Certainty
Charlie gets curious about a co-worker and ends up finding out more than he ever wanted.
Martin was a satyr. Charlie was sure of it. He'd been reading fantasy and mythology since he was a kid, seen all the Narnia movies, and didn't do drugs. So what he'd seen the past few weeks was most likely real.
It had started off with a gust of wind blowing off Martin's hat when they were leaving for work. He always wore the floppy, faded ski cap, even indoors. So seeing a guy with a shaggy mop of curly brown hair chasing something rather frantically across the parking lot towards Charlie didn't register at first. In fact, the chaser was so concentrated on grabbing his hat that he nearly ran into Charlie full tilt. Martin pulled up barely a foot away and stared at Charlie with panicked eyes, then darted around him to finally grab the escaping headwear and yank it back over his head.
At the time, Charlie had blinked and stared himself. For he was sure he'd seen a pair of small, off-white horns protruding from Martin's forehead. Before he say anything, though, Martin had dashed back to his Toyota truck and blasted out of the parking lot like there were demons on his tail.
If that had been the end of it, Charlie might have let things go. But the next day Martin had gone overboard with some elaborate explanation of going to a fantasy convention and using the wrong glue, and he was all embarrassed, and please not to say anything 'cause he didn't want people at work to think he was weird... Being a fantasy kind of guy, Charlie would almost have bought it. Except there were no conventions that day, that week, hell, not even that month anywhere within five hundred miles.
Why would someone put on fake horns? Charlie started looking at Martin a little more closely. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, Charlie's age, and nice enough looking. A little on the short side but lean and nicely muscled. His style of clothing was peculiar. Besides the hat, he also wore mirror sunglasses indoors and out, and baggy sweatpants that contrasted oddly with his tight t-shirts.
After a few days of paying closer attention, Charlie began to suspect the baggy pants hid some sort of physical defect or deformity. Martin seemed to skitter around, his movement a little jerky and different. And there was an odd bulge at the base of his spine. You could only see it when Martin bent over, but it looked like something was sticking out just above his butt.
The odd stuff seemed to get more noticeable, too, over the next couple of weeks. Martin developed more of an obvious limp and his pants got baggier. A couple of coworkers had asked him if he was OK, and been told he'd sprained an ankle. A couple of the more direct ones had also asked Charlie if he was scoping out Martin as a love interest. That was almost enough to halt the observations, even though Charlie had to admit he was finding the young man curiously attractive. He'd never thought of himself as being gay, though he wasn't particularly attracted to any of the girls he saw.
Then he'd discretely followed Martin into the restroom a couple of days ago, listening for the click and latch of a stall door being shut before easing in himself. Martin was muttering to himself about 'fucking lousy supports'. Charlie squatted down silently to peer under the dividers and saw that instead of dropping his sweat pants, Martin was taking off one of his shoes. Then he blinked as the shoeless foot came down to the floor while Martin presumably worked on the shoe. Because it wasn't a foot, but a pink-brown cloven hoof! Charlie thought he'd stifled his gasp well enough, but from the sudden fumbling within the stall, Marin must have heard something. Charlie slipped out as silently as he could and got away from the door , making a point of busily reading a Safety notice on the bulletin board when Martin popped out a minute later. -
Cloven hooves pretty much pulled the puzzle pieces together. Horns, a tail, small and wiry, cloven hooves equaled satyr. Or faun, depending on the movie or book. Never mind such things didn't exist. The sheer silliness of the idea stopped him cold. He avoided Martin the rest of the day, going to the same extremes to not be around him that he'd used to spy on his coworker. Looking back, Charlie did realize that he had become sort of a stalker, matching his breaks to Martin's and arranging to be close by way more than coincidence would explain. So it shouldn't have come as a surprise when the object of his surveillance was waiting for him when he got home.
Martin was leaning against his apartment door, arms crossed, his eyes unreadable behind the mirror glasses. "We should talk."
"Oh! Uh, hi." Charlie felt his cheeks flush hot. "Um, about what?"
