Pan

Pan clopped into the Starbucks like he owned the fucking place, his massive horsecock swinging between his furry goat legs. The numale Redditors froze, lattes halfway to their gaping soy mouths. A wave of triggered outrage and poorly suppressed arousal swept through the crowd of neon-haired feminazis. They'd never seen a real god before, much less one with a schlong the size of their arms.

Pan grinned, drinking in the heady cocktail of fear and yearning. Stupid fucking humans. His eyes locked on a chunky "body positive" girl with thick rimmed glasses and a bad case of resting bitch face. He walked over, hooves clopping on the tile. Without a word, he whipped out his mammoth meatstick and slapped her across the face with it. The heavy smack rang through the cafe. The girl shrieked, fumbling her phone.

"What's the matter, honey? Never been cockslapped by a demon-god before?" Pan laughed, never failing to amuse himself. He grabbed her latte and took a swig, then spit it on the floor. "God that tastes like shit. You actually drink this crap?"

Meanwhile, Panthia was having some fun of her own. She squatted over a numale's pumpkin spice concoction and let loose a hot stream of piss, tittering as he watched in impotent shock. "Oopsie! I made a little tinkle in your coffee!" she said. "Maybe if you're a good little cuck and lick it up, I'll let you sniff my divine cunt. Would you like that, cucky?"

The Redditors began to recover from their shock. A few of the braver ones started whipping out their phones to film, no doubt hoping to cancel the gods on Twitter later. Others began arguing amongst themselves:

"Should... should we ask them their pronouns?" "No way, that's literallyrape!" "Um, excuse me, xer? Could you maybe put a trigger warning on your ginormous cock? It's really problematic." "REEEEEEEEEE!"

Pan just laughed and laughed. Humans never changed. Always obsessing over all the wrong shit. Maybe it's time I teach these little bitches a lesson, he thought to himself.

The heavy wooden doors of the cathedral burst open with a splintering CRACK. There in the entrance stood Pan, naked as the day the universe created him and twice as randy. The bright morning sun flared behind his muscular silhouette, blinding the congregation. Hymn books dropped from limp fingers. Jaws went slack, eyes wide as onlookers gasped. An old mexican woman in the front pew crossed herself and began to pray feverently under her breath.

Pan strode forward, hooves click-clacking against the stone. His massive horsecock, half-hard, swung heavy between his legs like some obscene metronome. The priest at the pulpit gaped like a fish out of water, the blood draining from his face. A demon, here, in the house of the lord! his mind gibbered as his heart seized in terror. But no - it was worse than that. This creature, this abomination... it could only be one damned soul. The fallen angel himself, Lucifer, the great deceiver, come to Earth to work his evil upon the righteous!

"B-begone, foul demon!" the Father managed to stammer, holding up a shaking hand as if to ward off the advancing beast-god. "I abjure thee, by the power of Christ! The power of the holy cross comp-"

Pan threw back his head in mocking laughter, the sound echoing loud off the stone walls. "Christ? You think that dead hippie jew can help you now, preacher man?" His cold eyes glittered with malice. "Your god is a lie. A fairy story made up by fools and believed by even bigger fools. But me? I'm the real deal, baby."

The priest shook his head, tears of desperate denial springing to his eyes. "No! Lies! It's all lies!" He grabbed his heavy gold cross from around his neck and held it before him like a shield. "I cast you out, Satan! I cast you out! The power of Christ comp-"

Pan moved in a blur, crossing the distance between them in an instant. His hand shot out, grabbing the priest by the neck. He lifted the old man off his feet as easily as a feather might lift a small child until they were eye to eye. "Listen to me, you retarded halfwit," Pan growled, his face inches from the priest's. "I'm not Satan. Satan's a punk bitch compared to me."

The little girl stood outside the chainlink fence, a delicate pixie of a child. Her name was Emily, though in truth it didn't matter what her name was, or even that she had a name, at least not to Pan. To him she was just a tight set of uncorrupted holes. Just another day, another game for the demon god to entertain himself with. He leaned against a tree, idly twirling a big colorful lollipop between his fingers, and watched her with eager eyes as she giggled with her friends.

Emily was in first grade, though Pan didn't know that, either. All he saw was the pink of her cheeks, the golden sheen of her blonde hair, the rustling of her little skirt around her skinny legs. As she giggled and laughed with her friends he felt his massive unit starting to swell.

When she caught him watching her, he gave her a hungry but charming smile. "Hey, little girl," he called out. "You want some candy?"

Pan didn't wait for an answer before casting his spell. It shimmered through the air between them, invisible and insidious. Emily felt it wash over her like a mother's warm embrace, causing a flush that made her fidget and press her thighs together without understanding why.

