Sunday, December 8, 2013

Priapus, a short story

This is just a short story, not related to one of my novellas. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

Warning: Explicit sex, though all of the masturbatory persuasion.

Priapus, a fertility god

My birth was not a celebration. Hera, goddess of childbirth, resided, though that was not the best of ideas, as it turned out. My mother, Aphrodite had borne two children already, beautiful Harmonia, wife of Cadmus, and eternally youthful Eros, the archer of love. It was said I was born equal in beauty to Harmonia and as eternal as Eros. Perhaps. The poets have declared I was the son of Dionysis, that eastern youth who managed to convince the world he was divine. I don’t know. We’ve met and though I can only imagine a slight resemblance to him, I can’t see how my mother could have ever fallen for him. Unless Eros shot her. They were never on the best of terms in the best of times. In the end, it really hasn’t mattered, any of it. I was born, Hera was there, and she was feeling very revengeful. She cursed me before she even knew me. It was all Paris’ fault, that stupid youth. I would have loved to have been there when the three goddesses appeared before him – alone with the sheep on that cold mountainside. If I had been present, no doubt nothing would have changed.  The idiot always did think with his penis anyways. The fact he chose Aphrodite over Hera, well, Hera never really forgot it, even after the destruction of Troy. Seeing me, let’s assume, in my immortal magnificence, she acted swiftly. As her hand passed over me, my beauty faded and was replaced with glaring and offensive ugliness. Hera must have smiled as she condemned me, for my mother says she knew right then, I was not going to be the son she dreamed of. The height of Hera’s revenge was obvious, even then, to all who saw me. Aphrodite will never be able to shake me off as someone else’s love child. My large and perpetually erect penis was her genetic gift, kindly enhanced to ridiculous proportions by Hera.
I mentioned the lack of celebration at the time of my birth. After Hera had finished her curse upon my infant self, she handed me over to my mother. I can still remember the look of abject disgust which deformed her face. She turned away so fast, I’m sure she must have injured her neck. Holding me out as far from her as possible, she shrieked insults at Hera. Hera just smiled serenely. Then, hurtling me with a strength borne of wrath and righteousness, my own mother tossed me from the birthing room. Through the window I went. I don’t remember wailing, but I’m sure I did. I fell to the side of Olympus far from Hera’s palace and temple. From there, I rolled, striking rocks and crushing flowering weeds. I tumbled head over ass, wrapped in nothing. Bruises colored my immortal nakedness. When at last I settled, I found myself gazing into the horizontally-pupilated eye of a sheep. I do remember the shudder which racked my tiny frame. Such a strange and terrifying sight for my newborn vision. A half hour past, I had been blinded within my mother’s womb. The sheep didn’t feel too threatened though, because she kept on grazing at the shrubby grass beneath my foot. I kicked her as she crunched away, content and focused on her task. All she did was nuzzle me. I relaxed then. She was first being all day which hadn’t tried to hurt me. Even now, I refer to those sweet ewes as my true mother. They’ve never let me down. Or, tossed me from the top of a mountain.
It wasn’t soon after, maybe a day or two, before one of the shepherds found me. I was screaming, understandably, and starving. He took me to his home, no more than a shack of mud and reeds. In fact, I’m pretty sure it was only a lean-to he shared with the sheep in bad weather. Since he had no wife, he offered me some milk from his sheep. I was greedy, that first day among the mortals, and still he offered me all I desired. I grew up with him as my father. He was an honest worker and gave all he had to the sheep he depended on. He never commented on my horridness or erection and so, as time passed, I began to forget just how ugly I was and how surprising my priapism was. That naivety ended the day we went to market. I was ten. My father had been to the market often, but I had always opted to stay behind and mind the flock. This time, he asked me to go with him. So, I went. It was a very bad idea. As we walked toward town, first down goat paths which meandered across the hillside pastures, then to an abandoned dirt road, and finally to the main road which lead into the walled town, we saw no one. Now, I know how strange that sounds, but as it turned out, that day was a festival day and we were late to the festivities.
            I trailed my father into the town, between large and foreboding gates. The noise was deafening, as we got closer and closer to the town market. It was like a living beast, moaning and groaning, wailing in misery. Or, so I thought. I was wrong, the beast wasn’t sad, it was alive and joyful, not to mention very inebriated. We stepped up and joined the very edge of the beast, my father’s hand resting on my ruffled hair, people all around us swaying to and fro, all eyes on a single man standing on one corner of a dias in the center of the market. His hands were raised and weird noises rose from his throat. The same noises, as he spoke them, were echoed by people from both side of us. Confused, not knowing many words beyond the few my father spoke to me, my young mind wandered. And, as my mind wandered, so did my eyes. Beside me, a girl caught my attention. She couldn’t have been more than my age and was probably a few years younger, still, she was a bit taller than me. Her eyes rounded as her gaze swept from my head to toe, settling on my erect phallus, which my tunic did nothing to hide. I watched her closely as she tried to stifle a giggle.
            “What’s your name?” she whispered, barely able to contain her hilarity. In fact, I came close to asking her to repeat herself since I wasn’t, at first, sure of what she had said. The difficulty she had in keeping her amusement at bay, caused her to garble her words just enough.
            I looked to my father before answering. He was watching me, but offered no help. I wasn’t sure how to answer her. We had only ever called each other, “father” and “son.” Was “son” my name? Then, I remembered the one thing my mother said to me before she tossed me out like trash.
            “Tria-pes? Three feet? Oh, my gods!” the little girl erupted in laughter. She pointed at my penis, engorged, flushing crimson with my growing anger. She kept repeating my mis-heard name, getting louder each time. Her eyes were watering and she began heaving for breath.
            First her parents, then those on the other side of my father, turned toward the girl and me. The confusion was clear on their faces, until they passed their scrutiny over me. At that point, understanding dawned and their faces lit up with the joke. “Three feet… Triapes…” the murmur passed through the crowd as more and more people turned to stare at me.
            I heard myself yelling back at them, “Priapus!” But, no one cared. My father was silent beside me, his eyes darting from the throng to me and back again. I could sense his unease, however, didn’t realize it was about the judgment the people were passing on him, as my father. I mistakenly thought he was worried about me.
            The man on the dias was forgotten, as I became the main event. People gathered close to me echoing, “Triapes” again and again. Hands reached out to grab at my penis, to tighten their fist on me, to stroke me and watch me grow even harder and more swelled. My body, small, pudgy, ugliness personified, reddened and I could feel my heart pump so fast, I feared it would explode. I was terrified. I sought out my father, but he had slipped away in the mass of people. I was alone. Again. I began to shake uncontrollably, my hands fisted at my side, my eyes narrowed to slits. I reached out to shove the man closest to me. He wasn’t paying attention, his full interest on my cock. His tongue darting out as he traced a finger over one protruding vein. Falling back, the crowd reacted in horror. And, I ran. Turning my back on those horrid people, I fled from the market, from the town, surprisingly fast for such a misshapen creature. Screams chased me far away, “Triapes! Spawn of gods.”
            I never returned. I lived wherever I wandered, saying out of sight, stealing food when I got hungry. I grew up, grew uglier, and grew a bigger and more imposing phallus.

