Disclaimer: The following is fiction. The story’s content does not represent the writer’s beliefs, opinions, or attitudes. This story is intended for adult entertainment only. The characters and events depicted in this work are fictional. The author does not condone or promote unlawful activity as described in the story. By continuing to read this work, you acknowledge that you are an adult who wishes to read works of fantasy and fiction for the purpose only of fantasy. All the characters in this story are adults. They may portray different ages for the fictional character they are depicting, but they remain adults at all times.
Feature Writer: Dr Jim
Feature Title: PAN’S GROVE 2
Published: 15.06.2026
Story Codes: Satanic, Mystic, Magick
Synopsis: Dave King finds himself in a small, strange town whose customs, religion, and laws are quite different from those in suburban Chicago. He is seduced by Lilith, the queen of the festival, and his entire world is changed. What will his vanilla wife think?
Pan’s Grove 2
When I awoke, Lilith was asleep in my arms, the sweet nectars of last night our only blanket. The fire was smoldering, and piles of sleeping bodies were everywhere. Waking, she smiled and kissed me warmly, her lips tasting of cum and pussy, her eyes asking if I was alright.
“I’m fine, better than fine,” I said, feeling no guilt or shame.
We couldn’t find our robes, but Lilith assured me that going to the hotel naked would not be an issue. After last night, I believed her. We didn’t talk much as she drove me back to the hotel, didn’t need to, but she scribbled her number on my hand with a pen from the glove box before dropping me off. To my surprise, both Joe and Beth were behind the desk with huge smiles on their faces and acting not a bit shocked by my nudity.
“Good morning, king!” they said in unison.
I showered and shaved and noticed that, unlike the few drinking debauches of my youth, I didn’t feel a bit ashamed or ill. I would have to tell Marilyn, though; I would be honest, no deception. I was still naked when there was a knock on the door, and I found myself answering it in that state. The mayor looked me up and down and smiled before continuing.
“Good morning, king. How are you today?” his eyes said it was more than a polite question.
He was dressed casually but completely in jeans and a dress shirt.
“Actually, exceptionally good. Fantastic. I feel transformed,” I replied spontaneously.
“Wonderful! Well, the board would like to take you to brunch. We have a business proposition for you. Can you meet us at say nine-thirty at the Magic Flute diner? Don’t worry about check-out time.”
I was extremely curious, especially about just what happened last night, and agreed to meet them without hesitation.
The diner was clean and freshly painted, but otherwise fairly ordinary (in particular, there were no phalluses). The waitress who seated me, Lindsay according to her tag, was very young and very pretty with red hair (natural, I wondered?), a short plaid dress, and cotton stockings. A few tables were occupied, and at one round one sat the doctor, mayor, reverend, and Sybil Eros the town therapist.
“No church today reverend?” I asked when he waved.
“Never after festivals. I get a day off,” he grinned.
They all smiled warmly as I seated myself. After introductions, which really weren’t needed (I couldn’t remember if I had sex with Sybil last night, but otherwise).
“Just to let you know, everyone in the diner is local,” said the mayor, “So you can speak freely. There truly are no secrets in this town.”
I nodded in understanding.
“You are now the proxy king,” he continued, “And you performed your duties admirably last night.”
“Hear, hear!” said everyone at the table.
“As proxy king, for the next year, anything you desire in this town is yours for the asking, with certain financial limitations, of course.”
This was completely unexpected. Anything? Thoughts started racing through my mind, but I quickly squashed them.
“Anything,” he repeated. “So, what questions do you have?”
So many, I thought.
“Was it the punch?” I asked. Everyone smiled and nodded.
“Yes, in part,” replied the doctor. “I discovered a local herb which I named Pan orgiaum about thirty-five years ago, which, when combined with a certain hallucinogenic plant from the Amazon, had some dramatic effects.”
“Including keeping an erection all night and producing a prodigious amount of semen?” I asked.
“Yes, extreme effects on sexual performance, but also of feelings of love, unity, desire, community,” he explained.
“But it’s not just the punch,” interrupted the reverend, “It’s the spirit of Pan. What you participated in last night wasn’t just an orgy; it was a ritual of Pan magick. Pan magick is uninhibited play.”
