An All Girls' College

As I tumble out of the firmament, I try to focus on a place to go. Somewhere where I can do my work without raising eyebrows. Somewhere with some young people, eager to experience life. As I approach terra firma, I am drawn to just such a location. The concept of free thought abounds, and the atmosphere is quite full of libidinous behavior!

"The Emily Dickinson School for Girls!"

I have no idea who this Miss Dickinson may be, but the population of young maidens is overwhelming.

As I land, I draw on the collective imagination of the humans around me and craft an illusion of my human form, still quite striking, if I do say myself, and add clothing that seems appropriate. Cotton 'tee shirt', with some reference to some musical group "What is 'Foo'? And why does it need to be fought?" I say aloud before quieting my self. After all, when I was in Rome ... But that was another time. Black denim trousers and heavy boots complete my ensemble.

I make my way through the complex of buildings seeking, well I don't know what. Until I reach a squat, brick building with a sign, "Music Department" in front. Wandering through the halls, I am drawn to the sound of my favorite instrument being played. Even from a distance, the sweet notes of a flute are unmistakable.

As I round the corner, I spy my musician. And Oh, Zeus! What a sight. A young maiden stands with her back to me. Her 'jeans' are so tight; I wonder how she gets them on. They hug every curve of her lower body, showing off a firm, heart shaped ass. Her brown hair hangs below her shoulders, ringlets of curls falling onto her tight sweater.

I walk about the room, appreciating her beauty as much as the beautiful music that flows from her instrument. Gazing upon her face, I an awestruck again at the beauty of her countenance. She purses her ruby lips slightly to coax the notes from her flute. Her deep blue eyes are hidden from my view ever so slightly by the thin spectacles that sit on her perfect nose. Her body is fit and lean. Her breasts are somewhat small by my standards, the size of pears, but obviously firm.

She notices me as I come into view and stops abruptly.

"Don't let me interrupt you," I say. "You play divinely. Surely, your prowess would bring pleasure to the gods!"

She blushes slightly at my compliment.

"Please, play on," I encourage.

She begins again, but only gets through a few notes when she begins to laugh in embarrassment.

"I am Pan," I say introducing myself and extending a hand. She accepts and shakes mine. Her skin is so soft and supple and she scent, so very sweet.

"What an unusual name," she replies, "Like the satyr king?"

"The one and only," I say with a smile, trying to repress my own blush. 'I am not completely forgotten!'

"I'm Vanessa," the maiden replies. "I'm glad you like my music, but how'd you get in, men aren't allowed on campus after 8:00 on weeknights."

I explain my presence through a pretext. After some short conversation, Vanessa invites me for coffee. She leads me a small shop in the town. The menu is complicated. How can so many drinks be produced from a simple bean?

Still, I play the game and as time goes on, Vanessa succumbs to my suggestion and partakes of my wine. Her libido is stoked. I note with appreciation, the hardened nipples that make their presence known through her sweater.

Soon we are in her apartment, alone.

"I don't usually do this," Vanessa says, trying to remain demure. I can tell she's not lying, completely.

We kiss and caress for hours. I am lost in her sweet mouth and luscious body. I feel her undoing my zipper and allowing my member out.

Even in this human guise, it is still impressive by human standards, and Vanessa moans appreciatively.

"Do you have something?" she asks.

I am confused, "Have what?" I ask.

Vanessa is annoyed. "You know, a condom. We have to be safe."

As the purpose of her question comes to me, I am aghast. Never in 3 millennia has anyone accused me, Pan, of carrying some disease! My seed brings magic, immortal life if you take enough of it. This is ludicrous.

"No," I sheepishly admit.

"Well," she replies, "I have one, but it'll never fit that!"

I am at a loss. How am I to repopulate the world with satyrs if my seed is always captured in a prophylactic? I must formulate a plan, both for Vanessa and the future.