I Dream of Bacchus (Part 8)

Raury stared at the man, feeling all of his desires welling up, both earnest and twisted, and he nodded. He didn’t care–he needed him. If he could have Jared, then everything else would be fine, he was certain. The beasts raised a great cry of joy and excitement, and the music picked up again, a new tune, and Jared kept dancing, faster now–wild and crazed–in the clearing, surrounded by beasts. The song was similar to the one before, when Aarin and Jared had fucked in front of him–it had far more power and force behind it than their usual music, and even Raury found himself jiggling and swaying to the beat where he was lying on his throne, guzzling wine. He would catch a glimpse of Jared’s eyes every few cycles, and they were wide with terror and confusion, though it wasn’t long before his concerns faded away, the beasts coming closer, nearly blocking him from Raury’s view. It was just a mass of flesh and fur, hand and hoof, until with a great clamour the beasts stopped and retreated back, leaving…something else in the midst of them, something not even Raury had seen before, in the thicket.

His first thought was that it had to be a centaur of some kind, but that wasn’t quite right. The beastly thing was bent over on all fours, with the rump and ass of a donkey, including a tail still swishing along to the beat that had been playing moments before. The torso was still human however, and the face, while twisted somewhat, was recognizably Jared’s. Still, it was clear that not much of Jared’s mind remained–the beast’s eyes were crazed and hungry, and when it caught sight of Raury, of its Bacchus, his low hanging donkey balls began to churn, and his massive cock slid free of his sheath. “My Bacchus, my great, beautiful Bacchus. Please, I was wrong, let me serve you, let be one of your beasts!” it cried and stumbled forward, not quite certain how to make his new body work right, but Raury was all too happy to oblige his lover. He rolled over and presented his ass for the donkeyman, and after a bit of work, Jared managed to throw his hooved hands up on to Raury’s back, shove his cock deep into the Bacchus’ hole, and begin rutting.

Raury knew he should feel guilty, that he’d witnessed some strange, otherworldly horror, but just knowing it was Jared fucking him, rutting with him…it was worth it. After a few minutes, the donkey came, and it felt like fire burning into his guts. His body…it felt more real, the fat hanging off his body carried real heft, and the stench surrounding him was more pungent than it had ever been. He felt renewed, or perhaps ruined–it was difficult to tell. Something had changed, and while it worried him at some level, he was too thrilled to have Jared inside him again to really care.

“A new compact!”

“A new beast!”

“Our Bacchus forever, a true Bacchus!”

“What did you do to me,” Jared groaned, his cock still spewing, “What the fuck is happening to me–AWWW,” he brayed, and two satyrs pulled him free so they, too, could have a turn at Raury’s hole. He looked about for the rest of the night, when he could, trying to find Jared’s face again, but he had been swallowed into the morass of beasts servicing him. Still, he could feel them. There was a connection between them, Raury…owned him, in some strange way. He felt that, should he need him, he’d be able to bring him forward again at a moment’s notice. Once again, Jared was his, and that, at the moment, is all that mattered.

Waking came slowly–much more slowly than it ever had before, in part because it took him a while to realize he actually was awake. Before, the differences between his real body and the body of his dream had been so wide that he’d always been able to tell he was awake because he was smaller. It was no longer surprising that the massive body he’d had while asleep had suddenly felt so real to him–it was because it was real. Something had been keeping the beasts’ magic from fully affecting him, he realized–it must have been Aarin! Was this part of his plan too?

“No Bacchus, this is better now.” A satyr said, bleating on the couch beside him. He wasn’t certain if the thing was actually there with him, or just another figment of his imagination. “The gypsy, we had a deal, a temporary deal. A Bacchus for a year, to balance the burdens of his life, a punishment for you, but a small one. But a new deal! A deal for all of us! A true Bacchus–we haven’t had one in so long. But now, with you here, we can exist in your realm again! Your true servants, your lovers, your worshipers. You are our god, Bacchus, and we will find many more men, and beasts, to serve you now than we ever could before.”

Raury tried to force himself up from the couch, but his new weight was too much. In the more flexible reality of his dreams, he’d been able to move with difficulty, but the weight of reality had made him entirely immobile now.

“Don’t worry our Bacchus, just relax!” another satyr said who’d appeared, looking around the apartment, “You can hear the drums, can’t you? The others dancing, waiting to follow you? Relax and listen, dear god, and let them through–we will please you here now–you’ll never need to sleep again.”

“Please–Aarin…the gypsy…” He huffed, but speaking was difficult. He could hear the drums, and it was soothing. He allowed his head to fall back, and he could…feel how thin the world had become here. If he could just…bring the woods here, he’d be able to move, and think, and dance…right?

“Yes, our dear Bacchus–we hate him too, for trying to deny us what we truly need. We will find him, and bring him to you. He will be a beast like us, and serve you. After all, that would be true balance, would it not? Can’t you see it, Bacchus? Him as a beast like us, worshipping you, as he should have always done?”

