The bar was packed with all kinds of fey creatures: graceful elves and dryads gathered around tables, fairies flitted amongst the rafters, and even a few hulking minotaurs hunched in a corner… but satyrs and fauns outnumber them all, cavorting and carousing amongst themselves (and with anyone who dared get too close), the sound of drums and flutes almost drowned out by the singing.

       “First time?” the chipper voice catches you by surprise, drawing your attention away from them, and you turn to face the cute goblin behind the bar.

       “Sorry, what…?”

       “First time in a fey bar?” she smirks, “don’t worry, everyone’s welcome here… even humans,” she adds with a wink.

       “Oh, yeah,” you struggle to find the words, “a friend invited me, though I can’t see them here…”

       “Don’t worry, buddy!” the enthusiastic voice behind you giving you a little warning before a strong hand claps you on the shoulder, “you’re never short of friends here! The name’s Phil,” The inebriated satyr settles at the bar next to you, furred legs deftly hopping onto the stool, “why don’t you have a drink with us?”

       Something about his attitude, or maybe the intoxicating scent of the drink in his hand, or perhaps just the sight of his tanned chest persuades you to say yes.

       “Excellent!” he shouts to the bartender, slapping you on the back again, “a Dionysian essence for my friend here!”

       Before you have a chance to respond, a bronze cup is thrust into your hand, sloshing with rich, spiced wine. You take a hesitant sip, the warm liquid filling your mouth, the taste of a bountiful harvest. Almost instantly you feel its warmth spreading through you, easing the tension in your body.

       “Wow, this is good stuff…” you say, savouring the taste, and completely missing the changes already running across your skin. It was becoming rougher, tougher, warmed and beaten by the summer sun. Fine hairs grow thicker across your arms, tickling as they run across your chest. Across your body, every muscle relaxes, before twitching and tensing, growing stronger under your skin.

       “Careful, buddy,” the satyr jokes, looking up and down your body, “you might want to take it easy with that…”

       The wine tastes so good, your body relaxing with every sip, inhibitions fading away… before you knew it, your cup was empty, and the goblin was more than happy to pass you another.

       “... or not” Phil grinned again, leaning back to watch the show as you drink down the second cup.

       Warmth fills you again, stronger and even more intoxicating, any vestiges of self-control vanishing. You are here to have fun!

       This time the changes were hard to miss, even in your giddy state, feeling your legs shift and change under your trousers. Your thighs bulge outwards, growing thick with powerful muscle, stretching and straining at the fabric of your clothes.

       “What the…” you look down, feeling your waistband digging into your skin, fabric drawing tight around your swelling thighs. Then, the feeling of relief as fabric tears apart, seems splitting, revealing thick curls of hair covering your changing legs. Reaching down, you run your fingers through it, soft and dense and strangely welcoming, “that looks like…”

       “Mine, oh yes!” your satyr friend was quick to reply, leaning forward for a better look, ‘helpfully’ tugging away some of the tattered fabric to reveal more of your transformed legs. The thick hair kept running down, right to… “Yeah, you might want to kick your shoes off for this part,” he adds, speaking from experience.

       Too late, your feet begin to stretch out, toes and heels pressing outwards against the confines of your shoes. Pain grips you as nails dig into your shoes, crushing against each other. You reach down, scrabbling to undo your laces, awkwardly pulling your shoes off before they burst like your trousers. You stare down at your feet, watching them stretching out faster now they are freed, drawing thinner with each moment.

       Your toes tense up, aching and sluggish as they transform, nails growing thick and black and pushing into each other. “Hooves,” you manage to gasp, watching your toes merging together. You feel a growing tension as flesh and bone mingled, twitching and pushing under the growing fur, steadily settling into a pair of thick toes, each now capped with half of a goat’s cloven hooves.

       “See, now we match!” Phil jokes, giving your hooves a playful tap with his own. The sensation was strange, hard and firm yet very much a part of you, a slight shockwave running up your changing legs. Bones and muscles shifting, joints adjusting slightly to suit your lengthened feet, ankles drawing slightly shorter to balance them out.

       It was as if the changes were working back up your body, a stirring of something powerful between your legs, a rush of flesh to your rear. You shifted in your seat, sitting better on your growing ass, glancing back to watch something wriggling and pushing just as the base of your spine. Flesh pushed outwards, thick fur rapidly growing over it, longer and denser than before. It was all so strange to see, yet you felt so happy and at ease, heart beating fast with excitement.

       “What was in that drink…?” you ask, staring back at your new tail. It waggled about, curling upwards slightly, the perfect accompaniment to your transformed legs.

       “Oh, just a little recipe Dionysus put together, helps that lot grow the herd,” the barkeep replied as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

       “Yep!” the satyr chipped in, “First just gives you some extra spirit, second is where the fun begins…”

       “Ah…” you replied, grinning a little sheepishly, not sure if you should ask about the third.

       Still, whatever magic was in the drink was clearly not finished with you. Your chest heaves, drawing deep breaths to match your racing heart. Strength fills your body again, growing thick and refined across your torso, drawing your shirt tight across your chest.

       “Damn, I’m feeling good…” you say, mostly to yourself, flexing a growing arm. Thick muscles bulge, threatening to burst through your clothes, the thick hair running down to a tuft at your elbow.

       “Looking good,” your new friend replied, leaning on the bar to better admire your changing body.

       The tickle of hair spread up the back of your neck, the changes spreading to your head. Your ears twitch and tug, drawing out as if by some invisible hand, growing flat and hairy to match your goatish features.

       “Here comes my favourite part…” he smirks, looking up at your forehead.

       Twin pressures start to build on your forehead, the feeling of something hard and pointed pushing its way out of your head. Reaching up, you feel small nubs of budding horns, steadily pushing their way out of your head as they grow. You feel the weight of them growing, their ridged sides brushing past your fingers as they curl up and around.

       “Damn, you’re even bigger than me!” Phil grins again, playfully punching your side.

       You catch a reflection of yourself in the polished bartop, your face almost unrecognisable with your rougher skin, goat-like ears, and those sweeping horns… They feel like the crowning touch of your transformation, an obvious reminder of what you had just become, the bestial power of your new form. A restlessness came over you, a feeling of boundless energy, the music and song of the other satyrs calling to you.

       You hop up from the stool, new hooves clattering on the stone floor, wobbling just a little as you get used to your new legs… your new body. So many thoughts and desires filled your mind.

       This time it was you who grabbed Phil, flexing your new muscles in the process, bundling him beside you, “So, how about we have a little faun together?”

       The night had only just begun…