“Well, I prefer more scientific explanations,” resumed the doctor, “But the reverend is right. The punch wears off after about four hours. So, though it certainly sets the stage, it can’t explain what happens afterwards or the transformation which has occurred in this town. Are you familiar with bonobo chimps?”
“It’s the spirit of Pan,” interrupted the reverend again, “Bonobos settle their differences by sex, but that doesn’t explain everything. We worship Pan, and he has blessed us in so many ways.”
“How?” I asked. This was a genuinely nice town, but?
“We have no crime, no domestic violence, no divorce, no poverty,” responded the mayor. “There is no alcoholism, no drug addiction, no depression, no mental illness of any kind. Business ventures always succeed, but no one is greedy or overly ambitious.”
“What about jealousy?” I asked, “After last night, mass adultery?”
“Not even a little bit,” chimed in Sybil with a beautifully deep voice, “It no longer exists as an emotion in Pan’s Grove. We have a facility we use for indoor festivals, which is always available to the public with on-site childcare. Couples and singles meet every night of the week to share and play, and there has never been a harsh word spoken.”
“We call it the Temple of Aphrodite,” added the mayor. “It’s also staffed with female and male volunteers on call who offer their services to those without partners. Well, much of our town’s rebirth is due to the doctor,” he said, changing the subject. “He recruited an incredible team of professionals once he realized what he had.”
“Thank you, Fergus,” the doctor replied. “And I’m grateful for their assistance.”
“The punch is worth billions,” I said, guessing at the business at hand.
“Yes, but that’s not what we are thinking of doing,” said the doctor. “To market it as a sexual enhancement medication would make us money but accomplish little else. Besides which, getting it FDA approved would involve working with drug companies who would exploit it, limit its accessibility.”
Our orders arrived, delivered by Lindsay, whose bright smile was directed right at me. The corned beef hash and eggs were delicious.
“We want to change society. The only social ill we have experienced since beginning this experiment thirty-five years ago,” said the doctor between bites, “Was an epidemic of teen pregnancies. Now, we don’t allow anyone under 16 to drink punch, never have, but somehow everyone following puberty had an increase in their sex drive.”
“Well, even before puberty in one shape or form.”
“It’s the spirit of Pan, spreading love, joy, and pleasure,” said the reverend.
“Perhaps,” continued the doctor, “Once we decided to place all girls on birth control after they began menstruating, the problem was solved.”
“What about all those horny teens and pre-teens?” I asked, “Is that okay?”
“Well … yes,” answered Sybil, “First, we have a sex ed program that is, well, different,” added Sybil. “Sex-ed includes a long section on how to give and receive pleasure and has a lab in which the student practices with peers.”
She noted my discomfort.
“Younger children do not practice in class, but are educated about sexual matters. What happens at home is allowed as long as it is fully consensual. When students do have sex with parents and siblings, we discuss it in class to ensure it is consensual.”
“Everything must be in a spirit of love,” added the reverend. “No shame or secrets. Just everyone giving each other pleasure.”
“And no one participates in festivals until they are sixteen,” put in the mayor, who had finished his biscuits and gravy rather quickly, “So we believe we have an almost perfect society here. Of course, our morals do not match those of most of America. But everyone here is happy and healthy and kind to their neighbor. It brings people joy to help each other out voluntarily. Whether it is punch or Pan, and I believe it is both, utopia has been found. We wish to export it, spread the good news, and we want you to help us with this. We’ve researched you and believe you can help us accomplish this.”
“Wow!” I was a bit flabbergasted. “What can I do?”
“We want you to start with your own social circle. Talk to them about Pan, let them try punch, and see what happens,” explained the mayor, “Then we will be working on creating centers of Pan worship using the internet, starting with those that are already sexually liberated, swingers, polyamorous, etc. Your wife has expertise in social media, I believe?”
“Yes, but she would never go for this. She’s, well, a prude.”
“You might be surprised,” he said.
“The spirit of Pan will move her,” the reverend interrupted. “I’m sure of it.”