He could see it. He could see so many things. The drums were louder now, the barrier thinner. He could lift his arms, and breathe a bit easier. Soon, they would all come through. They would all come through and together they would dance and revel in these streets, and all men would dance to him tunes, forever.

I Dream of Bacchus (Part 7)

He hid the truth from his roommate for as long as he could. He had some savings at least–if he managed it well, he’d be able to scrape by for a couple of months at least. He pretended to go to work each morning, and then would usually head for the liquor store, buy some fortified wine, and then sit in a park for most of the day, sleeping on a park bench. He felt most at home there–close to the trees, playing with the beasts, demanding they fuck his holes, and the beasts were all too happy to oblige. In the afternoon or evening, he’d return home and watch Jared get fucked by a guy or two, and then sleep–it was as close as he could get to an ideal life, he supposed, but it came to a crashing end, when Jared found a notice that they were behind on rent–Raury had skipped a payment in order to pay Jared–watching him get fucked was more important, right?

He’d had to tell him the truth, Jared was furious–Raury tried to console him. He could find another job, right? He’d be able to keep paying him, if he was just patient–but Jared stormed into his room, packed a bag of things, and said he was moving out.

“I don’t even know why I live with a disgusting fuck like you–I get offers from guys every day of the week to live with them, and at least they wouldn’t disgust me on a daily basis. If I ever fucking see you again, you’re going to fucking regret it.”

Raury pleaded with him, got on his knees and begged. “Please! I..I need you Jared, you’re all I have left. If I didn’t have you, I…I think I’d go insane, please, you can’t leave me!”

It was the truth. Jared was the only person he felt a connection to anymore. He spent the rest of his time speaking to beasts that were only real to him–everyone in the park assumed he was a lunatic, and he’d nearly gotten arrested the week before, when he’d mistaken a policeman on horseback for an especially handsome centaur, and begged the beast to fuck him. But he knew Jared was real–he was the only thing holding him here. If he didn’t have that, then who even was he?

“You’re ours, our Bacchus!” he heard the beasts shout around him. They had appeared in the apartment around them, and Raury looked around in horror, “You only need us, Bacchus, we’ll keep you happy, we promise.”

Jared stepped around him, and Raury grabbed him around the knees. He kicked him off, leaving him with a bleeding nose, and then left–slamming the door shut behind him, abandoning Raury to the beasts around him, who began to close into a ring.

“You don’t need him.”

“We’re all you need, all you want.”

“We make you happy, only we know what you need, Bacchus.”

“No!” Raury shouted, sending them all scattering back, “Him! I need him! The rest of you all get away from me, get away!” by the time he’d finished shouting, the beasts had disappeared, and all he felt instead, was loneliness–he hefted himself up, got a bottle of wine and chugged it, and chased it with another–with a couple of hours he was passed out on the couch, and again, found himself in a dream.

It had been months since he’d last experienced one so vivid. The smell of the forest, of the loam–it was welcoming, and yet, he couldn’t suppress the terror welling up in him. He wouldn’t be able to resist them for long–he knew this, but somehow, the loss of Jared had brought back some of his old sense of self. This…wasn’t the way things were supposed to be–it was Aarin’s fault, he had done this to them both, he’d cursed them. If he could just find him, maybe there was a way for him to fix this, to make it right for them both. He hadn’t really wanted to hurt anyone, with his cheating; he’d just cared more about his own satisfaction than anything else–but he could change, couldn’t he?

His feet were dragging him closer to the center of the woods now, and he could see the flicker of the beasts’ bonfires, the sound of their warped, jittery tunes. Even at his current size in this strange realm–at least 500 pounds, if not larger, rolls upon rolls of fat falling off him, he felt lighter than air, and he began to dance and skip as he approached the circle, though he hardly felt like dancing at all. The beasts were waiting; he took his honored place in the midst of them, lounging upon his pillows and carpets, expecting to be taken immediately as usual–but this was different. It wasn’t that the beasts were angry with him–but they seemed…nervous. There were fewer of them than usual, as well–he’d learned their names and forms at this point, and several of the more powerful satyrs were missing from the circle.

“We want you to be happy, Bacchus.”

“Happy with us!”

“If we do this, you have to stay, you have to become ours, forever, beyond the contract.”

Contract? He didn’t know what that meant, but before he could ask, he heard the sound of pipes, and a moment later, the missing satyrs came skipping into the clearing, and following them dancing along with the tune, was Jared. His face seemed sleepy, eyes unfocused–what was he doing here? Raury looked around, expecting Aarin to appear as well, but no one else came.

“He can be yours Bacchus.”

“We can make him yours! He will desire only you, like all of us.”

“Like us! Like us!”

I Dream of Bacchus (Part 6)

Raury was, in many ways, a sugar daddy–although he knew that if he so much as touched his young roommate, there would be hell to pay. No, Raury paid the rent, the utilities, the bills, the food–and in exchange, Jared had sex with as many men as he wanted, and gave Raury the occasional privilege of watching them fuck. It wasn’t easy–in this new life, Raury was no longer a high level executive, but just some middle manager with a greatly reduced salary, but if Jared demanded, then he found himself helpless–he’d pay anything to make him happy, even though it wounded him to know that he should be the one making Jared scream–but that was a different life now, and he had a feeling he’d never have the opportunity to get back.

