, filling my gut until it spread out a good few feet in front of me.
My belly rumbled deeper.
I couldn't hold up the dance any longer. Many years of training in indulgence had made it difficult for me to resist the effects of hunger. I slumped in against my weasel's shoulder to give my usual plea for help: "Feed me..."
The wild satyr's music stopped as Cesar gently lowered me to a seat on the ground, my belly overflowing my lap, achingly empty despite its size.
They reached into their bag and pulled out a Twinkie, unwrapping it quickly and slipping it into my grateful muzzle. I chewed on the sweet treat desperately, as the thought of filling my belly escalated my arousal even higher.
And the giant satyr came close, looming over us, his massive shaft making itself the center of all attention before he started to speak.
The satyr's voice was a sonorous tenor in no language my ears recognized, but nevertheless the meaning of the words still registered in my brain.
He said we were creatures of such strange priorities.
I smirked and chomped down on the next Twinkie as Cesar fed it to me, my dick stiffening with the combination of the sweetness of the snack and the intimate touch of my mate and the imminence of the satyr's enormous perfect shaft.
These are not the usual indulgences. But I will grant them anyway.
The satyr sat down in front of us, the palpable sexuality in the air intensifying as he brought a hand down to touch my stomach and my weasel's bag in turn.
I increase the capacity of both. Come and be filled.
My growing lust and hunger reached new peaks and I couldn't help but get up and approach the sitting giant.
"F--fill me," I said.
He picked me up with one giant grab and brought me to a seat on the satyr's cock.
I couldn't help but grind against the head, which was as big as a bar stool under my rump.
Cesar came up between the satyr's legs, pulled a snack cake from their bag, and reached up to feed it to me. As I chewed it over, they moved below my gut and took my hard dick into their muzzle.
And as I swallowed, I felt somehow the massive dick under my ass start to push its way in. There was no way my hole should have been able to open up for even the tip of it, but nevertheless that first couple of inches had pushed into me, never mind that it was nearly a foot wide.
"More..." I said. I felt empty and needed to be filled.
Cesar pulled out a big chocolate bar and crammed it into my muzzle, forcing me to chew on it as they resumed attending to my cock.
I closed my eyes and leaned back against the satyr's chest, savoring the pleasures of a talented maw around my cock, the sweet chocolate, and the new inches of cock filling my ass every time I swallowed. As the satyr started stroking his hands through the fur of my chest and belly, I wondered what I could have done to deserve such a paradisiacal moment.
Cake followed chocolate, caramel followed cake, doughnuts followed caramel. I savored every morsel, stroking my gut as my weasel filled it from his bottomless bag, but the fullness was nothing compared to that brought on by the massive shaft inching into my body, stretching it impossibly far.
I groaned out as the pleasures continued to intensify, and the satyr behind me did as well. I yelped in surprise, almost spitting out a mouthful of ice cream sandwich, as he grabbed hold of my hips and started pulling me down faster onto his cock.
I felt my body stretching in a disconcerting way to contain the satyr's cock. It wasn't long before the thick head was rubbing the inside of my ribcage, and I knew there couldn't be much more space for him to go, but somehow he kept sinking inch after inch into me.
After a moment I realized it was my whole body that was swelling tight around the monstrous shaft--I wasn't just being pulled on like a condom, I was filling out like a rising loaf of bread.
The sheer weight of my body pulled me forward and soon I was sprawled out on the ground on my growing belly. The big satyr adjusted his position without pulling out of me, kneeling behind me and starting to thrust into my expanded tailhole. Cesar sat in front of me, opened up the bag of snacks, and pushed my face in encouragingly.
I couldn't help but keep eating, my muzzle encountering an endless supply of treats in the small bag as the satyr pounded my ass. Every time his hips smacked my rump I could feel my whole body wobbling, new expanses of fat surrounding me. I was enormous, I knew it--not only was my hole no longer ridiculously stretched by the satyr's meat, but even lying prone like I was, my nose came up to Cesar's chest.
Mouthful after mouthful filled my gut and the satyr's thrusts speed up as the overstimulation at both ends led to my first orgasm.
The observation that I couldn't even reach my dick around my new gut right then led to a second climax very shortly after.
My weasel leaned into me as the stuffing continued, stroking his paws over my shoulder, behind my ears. The satyr's breathing came faster--I could tell he was about to lose it. I tried bringing my legs together a little, the massive globes of my ass squeezing the thick shaft, and I was rewarded with a deep moan from him and the throbbing of his maleness as he unleashed his load into me.
The intensity of it all brought me to a third round of blasting my own cum down my hanging belly as I buried my face deep in the bag of snacks. I was so lost in lustful gluttony it took me a bit to notice Cesar was tapping my shoulder, trying to get my attention. "Harry..."
I looked up, feeling conscious of all the crumbs stuck in my facefur, and wondered why my weasel looked so distressed.
And then I noticed that the satyr was gone.
And the satyr's glade was gone.
And our clothes with it.
We were back on the main convention floor, and people were stopping to stare at the beached-whale hyena and his dripping ass.
I would have loved to run off somewhere private, but that was when I discovered I wasn't strong enough to get up under my new weight.
Beached-whale hyena indeed.
I stuck my face back in the bag.