"About you following me around for two weeks, spying on me in the john, shit like that." Martin didn't sound angry. Instead, he smiled and dropped his arms. "Or maybe you'd like to talk about me being a goat man?" Charlie gasped as a hand pressed against the crotch of his pants and rubbed.
"No! I'm not.. I mean..." Charlie's eyes widened as the hand continued to rub and got a quick response.
"Not interested?" Your dick says you are lying." Martin leaned forward with a grin, until his nose was almost touching Charlie's. He used his free hand to lift up his shades, revealing yellow-gold eyes with slitted pupils. Goat's eyes.
"You're a satyr." Charlie whispered the words, his heart racing. This was impossible! He should run, hide from this mythical non-existent creature. But he felt hot and flushed, trembling with what he realized was not fear, but burning lust and desire. It took every ounce of willpower he had to keep from grabbing Martin in a passionate embrace right there in the hallway, but he managed to fumble with his keys and get the door unlocked. "L-l-lets go in..." Before he finished the sentence, Martin pulled him in and shut the door behind them.
There wasn;t much to the place - an efficiency apartment with the sofa bed left open and rumpled from this morning. Charlie stumbled back in confusion as Martin yanked off his cap to reveal horns far more obvious than the ones he'd had before, and tossed the glasses aside. His T-shirt came off next, and as Charlie stared in astonishment, Martin kicked off his sweatpants and shoes to reveal the hindquarters of a shaggy brown goat.
"Fuuck." Charlie breathed out the word, his emotions a whirlwind of awe, astonishment, and unexpectedly intense desire.
Martin grinned as he stepped forward to pull at Charlie's belt. "Oh, we'll get to that soon enough. Just a couple of questions first. Have you told anyone about me? I mean, about what I am?"
Still confused, Charlie shook his head. "Fuck, no. I'd get locked up. Anyway, I can see you and I still don't know if I really believe it."
"Good answer." Martin glanced around. "You live alone?"
"Uh, yeah."
"Even better." Martin brought Charlie's pants and boxers down with one smooth practiced jerk, and was pulling off his shirt before they sank the ground. "Last question. You want to take it as a Nanny or a Buck?"
The 'It' Martin was referring to was obviously the slick pink penis that had pushed out of the goat's sheath. And though he'd never had sex with anyone before, Charlie discovered he wasn't the least bit scared or even shy. He was naked now as well, his own raging boner arcing out. He panted, reaching out to run his hand down the smooth chest, letting his fingers explore the thin curly hair Martin's belly that quickly became dense fur. He stroked the thick cock, the warm, thick flesh of the sheath, and then traced the swollen testicles, grossly oversized. "I don't care. Whatever you want."
"How about I give you some of this for your own? How'd you like to have balls like these? A nice big goat cock, some fur here and there? Maybe some horns?"
Be a satyr? Charlie embraced the idea joyfully. "Oh, yes! Please!"
"You got it!" Martin grabbed him with surprising strength and spun him around, then pushed him across the mattress. As Charlie hit the sheets, the satyr sprang on top of him and prodded his anus with the rigid goat cock.
Charlie gasped and clutched at the mattress as Martin found the opening and drove in brutally, actually bleating as he thrust. What followed was the most violent, passionate, lusty, perverted hours of Charlie's twenty-five years. Martin fucked him, he fucked Martin, they gave each other blow jobs, he licked the goat anus, kissed goat hooves, and then they fucked each other again. It was an incredible orgy that lasted well into the wee hours of the morning.
The apartment was dark when Charlie felt Martin pull free and sit up. "You gotta go?" His entire body felt used and abused, throbbing and hot, but he still wanted more. "Look, I promise I won't tell anyone, ever."
Martin chuckled softly and stood up, his silhouette looking odd. Charlie tried to sit up himself, but his muscles were not responding - he'd pushed himself to the limit. Still, he was able to shift his head to get a better look. Martin stretched his arms up over his head and then bent over to rub his legs. What was wrong here? Charlie's mind was a little fuzzy, and he struggled to identify what was bothering him.
"I'm not at all worried. And I kept my promise." Martin leaned over and reached out to touch Charlie's forehead - only to grab a hard protrusion and use it to gently wiggle Charlie's entire skull.