Still, he sought out Aarin, tried to apologize, but the gypsy lover had since moved on to some other city, and hadn’t bothered to leave a forwarding address. Still, it would have been…manageable, he supposed, if it weren’t for his other job, the one in his dreams. At first, the time with the beasts was a welcome respite from his new life, and he’d often look forward to his nights spent in the wood with them, finding some small measure of comfort in how much the animals adored him, how they’d use him as a vessel for their pleasure, but where before he had still felt somewhat removed from them, after that final ceremony with Aarin and Jared, the link between them had intensified somehow. At first it was small changes, barely noticeable, but in time, he found himself losing his grip on reality in ways he could barely explain.

The woods simple seemed so much more real to him, after that ceremony. Even in the dark, the colors were more vibrant in the bonfirelight, the sounds clearer in the silence of the trees, the sensation of the beasts’ flesh against him more pressing than anything he’d felt with a human–well, perhaps anyone other than Jared. Every dream he could recall in immaculate detail, but his time in the waking world began to fade. He struggled to recall conversations and events from a week prior, and soon he was struggling to even feel present in the moment. The real world felt like the dream–without reason or logic, without pleasure. The only moments where he felt the world push back was when he was watching Jared get fucked–but even then, it only felt real because of the great pain they caused him still.

In the dreams, his body continued to change–it wasn’t long before he was cresting six or seven hundred pounds, reeking of manure and livestock, hair coating his entire body, feeling more and more like a beast himself. His waking form continued to disgust him, but now it was because he wasn’t as extreme as he desired, but no matter how much he tried to change himself–no matter how much he binged and drank and refused to shower–he no longer seemed to change at all. No, it was only when he was sleeping that he ever felt like himself–that he felt like he belonged.

His work started to suffer, and he was written up several times for falling asleep at his desk. He knew it should worry him, but the world no longer bore any real consequence for him. He didn’t exist here, in this office, in this city–not truly. No, his life, his reality was elsewhere now. This was now just a shadow, or a ghost, or a placeholder left over from some other world. It didn’t help matters when he noticed that the beasts were beginning to force themselves into his waking life as well. At first it was just the occasional sound, or the strong scent of musk, but soon satyrs would appear beside him at work, urging him to sleep, to come play with them, to let them serve their Bacchus. No one else could see them, but for Raury, they were fully real–so real that even when he sampled their cocks, on his knees in his cubicle, it tasted like he was there, and he’d quickly nod off for a quick fuck in the clearing.

Still, like all dreams, it didn’t seem possible that it might ever end. The constant days spent in the office melded together into a timeless mash. The men streaming into Jared’s room were endless instances of some faceless horde. How had he allowed himself to become trapped in such a nightmare? Why couldn’t he figure out how to stay home in the forest, in his real body, with his real servants, in his real life? He’d become so convinced that nothing would ever change, that when his boss finally called him into his office to tell Raury that he was being let go, it took the man three repetitions before Raury finally grasped what he was saying.

“You mean…I can go? I don’t have to come here anymore?” He grinned, “Oh god, I thought I was going to have to keep coming here forever!”

His boss just stared at him. “If you were so unhappy, then why didn’t you just quit?”

“I…I guess it just didn’t occur to me that I could do that,” Raury said, a bit bewildered himself. There was some reason he needed to have a job, right? He was certain there was something to that, but he was so happy he wouldn’t have to come back here again, that he decided to worry about that later. Instead, he cleaned out his desk in an hour, and hurried home–eager for a nice long nap–but when he arrived early and saw Jared, he realized why the job had mattered–how was he going to pay for Jared, if he didn’t have a job?

I Dream of Bacchus (Part 5)

All three of their orgasms came in tandem, bucking to the beat of the drums as the music became a cataclysm, and before Raury could even lick his own cum off his hand, the beasts had descended on him, desperate to make it up to him, to feed him, to give him wine, to tell him that he didn’t need those humans to be happy, that they would serve him, and delight in him, and fuck him, and abuse him. He tried to pull away from them, when he saw Aarin help Jared up from the ground and lead him out of the forest, but in his heart he knew it was too late, and when he woke up, Jared would be gone and he’d be alone–alone with these things, alone with his dreams, and he didn’t know if he was thrilled or terrified at the thought.

The beasts began to wind down, slowly, and Raury could feel himself beginning to rise out of the dream, and fade back into real life. There was sun, but he wasn’t on the couch–he was in a bed, alone, but not the bed from his apartment. It…stank. The room stank like a barn. Like manure and mud and straw, but rather than disgust him, he actually found himself relaxing into it. At least…now, he could be alone, right? He wouldn’t have to feel bad about giving in anymore, about the weight he’d gained, about his drinking, about his sexual obsessions and constant sleeping. He was so comfortable, in fact, that he almost allowed himself to drift off again, but he needed to piss, so he got up, naked, and went into the hallway towards the bathroom.