She glanced back at her friends, the spell pulling her toward the goat-demon stranger even as some small instinct screamed at her to run away. "I'm not supposed to take candy from strangers," she said. But she took a step closer anyway, her feet moving on their own.

"Aw, but I'm not a stranger." Pan held out the lollipop, wagging it back and forth in a hypnotic motion. "In fact, your mommy told me to give you this!"

The festival pulsed with the beat of wine drunk sluts and studs, Dionysus and Eros and Priapus all rolled into one throbbing, Hellenistic throng of fuckery. In the center of it all lounged Pan, his horse-cock jutting towards the star strewn sky like a pagan statue of virility.

A group of naked maenads attended his titanic meat, sucking and stroking his balls, shaft and head, eager for his unearthly cum. Their mouths drooled, crazed with lust, as men joined in and fucked them from behind. Pan barely seemed to notice, draining a flagon of sweet red with a smug look on his goatish face.

Around them, the bacchanal raged. Satyrs copulated with squealing wood nymphs, hairy rumps pounding in and out in a frantic rhythm. A screaming young maiden, hymen freshly bloodied, was held aloft by a horde of revelers and passed around like a party favor. Her ecstatic screams pierced the deep night.

Panthia swaggered up to Pan, her tight ass swaying side to side, her fuzzy cunt swollen and dripping juice. "My Lord," she said, "Is this celebration not to your liking? You seem somewhat distant. What weighs on your mind?"

Pan chuckled, grabbing a fistful of maenad hair and shoving the dumb slut further down on his godhood until he saw her throat nearly double in size. "Just thinking about the future, my sweet little slut. Wondering how all of this might turn out. Ever feel like it's all about to change?"

The old goat god leaned back in his chair, hams cocked up on his cluttered desk, idly picking at his teeth with a splinter of bone as he regarded the woman with bored amusement. Pan had been hiding out in this dilapidated shithole of an office building for months now, squatting in the abandoned tax accounting firm on the 12th floor like some kind of homeless hermit. The young woman, sweaty and dishevelled, her lactating tits leaking milk through her stained tank top, held the bawling abomination up to his face.

"This is your child!" she screamed, nearly incoherent with rage and exhaustion. "I've been carrying this fucking freak for nine months and now you're going to pay child support or I swear to God I'll - "

Pan cut her off with a barking laugh, his hooves kicking the desk as his body shook with each bellow. "Bitch, do I look like I have any money? I'm an immortal fucking spirit, what do I need cash for?" He glanced down at the squirming half-goat baby, its hideous little face already sprouting wispy white chin hairs. "Besides, that could be any goat-man's kid. How do I even know it's mine?"

The woman sputtered, her rage building into a froth-mouthed fever pitch. Pan could practically smell the crazy emanating from this desperate skank. "I haven't fucked a goat man in my entire life except you! You're the father and you know it!" She shook the baby in his face, it's big head jerking back and forth. It let out a bleat like a baby goat.

"Listen, you knew what this was," Pan said, his voice dismissive. "You begged me for it, remember? Followed me into the woods, got down on your knees, told me you wanted to 'commune with nature' or some shit. Well, congratulations, this little bundle of joy is what you get for letting an ancient god pump a load into your dumb cunt."

The primitive Greek peasants groveled before Pan, their dirty faces laden with desperate hope. They had trudged up the mountainside to his shrine outside of his cave, bearing offerings - a few scraggly chickens, some stale bread, a skin of vinegary wine. All they had left after a season of failed crops and hungry bellies.

Pan smiled, sitting on a rock, idly stroking his horsecock and scratching his heavy nuts. These sad little humans never learned. Always praying, always begging the gods to solve their problems. Their desperation made him hard.

An old man with a face like a dried up fig shuffled forward and knelt low in front of pan, forehead touching one of Pan's hooves. "Oh great Pan, we beseech thee! Bless our crops, make the earth rich and fertile again! Without your divine favor, we shall surely starve."

The man's wife crept up and laid a hand on her husband's shoulder. "We bring you offerings, lord. Our finest hens, our best bread and wine. And..." she paused, eyes droppping. "And our children. To serve your holy loins. We only beg that you be gentle and kind."

She waved her hand and a gaggle of peasant children were herded forward, eyes wide and terrified in their grubby faces. The youngest couldn't have been more than nine summers old, the oldest around sixteen. Pan laughed to himself. Humans. So quick to feed their kids to monsters, just to live a little longer. His cock stood at attention at the sight of those tender young bodies, precum already leaking from the wide, flared tip.

"Do you really think me to be so desperate that I would offer my services for this sad little lot?" Pan knew he had to hide his eagerness. After all, it was always best to negotiate from a position of power...