“We’re only asking that you consider this,” the mayor continued. “We would also want you to do the cost analysis as we expand, much like what you already do. Give it a chance. We’ll come up with a contract in the meantime that I assure you will be extremely generous.”
The mayor looked at me and smiled.
“And remember, you are the king regardless of what you decide.” Lindsay had finished clearing the plates and returned to ask if there was anything else. More coffee? My head was still swimming from the last 36 hours, and now a job offer! Lindsay was so cute with her beaming smile and red lipstick.
“Lindsay, how old are you?” I asked.
“Sixteen, King,” she glowed.
“Where you at the festival last night?”
“No, darn it!” she frowned, “I drew the short straw and had to babysit.”
“Lindsay, please take off your panties,” I couldn’t believe I was doing this.
“I’m not wearing any, king,” she grinned and licked her lips.
“In that case, hop up on the table here and pull up your dress.”
She did as told, revealing a trimmed red bush. Her labia were moist and full, and I immediately started to lick them. So fresh and fragrant. Everyone in the restaurant could see what was going on and hear her moaning, but I didn’t care. No one said a thing. After about fifteen minutes, she was flushed, sweating, and her eyes were glazed. She was dripping onto the table, and her juices were running down to the floor.
“Lindsay, are you a virgin?” I asked. She laughed.
“Hardly, king.”
“In that case, please sit on my cock,” I gently commanded.
Getting off the table, she unzipped my trousers and pulled out my rigid dick, then mounted me in a single movement, letting out a scream that made everyone turn to look. She needed no further instruction, riding me like she had taken lessons (which I guess she had). We reached orgasm at the same time.
“Lindsay, I’d like a little fresh cream in my coffee,” I said, before she got off me.
She giggled, then took my cup off the table and, sliding it between her legs, let my cum dribble into it, then passed it to me, kissing me on the cheek.
“Thank you very much, Lindsay.”
“My pleasure, king,” she said. Then, after composing herself, she said to the mayor: “Daddy, can you pick me up at 3 today?” Oh.
“Of course, baby,” he replied.
Then he turned to me with a grin.
“We have something for you to help you begin this project, though you are under no obligation,” she said without hesitation.
He pulled out a box from under the table. It contained ten wine bottles filled with a purple liquid, Pan’s punch. He handed me a folder.
“And here is some information about our town you will not find on the internet, along with our contact info.”
“So, what do you call what happened last night?” I asked, “It can’t be Midsummer every month.”
“Well, whatever festival is being celebrated: Yule, Beltane, Samhain, etc., when appropriate. But the more general term is: ‘còmhla’ or ‘còmhla gnè’, which is from the Gaelic and means ‘together’ or ‘together sex’,” explained Reverend Hardy.
“This is a lot to digest so quickly,” said the doctor, “Think about it, try the punch, talk to friends.”
“We wish you well,” said the reverend, getting out of his chair.
He put his hand on my head.
“May the blessings of Pan be upon ye.”
He moved his hand to my crotch.
“May the spirit of Pan be in ye.”
Definitely not the church I grew up with.
Beth refused to let me pay at check-out and fell all over herself trying to please me, giving me bottles of water and snacks for the road gratis. I laughed as I passed the welcome sign on the way out of town because it said, ‘Thank you for coming’ on the back side. But I knew my humor was an attempt to hide a real sadness: I didn’t want to leave this place. Even though I had only been there for a day and a half, it felt like home. It felt better than home, actually, a place where I could fully be my true self, not stifled, constrained, hidden, denied. I had acted on all my desires last night without regret. But this was not my life.
As I accelerated onto I-64, I thought about how much I’d changed. I had been raised to believe that homosexuality was not tolerated by god, that he rained down fire on cities for the offense of sodomy, and that lust itself was a damnable sin. Those beliefs had still been buried deep. Now they were gone. I had acted freely and loved it; I wanted more. But I didn’t want to hurt Marilyn. I loved her and wished her only happiness. I loved her and wanted to share this with her. But I was afraid.
We had met as freshmen at Calvary University in Kansas City, a very conservative, biblically based school with strict rules. She was a Baptist minister’s daughter; my father was a small-town pharmacist and Elder at the Lutheran Church. We were both very restrained, didn’t smoke, drink, or do drugs, but our passion ran deep.