“Fucking hell…you know the fucking rule, Raury! I do not want to see that fucking disgusting body of yours naked!”

He looked over, and there was Jared, fully clothed, holding a cup of coffee, and he couldn’t believe it. What was he doing here? Hadn’t Aarin taken him away? Wasn’t that supposed to be his punishment? “I…I just had to piss is all,” he muttered.

“Get back in that room and put something on, or I’m not going to let you watch for a week, and I’ll raise the fucking rate.”

Ashamed for reasons he only half understood, he turned around and went back into the room, surveying the mess. It looked a bit like a sty, really–clothes thrown everywhere. Still, Jared…called the shots. He went around and found a pair of ratty boxers, and then grabbed a robe hanging over the back of a chair–but caught his reflection in the dirty mirror on the wall, and gasped.

He’d been changing before, bit by bit, but always gradually. Here, he was looking at a different person entirely. He just…couldn’t get past the fact that he was so…so old, all of a sudden. His hair, all of his hair from his head to his feet, was grey, and he’d balded severely. His usual layer of stubble was still present around his mouth, but he’d grown in a pair of thick mutton chops which only made his face look wider and pudgier. Even his body seemed to have contorter–he was shorter, legs stubbier and a bit bowed out, posture slumped…he was a fucking slobby mess. No wonder Jared never wanted to look at him–Raury didn’t want to look at himself either.

He pulled the robe on, checked the hallway for Jared, and then got to the bathroom, determined to fix himself up slightly. He could at least get rid of the facial hair, right? Have a shower, clean himself up…but nothing worked. Every time he ran the blade of a razor over his face, he could feel the hair being cut, but it would appear right back behind the blade’s trail, like nothing had happened at all. The same with his chops and hair–he could cut it, but it would regrow to it’s new length again in less than a second. Showering proved to be equally futile–no matter how much he scrubbed, he’d step out as dirty and stinking as he’d been getting in. This was him now–his body. He’d been…corrupted, somehow, but whether it was the fault of the beasts, or the fault of Aarin’s curse, he didn’t know. He went back to his room and cried for a couple of hours, had a pleasant nap where he got fucked by a handsome pair of centaurs, and then woke in the evening to a sudden knock on the door.

“You got the fee, pervert? Slide it under, and I’ll open the hole before he gets here.”

His body knew what to do, before his mind could really catch up. He got some cash from his wallet–a hundred dollars, and slipped it under to Jared, who took it, and walked back to his room, where he heard something shift against their shared wall–and a small hole he hadn’t noticed was revealed. Curious, he got down and looked through it, and found himself staring right at a completely naked Jared, and fuck, he was so…achingly, desperately in love, at that moment. He wanted him so badly, needed him, his cock rock hard, and he started jacking off, being careful to stay quiet–any peep from him, and…his privileges could be revoked.

Ten minutes later, he heard a distant knock at the apartment door. Jared went to answer it, and returned with a young man, and they started making out together…and Raury felt his heart start to shred, even as he grew even more turned on that before. The man had a massive cock–almost as large as Raury’s had been once upon a time–and he used it on Jared’s ass for close to an hour, Jared blowing load after load watching some stranger fuck the man who had been his ex-boyfriend, but who now…well, there wasn’t really an easy term for what their relationship was now.

I Dream of Bacchus (Part 4)

Still, after a month, things seemed to have…stabilized. He’d grown to around 275 pounds, and was hovering there. His body had filled in with hair, and he seemed to have a perpetual layer of stubble no matter how often he shaved, his hair always long and greasy. He drank three bottles of cheap wine a night, binged at a near constant rate, and endured constant ridicule, but he was feeling…somewhat more sane. And then, one night, he found himself back in the wood, but the intensity was vivid again, like that first time. He desperately tried to keep his feet from walking deeper, but like he was in a trance, he ventured towards the clearing, towards the revelry–and found someone else there, amongst the animals. It was Aarin, with a cruel smile across his face, beckoning Raury closer.

“There you are–taking your sweet time. You were almost late,” Aarin said, as Raury tried to figure out what, exactly, his ex-lover was doing here in his fucked up dreams. “Fellows, why don’t you make your Bacchus comfortable, while we wait for our other guest.”

The beasts gave a great shout and cheer, rushed over and hauled Raury towards the makeshift throne they had for him in the midst of the clearing, but he twisted and fought harder than usual, shouting at Aarin, “You–You’re the one who’s doing this to me? This is all because of you?”

“No, Raury, this is all because of you, because you couldn’t be honest. You refused to bring balance on your own, and so I’m forced to take matters into my own hands, and balance the scales myself. And of course, helping out my…acquaintances here is always a pleasure. They’ve been asking me to provide them with a new bacchus for quite some time, but I hadn’t yet found anyone willing. So, I figured, why not take someone unwilling instead?”