He blinked and grinned. "I got horns?" Damn! He made an effort to reach up and feel them, but his arms were too stiff. What had they done tonight? Well, it might be easier to count up what they hadn't done. "Wow, just like..." Then Charlie broke off, staring at the shape standing in front of him. That's what was odd about martin's silhouette. It was perfectly normal!
Martin walked over and flicked on the light. Charlie gave a bleat of discomfort and blinked his eyes, then stared at the man he'd shared his bed with. For Martin definitely was a man. Sure, his legs were a bit hairy, and his sexual parts were a bit dark. But he had human legs, human feet, human cock, and a forehead that showed no sign of horns.
"But, I saw..." Charlie swallowed, his voice cracking, his tongue and mouth having trouble making words. "I thought you were a satyr."
Martin chuckled again and sat down on the bed, reaching over to stroke Charlie's side. "Oh, I was. You were the only one to spot it, but much longer and I'd have been pretty obvious to everyone. I'm really glad you got nosey. You're an easy swap."
"Swap?" Charlie felt an uncomfortable twinge of concern, but his brain was still foggy. And the stroking felt nice, soothing.
"Yeah. Human for goat. Sorry the exchange rated is so terrible, but it does simplify things a lot."
Charlie struggled to pull thoughts together. "So now you're human and I'm a satyr?"
"Not exactly. I'm mostly human, at least. As close as I can get, thanks to you. It'll last a year or so before it wears off and I start getting goaty again."
"Bu' ahm a say'her?" Charliie's mouth wouldn't cooperate to form sounds, but Martin seemed to understand.
"Hey, I never said you'd be a satyr. A nice big goat cock and balls." He slid his hand down and Charlie felt fingers explore what was unmistakable an animal sheath between his legs, and then heft what felt like orange-sized testicles. "The horns, and some fur here and there." Martin chuckled. "Well, fur everywhere. Nobody wants to see a goat with bald spots."
That was enough for Charlie to suddenly break out of the lethargy and he scrambled up to all fours leapt off the mattress with a bleat of fear. He wasn't a goat! He was... oh, crap.
Martin stood up and walked over to his clothing. Squatting, he poked through his pants and fished out a dark, long band that dangled from his hand when he turned around. A collar. "Don't worry. I've got a nice farm outside of town where you can enjoy your new life. There are plenty of willing nannies and bucks that will be happy to welcome a new brother into the herd. Plenty of sweet grass, a pasture to romp in, and the best veterinary care available. You'll live to a ripe old age without a care in the world." He jiggled the collar. "Come on. No point in fighting it. Relax and enjoy the ride."
Charlie stared at the man, his thoughts confused. It was like his entire past, his knowledge and memories had transformed into butterflies, and he was trying to catch them all with his bare hands. Part of him felt like he should try, scramble to keep everything that he could. On the other hand, or hoof, he was a goat. What did he need math or English for? And a long life of no work and no cares? He took a faltering step forward, and then another.
Martin waiting for him to come the whole way, and carefully fastened the collar around his neck. It smelled of other goats, many other goats. When the buckle was firmly set, Martin sat down on the bed and rubbed Charlie's ears. It felt wonderful, but the creeping fog was getting really thick inside his head.
"Well, that's done. The collar will finish off what's left of your mind. And before it's too late for you to understand, I really do feel bad about the exchange rate. Bad enough you'll spend the rest of your life as a normal animal. That ripe old age I mentioned is only 17 or 18 years. And you aren't a kid in either sense of the word."
What!? A blast of cold realization cut through the fog and Charlie jerked back from Martin with a bleat of terror. He had a goat's lifespan? That meant he'd be dead in... Charlie struggled to find numbers, but the concept was too obscure. His fear rapidly degraded into confusion.
This time Martin laughed. "Man, I am such a shit sometimes. That look when you suddenly realize what you are in for. It's always the same." He wiped a tear from one eye. "I never get tired of it."
Charlie gave another bleat, but he wasn't sure if he was angry, scared, or just... hungry. He sniffed and identified the odor his master gave off without any trouble. No matter how human it looked, it was a satyr. Charlie was sure of it.
end