As we dated, our sweaty, breathless making-out sessions quickly progressed to heavy petting. One night, I was in her room with her on the bottom bunk (which was very much forbidden) and sniffed my fingers, which were wet with her juices. I lost control, overwhelmed, possessed, and took off her panties and buried my face between her legs. She did not protest, but rather spread her legs wide.
There was a hard knock on the door: her roommate. We both panicked, ran out the door and down the hall holding hands, and hid in a utility closet. Within seconds, I was inside her, surrendering both our virginities. The roommate, Mona, who I later suspected was in love with Marilyn, was not pleased and, using the wet panties we had left behind as evidence, reported us to the authorities.
The next two months, we lived in fear of a pregnancy we couldn’t explain to our parents, but the test was negative. We were both expelled, however. Passion has its consequences. We both transferred to the University of Missouri and have been together ever since. Those passions seemed to wane and become more constricted with time and parenthood, however, at least for her.
I had been agonizing all day about the possibility of having to choose between Marilyn and Pan’s Grove as I pulled into a rest stop in the hills outside Cincinnati late in the afternoon. On the far side was a forest of maple and sycamore with a dilapidated wire fence and a ‘No Trespassing’ sign blocking entry.
It occurred to me that perhaps I needed to change my approach. I no longer accepted the god of the Israelites, but I did believe in an unseen world. If Pan existed, he was clearly there last night; I had felt his presence. I had felt possessed; why not surrender to him now as well?
I got out the folder the mayor had given me, and peeking out of the pocket was a small, slim book, ‘Prayers to Pan’ by Reverend Hardy. As I pulled it out, I laughed till I cried: there was a nicely done drawing of the god … with a huge erection! Not going to find that prayer book in the narthex rack at my church! I headed for the forest with tears in my eyes.
I ignored the sign and crossed into the woods through a break in the fence. The forest belonged to no one, I thought. It was of itself, growing and alive in every part. The shrubs and ferns were dense, and there were fallen trees, but all was green, and moist, and fragrant; and the bushes and plants left dew and the smell of living things on me.
I removed my clothing piece by piece, leaving it in the undergrowth as I worked my way deeper into the woodland, reaching a partial clearing naked, where the ground was covered with moss and rays of sunlight flickered. I fell to my knees, since that’s what I had been taught was the proper way to pray, opened the book at random, and read out loud:
“Io Pan! Lord of forest and grove, Master of meadow and stream, Possess our bodies now, Fill us with your lust, To fornicate in your honor. Fulfil our desires we pray, so we may fill your carnal cup, With our spilt sacred fluids, And come together as one, To praise your Great Name, Forever, Io Pan!”
I closed my eyes. The branches rustled in the breeze. The birds sang back and forth, mating cries. The soft, spongy moss comforted me, and the fertile earth enveloped me. Everything smelled of life. I have no idea how long I rested there, but at last a feminine giggle roused me, and I saw a fair blond-haired maiden peeking out behind an oak at me with an impish grin.
Her eyes sparkled as she slipped around the trunk, never taking them off mine. She was gloriously naked, slender and smooth, her skin glowing. Gliding across the short distance between us, she bent down to me and kissed my upturned lips with a kiss that tasted of sweet wine.
Taking a step back, she lifted her hands skyward and slowly began to turn. Her body was perfect, but as she continued to turn, still giggling, it began to change. Her round buttocks became more muscular, her shoulders widened, and her legs became furry.
Standing before me was a young goat-man, complete with short horns and a large, though flaccid penis. The nymph had become a faun. It was not Pan himself: he was young and had no beard, and his horns were just developing; and the sparkle in his eyes told me it was the very same being as the nymph. He bent down and kissed me, the same kiss I had received moments before. And then he was gone.
I knew in that moment that I wanted him and wanted to be had by him. And I wanted her as well. I wanted to lose myself in lust just as I had the night before, to be overwhelmed, to be a beast, in the moment, free of thought and worries. If I focused on the pleasure, savored it, remembered it, then the mind that generated futures filled with fear and anxieties and resentment could no longer cause me pain.
THE END