Raury was trying to protest and fight the beasts off around him, but as much as he loathed admitting it–he was weak. Not only physically, after his rash of changes over the past few weeks, but…spiritually as well. He’d grown to like the attentions of these beasts–his dreams felt so much better than anything in his real life, and as soon as the bladder of wine reached his lips, he drank–and thankfully, some of the care and worry slipped from his mind, and he rolled over, presenting his ass for whichever beast might desire it.

But none did–or if they wanted him, they didn’t do so immediately, like usual. He looked around, and saw that several of the beasts were hungry to fuck, but they were looking at Aarin. “What, now you won’t even let them have their way with me?”

“Calm down, Raury–we’re still waiting on our other visitor. I think I hear him now, in fact.”

Raury couldn’t hear anything, but several of the satyrs’ and centaurs’ ears had pricked up. After another minute or two, true to Aarin’s claim, someone did come stumbling out of the woods and into the clearing–it was Jared. His boyfriend was standing there, naked, with a rather confused look on his face, as he stared around at the beasts and the stranger looking at him–and Raury, of all people. He couldn’t keep the disgust from his face, the sight of the chubby, hairy, dirty man, and Raury felt so ashamed of himself–but he also felt a bit satisfied. He wasn’t going to be alone in this anymore. He could live with this, if Jared had to suffer the same fate as him–but it wasn’t the beasts who went after him, as they had Raury–no, it was Aarin who approached him, pulling him to the side, a sneer on their faces as they started kissing and fondling one another, right in front of Raury.

“No–No, you don’t get to fucking take him, he’s fucking mine!” Raury shouted.

“Yours?” Aarin said, pulling away from Jared’s hungry mouth, moving his head lower, Jared kissing at his abs, dropping lower towards Aarin’s cock. “How many men have you been sleeping with behind his back, Raury? Are they all yours too? This is balance, Raury. It’s time for the ugliness inside of you to be on the outside. It’s time for you to suffer what you have made others suffer–isn’t that right, Jared?”

Jared nodded, his mouth around Aarin’s cock–but it wasn’t clear that he even understood what was going on, or if he realized how real this dream actually was.

“Alright you beasts–I gave you your Bacchus. Now it’s time for you to give me my spell, as I requested.”

The beasts grumbled and muttered a bit–obviously a bit annoyed at having to take orders from this man. A few, under their breath, even muttered apologies to Raury, that they wanted to be serving him, and not this man, but that he would still be happy–still be their beautiful Bacchus after this. The pipes and drums began, a pulsing beat faster than the relaxing tunes they preferred, and around him, the beasts began to dance in a tight circle, chanting and singing a calamitous tune which seemed to shake Raury to his bones–but what Raury was focused on–what he couldn’t turn away from, in fact–was Aarin and Jared.

They had moved closer to him–Aarin pulling Jared up off his cock so they could dance to the strange music of the beasts in the clearing, spinning faster and faster until they fell to the ground, and Aarin mounted Jared, ramming his cock into him, and Jared screamed in delight, pushing back, eager to be filled. It was…humiliating, because the only person who had made Jared scream like that before, was him. But that said, it was also hot. He was getting aroused watching the display, watching Aarin fuck his boyfriend in his stead, and unable to stop himself, he reached down and started jacking his own cock, in quick rhythm with the music and Aarin’s own thrusting. But his cock–it was smaller, and still shrinking. Soon, it couldn’t have been more than a couple of inches long, his balls shriveling up as well, but he didn’t care. He wanted…to see them fuck, wished it could be him, but it couldn’t–not anymore–now he was worthless.

I Dream of Bacchus (Part 3)

It was later that he noticed his reflection in the mirror, and the small paunch which had appeared overnight, covering the abs he’d had the day before. He poked it and pinched it, but it was real. Maybe…maybe he really did need to go to the hospital, he thought, but he talked himself down. It was just some crazy dream, is all, he told himself, and he probably just needed…rest. He looked back at the bed and shuddered, and headed for the rest of the apartment, finding himself heading for the couch instead, where he turned on the TV, hoping he might be able to shake the dream in an hour or two–and hopefully whatever strange physical symptoms these were, they would just go away in time. He grew thirsty in a bit, and without thinking much of it, he didn’t get a glass of water, but took an open bottle of wine from the counter back to the couch with him. He’d bought it for cooking a week ago, and still hadn’t finished it–neither he, nor Jared, drank much. He didn’t bother with a glass, he just drank straight from the bottle, massaging his cock while he did so. He went up to find something else to drink once he’d finished that, but all they had was some liquor–not what he was feeling like, but it would do. He brought a pile of snacks along as well, and stuffed his face as he watched TV and drank himself into a stupor. More than once, he questioned what he was doing, and why, but it felt…right, somehow. Unavoidable.

