“I’m not going to masturbate!”

Duncan is infuriated at the suggestion and retorts, “I’m not going to masturbate! I haven’t had to resort to that for years. It is beneath me.”

Felixia remains maddeningly calm and says, “Well, then your choices are two. Either get used to being a satyr or find someone who is willing to do the horizontal mambo. The good news is that I improved your appearance. Don’t get me wrong — I still think you’re about as sexually appealing as last month’s hairball, but considering how you used to look, there’s just no comparison. If you’re lucky, you’ll be able to find some half-blind, sexually-frustrated bimbo and get her drunk enough to give you a handjob. Fortunately, satyrs emit powerful pheromones that make women pretty randy, so you’re not starting from scratch.”

Duncan is about to launch a fresh series of insults and demands at the magical feline, but a new wave of sexual arousal surges through his loins, distracting him. The young prince is certainly no stranger to strong feelings of horniness. Thoughts about getting laid tend to be foremost on his mind from the moment he wakes up each day. What he is experiencing now, however, is beyond anything his hormone-flooded imagination has ever encountered. The compulsion to copulate is so strong that he begins to wonder if he should give in to the indignity of beating off, just to take the edge off his carnal craving.

“I have to get out of here,” he decides. “Despite these horns and ridiculous legs, I’m sure to be recognized if I am seen in the palace. Once outside, I must find a way to deal with this—“ he looks down at his painfully-swollen member. “Problem.”

”Say no more, Young Spareling,” says Felixia. Her tail swirls and seems to lengthen to an impossible size as it wraps around her and the prince-turned-satyr. Before Duncan can ask what is happening, the palace walls around them seem to dissolve. When Felixia’s tail resumes its former size, they are miraculously in the grassy clearing of a forest.

“What happened?” asks the bewildered prince.

“You said you wanted to get out of the palace,” replies the Felechon, matter-of-factly. “I transported us to the Dark Forest so you can focus on your pecker predicament.”

Felixia’s words sink in, and Duncan grows outraged. “You mean to say you had the ability to magic us out of the palace all along? Why didn’t you say something before we started sneaking out, nearly getting caught, and me getting turned into this hideous goat creature?”

Felixia smirks. “Because it was a lot more fun, of course. But **** times call for **** measures, and at the rate you were spiraling, I was afraid you were going to try to poke me with your little pleasure twig. I thought I’d throw you a bone before you tried to throw your bone at me.”

By way of explanation, Felixia points to one side of the clearing. Duncan looks and sees movement among the shrubbery. As he watches, a slender feminine arm extends from the leaves and drops some garments to the ground.

Duncan looks to Felixia for an explanation. She says, “I have brought you to one of the meditation meadows for the Order of Venus. The Order is composed of young women who have vowed to foresake the ways of civilization. They care for the plants and animals of the Dark Forest. They come to meditation meadows to commune with nature and seek insight through interaction with its inhabitants. If my timing is right — and it always is — I brought you here just in time for the initation meditation by one of the Virgins of Venus.”

Duncan’s cock throbs at the words “young women” and “virgins.” He looks longingly toward the shrubbery that conceals the disrobing member of the Order.

“But if this one is a Virgin of Venus, how will that help me?” he asks, trying to keep the tone of desperation out of his voice. “Couldn’t you bring me to a convention of the Sluts of Satyrn or the Nymphos of Neptune?”

“Calm down, Little Spareling. As hideous and repulsive as your face is and despite the embarassingly tiny size of what passes for you as a reproductive organ, you’ve got two things going for you. As a satyr, the Virgins of Venus consider you one of the noblest embodiments of nature. They have vowed never to have sex with humans, and most of them aren’t into ****, but magical creatures of nature such as satyrs are fair game. The other thing you have going for you are the pheromones that you’re giving off.”

Duncan gives a tentative sniff at his armpit. “Am I? Are you sure?”

Felixia rolls her eyes. “Trust me. It’s like a fog. It’s causing my eyes to water.”

“And it works on women to make them want to have sex?”

“That’s the idea,” she responds. “As much as you’re pumping out right now, I’m surprised you don’t have coyotes humping your leg this very moment. It’s almost enough to cover up your typical aroma. By the way, I’ve been meaning to mention this, but when is the last time you bathed?”

Duncan’s response is cut off when he sees the branches on the far end of the clearing part as a young woman steps out. She has long black hair that hangs loosely around her shoulders. Her face and body are decidedly average. On most days, Duncan wouldn’t give her a second glance. In his ravenous state, however, his libido tells him that she is the most alluring creature to ever walk the earth.

Unaware that she is being watched, the young woman walks to the center of the clearing and kneels, lowering her head and closing her eyes as if in quiet meditation.

Duncan looks at her with intense longing. He takes a step in her direction, but Felixia places a paw on his arm. “Wait a moment, Your Royal Horndog. If you go charging in there like that, aiming your pecker at her like a spear in a jousting competition, you’ll scare her off. She is a virgin, after all, so try to exercise a modicum of restraint. I’m not sure I’ll be able to find you anyone else if you run her off.”

Waiting and exercising restraint are the last things on Duncan’s mind at the moment. The way his cock and balls are throbbing, he worries that they will burst if not satiated immediately.