A God in the glen

They ran and ran and ran. Occasionally, the moonlight would pierce the canopy and she would catch a glimpse of the man holding her. He had a goatee, for sure, and his eyes were dark under shaggy eyebrows. She felt the low hanging branches flex against her flesh as he darted from the road and onto a game trail before leaving even that behind and forging ahead into the virgin wood. The pain and shame of her time in Arcadia seemed to evaporate as they ran as the moon flickered over their bodies like a slow, silver flame.

Finally, they burst forth into a glen bordered by a stream. Arimneste was quickly laid down. She scrambled to right herself so she could see her rescuer, but he had retreated to the far side of the glen. She sat there, her chest heaving from the exhilaration of it all. She could barely make out his sillouette, but it was unmistakable. "You...you are real. You are Pan!", she exclaimed. He stood from the shadows with something cradled in his arms. He dropped it into what she was beginning to realize was a firepit. He returned to the edge of the glen, and dropped more kindling before replying.

"I've been called that, yes." he said with a surprisingly high-pitched and sing-song voice. She thought for a second, and realized it sounded like a goat's bleating. He struck flint to iron, and blew on the embers. Within seconds, the dry timber ignited, and she beheld a God. He was revealed gradually as the flames grew. He didn't quite have hooves, rather a single very large toe and a smaller toe still twice as big a normal man's. His legs were indeed covered in bristling hair and malformed, but not quite goat-like. More akin to a Nubian lion. Her eyes traveled upward to his knees, and she gasped.

"It couldn't be..." she thought as she first gazed upon his flaccid member, swaying lazily; the head barely a hand's breadth from his knees. She couldn't help but follow the light, and his massive member, upward until it's root disappeared in a tangle of pubic hair. She beheld the entire thing again, shivering as she did so, before following the growing light up to his abdomen. "He has a belly button. He was born. Gods aren't born as humans are..." she thought before realizing he was formed as if from a master sculptor with hard, defined muscles and dark, swirling body hair. Finally, the light reached his face. Aria gasped again. It certainly wasn't human. His cheekbones were too pronounced, his brow too large, and his eyes...his eyes yellow with horizontal pupils; just like a goat's. A wild mane of hair pulled haphazardly into a ponytail. Pan, the Goat God, stood before her teasing the fire to life with subtle jabs at the logs; sending the embers into the night sky.

Arimneste furrowed her brow. Memories of what Thanos had said to her filled her mind. Thus far, he had not advanced on her; but she could see the leer in his eyes. "Are...are you going to ravish me?" she asked in a quivering voice. He chuckled and shook his head.

"My dear, the stories they tell of me are greatly exaggerated. Besides, I doubt I'd be much good after what I did to the innkeep for his treatment of you. Let me just say that the Spartans learned a thing or two from me. I doubt he'll be able to walk for a week or more." He stood, casually wiping the soot from the fire onto his chest hair, before walking over to her side of the fire. She held her breath as he sat beside her as she imagined the innkeep shivering in pain on his filthy bed. He tossed an acorn in the fire and watched at it split and crackled. "No. I'll not be raping you..." he said, slowly turning his inhuman head to face her. "...but I will be taking your virginity when you ask me to." He leaned back so he was resting on his elbows, his enormous member on full display. Arimneste couldn't help but look at it, imagining what it would feel like. He slid his hand under it near the root, and ran his palm down the length as he shifted it to lay on the thigh closest to her. As she was gazing at it, she saw a small, white scar about two thirds of the way up it.

"You can scar...you have a belly button...and I've felt your skin against mine. You are flesh and blood?" she asked, her eyes drawn ever back to his member. He grinned, and shrugged.

"I don't know what I am. I've been here since the dawn of time, mostly conversing with the rocks and streams in languages that even the trees have forgotten. Some call me a God, others a daemon. Tonight, I am here; alive. With you." Her breath caught in her throat. God or not, he was devilishly charming. She didn't know if it was because he rescued her, his casual manner, or his enormous phallus; but she was getting very, very wet. It was as if some unseen force was tethered to her virgin sex and his amazing cock. She couldn't stop thinking about how wonderful it would be if...

"So, you, uhm... you play music?" she said as her fingers ran over the woodwind pipes dangling from his hip. "I hear you are a patron of the theatrical arts. Would you play a song for me?" she asked, biting her lip. He shifted onto one elbow so that he was looking at her. His heavy penis slid off of his thigh and over the back of her hand. It lay there, warm and thick against her skin. Her eyes closed involuntarily for a moment before slowly opening, as if from a dream. Slowly, she rotated her wrist so that she wasn't just feeling it, but holding it.

As she began to stroke it slowly, he smiled an impossible smile, and said "My dear, if I played for you, you'd lose all self control, and deflower yourself upon me." He untied the pipes, and brought them near his lips as she slid her soft hand up and down his shaft, watching in amazement as it swelled to life. "Are you sure you want to hear my song?" he asked as the Athenian let out a pleasant sigh, her hand barely able to encircle his member anymore...