Jared came home from work around seven, and found Raury still on the couch, passed out and snoring loudly. He stood over him, looking down at him…surprised, for some reason, but he knew that he shouldn’t be, right? Raury did this all the time–he was a bit of a drunken lout, really…but hadn’t he been different before? Jared tried not to think too hard about it, and just let his disgust overwhelm him. He can’t excuse his actions. If he wants to be a lazy good for nothing drunk, than who was Jared to try and stop him, or correct him? Jared went and put his things away, and passed back through the den on the way to the kitchen, to make some dinner for himself–assuming Raury hadn’t eaten the cupboards bare again, when he heard a strange whimper come from his boyfriend’s mouth, in between two snores. Jared looked out at him on the couch, and saw him pawing at the air, meekly–some stupid dream probably. Then, with a groan, he saw Raury arch his back a bit, and the front of the underwear he was wearing turned wet–was he pissing himself? No, it wasn’t big enough for that–the fat fuck was having a wet dream of all things. Gagging at the thought, he turned back and paid Raury no mind, eating dinner on his own, doing some work in the study, and then going to bed, all while Jared slept on the couch, deep in his dreams.

For a few weeks, Raury managed to keep some of the plates spinning in the air. He tried to keep going to the gym on a regular basis. He tried to eat healthier. He tried to keep alcohol out of the house. He tried to keep his raging horniness in check. He tried to go to work and stay focused. Some days, he even managed to accomplish two or three of those things, but no matter how hard he tried, every time Jared saw him, Raury couldn’t escape that…look of utter disgust and disdain which had appeared on his face, ever since that first big dream. He did everything he could–he even tried apologizing, but Jared just rebuffed him. He was barred from the bed, Jared insisted that his constant snoring kept him awake, and so Raury was forced to sleep on the couch every night instead. Jared hadn’t touched him once, sexually or not, in that entire time. The one time Raury had attempted to start something with him…Jared had slapped him across the face. He’d apologized, and tried to claim that Raury had just surprised him, but he insisted that he didn’t want to see Raury naked, until he got himself into better shape.

Every waking moment seemed to bring a new humiliation. He was still growing fatter, and he would outgrow new clothes within a few days–that, or they were shrinking, so they always appeared ill-fitting. His hygiene seemed to have slipped–he sweat more, and his BO had become much stronger, and taken on an embarrassing…barnyard sort of scent he was desperate to cover up, but every cologne and deodorant only seemed to make the smell stronger. People at work who used to try and ingratiate themselves with him as a rising star, were suddenly avoiding him like a plague, and his boss kept calling him in to have chats about his slipping productivity, and his sudden tendency to be caught napping on the job.

Indeed, sleep seemed to be the one thing in his life that came easily to him now, and it was the one thing which filled him with the greatest terror. So far, no dream had matched the intensity of the one which had left him unconscious for almost an entire day, but every single one took place in the clearing, with those beasts abusing and feeding him. It wasn’t too long before the stress got to him, and he started slipping further and further off the wagon. One bottle of wine a night became two and three. He would binge from the time he got home in the afternoon, until he passed out in the early evening, often before Jared would even get home from work. He found himself hornier than ever, but since no one seemed interested in having sex with him anymore–especially Jared–he found himself mastubating six or seven times a day, often right into his underwear, helplessly fantasizing about the only things that did seem to desire him–those beasts in the clearing–as twisted as that made him feel.

I Dream of Bacchus (Part 2)

He tried to fight them off, he tried to run. Most of all, he tried to wake up. But this, he could sense, was no longer a dream as he was accustomed to experiencing them. This was now something else–a vision, or a visitation.

“No, please! I’m just lost is all,” Raury said, trying to push the two stinking goatmen away from him, “Just tell me how to get home, and I’ll leave you be.”

The satyrs just bleated with laughter, each one grabbed a leg and dragged him over the earth into the clearing. “Nonsense, little Bacchus! You are our honored guest. We’ve been waiting for you to find us here, and I assure you that we can’t allow you to leave until you’ve sampled some of our hospitality. Feast with us! Drink!” He was well within the clearing now, and the two satyrs released him. He scrambled upright and went to run, but found he’d been completely encircled by the freaks. This close, he realized that their bestial nature was far more pronounced than any humanity they might have–and they were all naked, without exception, cocks from all over the animal kingdom surrounding him. “Here–sample our wine, young Bacchus! It’s been compared to sweet nectar of the gods.”

The satyr shoved a strange, bloated sack into Raury’s hands. It felt like a water balloon, but the surface seemed to be more like the lining of the stomach. It was thin, and semi-transparent–inside, he could see a deep burgundy liquid sloshing about. “My name isn’t Bacchus–I think you have me confused with someone else. My name is Raury, and please, I just want to go home,” he tried to hand the bladder back, but the satyr refused to take it.

“Ah, so young and silly! The Bacchus has a name! Young human–you might be a Raury, yes, but you are also a Bacchus. Now drink. Sample our pleasure! It does not do to be so rude to your hosts here! There are far worse things in these woods than us, and we can just as easily abandon you to them instead, and keep the deal in other ways.”

The gazes of the beasts surrounded him were chilly, and while he didn’t want to–knew, somehow, that he simply shouldn’t–he raised the nozzle of the bladder to his lips and drank a mouthful of wine. It was sweet–sweeter than any port he’d ever tasted, and left a film all over the inside of his mouth which seemed a bit greasy. The beasts urged him on further, demanding he drink more, and so he did, and when the satyrs dragged him over to a long stone table, laden with strange faire he’d never seen before in his life, he ate as well, drinking from the bladder as he did, and he felt the mood around him loosen up. The music began again, and many of the beasts danced wildly around the torches. Soon, Raury felt woozy, and when he tried to walk, he tumbled instead, landing on the ground. “Oh no! Be careful our Bacchus!” a pigman and minotaur rushed over and picked him up, carrying him over to a pile of rugs and carpets near the center of the feast. “Please, rest here–allow us to care for you, our Bacchus.”

The beasts brought more wine, and more food; Raury tried to resist, but the world was too blurry and off kilter for him to stop them from stuffing the food in his face. The faces if the beasts seemed to have turned cruel, their laughter menacing, the music growing quicker and agitated. Hooves and trotters were tugging and ripping at his clothes, and soon he was as naked as the beasts surrounding him, all of them poking and prodding at his body, until one of them rolled him over onto his full gut, making him belch and nearly vomit. The first cock slid into his ass with a bleating cry, and another beast came around to his face, forcing open his mouth and fucking his skull.

He quickly lost count of the beasts abusing him. The wine was dulling him further, and part of him even began to enjoy the treatment, finding himself craving the cum as much as the wine and the food the beasts plied him with in between each cock. At some point, the wine finally overcame him, and he passed out in the dream, falling into a deep blackness which seemed to have no end or beginning–and then he awoke with something between a moan and a scream in the bed he shared with Jared, alone. Sunlight was streaming through the windows–and from the wrong direction. He scrambled for his phone, and discovered it was four in the afternoon. He’d gone to bed around ten the night before–had he really just slept for almost sixteen hours straight? It was with further terror, that he realized it was Thursday–he’d missed almost an entire day of work. He had to call his boss, he had to figure out some way to explain this, but he felt sick to his stomach, and his head was spinning.

He staggered up to his feet and made his way to the bathroom, just in time to drop in front of the toilet and puke up the contents of his stomach into the bowl. He stared at it for several minutes, unable to believe what he was looking at. The water was crimson–not with blood, but with the wine he could still smell. There were bits of food, and a…substantial amount of white, foggy froth. At last, he flushed it down, and got back up to his feet, found his phone and called his work, using illness as an excuse. He’d been so sick, he’d hallucinated calling out in a delirium this morning, and Jared was taking him to the emergency room, he lied. Like usual, the biggest lie he could imagine paid off–and he didn’t have to worry about work the next day either, which relieved him.

I Dream of Bacchus (Part 1)

“Don’t make this a big deal, Aarin,” Raury said, as he got his clothes on, “You’re the one who said you didn’t want any strings, remember?”

“These are fucking strings, you fucker, and now I’m in the fucking middle of it. You could have at least fucking told me that I’m the fuckbuddy in this situation. Does he even know about me?”

Raury laughed, and shook his head.

“Oh that’s real fucking sweet of you. Turn me into a fucking homewrecker. Do you know, what this sort of shit does to people’s spiritual health?”

Raury just rolled his eyes and got dressed a bit quicker. Aarin was sexy–lithe, dark Mediterranean complexion, that fabulous hair rolling past his shoulder is waves, and that black beard set against his blue eyes, but as soon as he started in on his druidic, gypsy, paganistic bullshit, he did his best to exit the conversation, and the room, as quickly as possible.

“You have to tell him–I’m not going to have my balance fucked with just because you’re too chickenshit to ask someone for an open relationship. No fucking wonder I haven’t felt like myself lately, this is all fucking you!”

“Would you fucking calm down with your fucking magic mumbo-jumbo? It’s fucking fine,” he grabbed his bag, and headed for the door. “I’ll text you, alright?”

“If you don’t fucking tell him in two fucking days, I’ll know, Raury.” Aarin said, following him to the door, “If you don’t, then I’ll take matters into my own fucking hands.”

Raury whirled around, “You stay the fuck away from him–and like he’d believe you anyway, if you tried and tell him. You know what? Fuck this–I’m sick of your fucking magic shit anyway. I’ll go find someone else to fuck around with, since you can’t fucking be cool.”

With that, Raury pulled open the door and left Aarin’s apartment, leaving him fuming inside. He should have known this would happen with someone like Raury, but the energy he put out was so damn useful. Still, Aarin knew he couldn’t simply let this stand. He’d give him two days–48 hours-and if he hadn’t done anything to right this, then Aarin would be forced to balance the scales some other way instead–and Raury would have to deal with the consequences in…other ways.

A forest. Deep forest. He never remembers how he got there, or why he entered, and while he knows he should be trying to find his way out, he can sense that, instead, his path is taking him deeper still. The air is still and muffled, but on occasion, he can hear the sound of…animals in the distance. Goats bleating, donkeys braying, cows mooing.

It was now two weeks since Raury had fought with Aarin at his apartment. True to his word, Raury had ghosted him, even when he’d sent him some cryptic text a few days later–he didn’t even remember what it had said, he’d just deleted it and blocked the contact. But starting that night, he’d had a recurring dream, or nightmare…he wasn’t quite sure how to classify it. What he did know, was that each time it occurred, it was so vivid–every detail remaining with him when he awoke. He’d wanted to tell Jared, his boyfriend, about it when he woke up…but each time he’d hesitated, feeling like it would be wrong to mention it to anyone for some reason.

He was getting closer to the sounds now. Where before there was only a hint of sound in the stillness, it was becoming a rather raucous noise. Other sounds were coming through as well–the clink of metal and glass, stomping and clapping, flutes and drums and strings playing odd, discordant tunes.

Each night, the dream had grown longer. The first few nights, he’d only been lost in the forest, certain that someone–or something–was watching him, but nothing ever made itself known to him. Now, he’d begun hearing the sounds of some strange celebration deep among the trees, but the closest he’d gotten was the glint of a torch between two trunks. Tonight, however, felt different. He was deeper in the wood, but also deeper in his sleep, deeper in his mind. He was so…desperately curious, as to what was in the woods. He felt that if he could just find whatever event was occurring, that then, perhaps, the dreams would stop.

He saw the glint of light, in the distance, and realized then, how dark the forest had become. Whether it was because twilight had arrived, or because the forest overhead had become so dense as to block the sky, he didn’t know. He could barely see his hand in front of his face, and he crept closer, drawn to the light, drawn to the sound of laughter, following the odd, muddled scents of musk and manure and wine. He drew closer, so he could see who was there, and found himself confronted by the strangest sight–the creatures weren’t animals at all–or rather, they weren’t…entirely animals. He recognized the forms of some from myth–satyrs and centaurs, though their forms were uglier, more bestial than what he might have imagined. There was no clear distinction between the human and the animal in their bodies–everything seemed to have grown together into a jumble. But the faces, at least, if slightly warped, were human. That seemed, easier, somehow. It wasn’t until he’d overcome the shock that he realized how quiet things had grown, and that the beasts had turned towards him at the edge of the clearing, staring at him. They didn’t seem surprised–they seemed to have been expecting him, and from the glint in their eyes, he was no longer certain he should have found this place at all.

He tried to run back into the wood, but he got only a few yards before two satyrs rushed after him and tackled him, driving him face first into a mass of loam. “There’s our new Bacchus! Just like he promised.”

“Then we keep the deal. Come, little Bacchus! Come with us and be merry.”

That song—why in the hell can’t you get it out of your head? You’ve tried everything, listening to something else, turning it up as loud as you could, singing the catchiest thing you can think of, but it won’t leave your brain no matter what. And worse, every time it runs through your head, the feelings just get worse, and stronger, and that makes the song even louder in your mind.

You’d come out to the woods for the peace and quiet, like you did once a year, just to clear your head and refocus on your various projects, and take some time to reflect. You really like hiking and swimming, but in the city there aren’t many places to go, so you usually rent a cabin in a different place around the state, and stay there for a week or two, for some time to decompress. This is, certainly, the most remote place you’ve ever rented, but you’d found that attractive. You’d gone off trail yesterday, exploring deep into a thick copse, and you hadn’t even realized you’d been heading towards the music, hell, you hadn’t even realized it was music until you got closer, and by then it was too late to stop yourself. You’d driven deeper into the woods, and there it was, dancing around a small spring, a satyr, playing it’s pipes along with the birds, it’s huge, thick cock erect and leaking as it did, and you were entranced.

Worse, it knew you were there, it kept looking at you over it’s shoulder, daring you to come out of hiding and dance along with him, but instead you’d turned around and run away as fast as you could, but the song hadn’t left you, it was just as loud, as though the satyr was standing in the room playing to you, and you couldn’t resist anymore. You look down, and realize that you have been dancing to the song in your head now for over a minute, and you try to calm your feet, but they don’t even respond. You have one of your hands around your cock, and you’re jacking it, feeling the primal animalism of the song crowd its way down into your soul, pushing out your rationalism, pushing out your mind, replacing it with these deep urges, this dark, unknowable core, a Dionysian instinct.

You dance all night, jacking off all the while, and finally, with the dawn, the music stops, and you are allowed to collapse. In the mirror, you see your new, wild body, your body coated with fur, beard and hair wild and overgrown, the wild animal in your eyes, your cock nearly a foot long and dribbling cum on the floor of the cabin. You feel so cramped in here, in this small space, and your break out the front door, snorting and wild, and run off into the woods, shedding the last of your clothing and your humanity as you run, eager to find your master, to join his dance, to give him your soul, your mind, your spirit.