*   *   *

            Lotis caught my eye the moment I saw her. She drew me in like a moth to a flame. My cock swelled in her presence. She filled my dreams and I found myself often touching my own cock while thinking of her. With some ingenuity, I even managed to contort my diminutive body in such a way to lick and suck my tip. Oh, gods, how delicious! Various positions dominated my thoughts in the months following my first sight of her. For her part, I don’t think she even realized I was there, hiding behind the blackberry bush or in the copse of evergreens between the meadow where she frolicked with the other nymphs and the darkness of the woods. When she played among the trees in the forest hiding from those wretched, smelly satyrs, I watched. I fiddled with the head of my cock, stroked the soft and steely flesh, caressed the aching veins and then furiously pumped myself to completion. My eyes never wavered from her lissome form. She was a dark beauty, caramel skin, smooth and luscious. Her dark hair fell in silky waves to play hide-n-seek with her breasts. Her hips swayed with her every step, tempting me far beyond my sanity permitted. I was obsessed. When splashing in the stream, bathing with the other nymphs, the nearest group of tangled brushes and tall evergreens became my sanctuary. I dared not flick my gaze to any of the other sensuous nymphs for fear I would miss a single movement of Lotis. I was as if a bird in the trees. They watched my avid desire rise and engorge with impassioned blood as I observed her nipples peak and harden in the cool spring breeze. Nature’s voyeurs, I mumbled to them, my partners in this crime, as their beady eyes followed everything, heads tilting this way and that.
            And so I became Lotis’ stalker. I became her secret lover and protector, too. The satyrs in the forest, the rough lot, grew to learn of my existence. With my phallus, they had nothing on me. Cocky, they undoubtedly were, but I was far cockier than them. Even as part beast, they weren’t fools. They stayed away from Lotis, afraid of my divine wrath if one of them inadvertently fell into the trap of her succulence. For months upon months, Lotis reveled in the freedom from constantly repulsing the satyrs which continued to harass her sisters. She prayed to the gods on Olympus nightly, never realizing I wasn’t on Olympus anymore, instead remained within sight of her always.
            Then, one day, the god Dioynsis, my very own father, passed through her woods. The nymphs came to him, surrounded him, and fawned on him and his retinue as though they were rock stars. He, however, did no more than pass a fleeting caress to the nymphs as they kissed his fingers, his hips, and even his chest. He encouraged the nymphs, instead, to seek out the satyrs which trailed him with grape vine garlands wrapped around their bushy heads and syrinxes clutched in their stubby hands. Lotis wrapped herself around Silenus, the horse-human tutor of my father. He was an old, bald man with a long and grimy beard, horse’s ears, hooves instead of feet, and a horse’s tail hanging from between the cheeks of his buttocks. A real horse’s ass, he was. Especially astride his favorite donkey. And, my dear Lotis hung from his neck, her mouth pressed to his wrinkled and ruddy cheek, her legs draped lustfully around his bulging stomach and over his fleshy hips. With each stumbling step of his donkey, her hips bounced and her sex ground against Silenus’ groin. My anger flared at her animalistic longing.
            Dionysis paraded his followers through the forest and into a far meadow, further than I had been, before settling in for the evening. He called Silenus, trailed like a heart-sick puppy by Lotis, and the other satyrs to him. Ordering them all to kneel facing him, nymphs taking the opportunity to drape themselves on the laps of the satyrs, he stood towering above them. He blessed the meadow, blessed fertility, blessed his followers, and then sat down in the tall grass with them. Immediately a bright flash lightened on the very edge of the meadow and spread, rays of a celestial radiance. As the illumination grew almost blinding, it faded suddenly. Beneath the glow, now there sprouted grape vines. The vines rose, twisting high and forming their own boughs, quickly, more quickly than nature intended, and grapes began to burgeon from the vines, hanging low clusters heavy with ripe fruit. The satyrs rose, compelling, gently, the nymphs to let them do their god’s will. With haste, the goat-men harvested the ripe grapes and prepared them for the skin. Magic, it was magic I witnessed. Dionysis observed everything, his fingers twitching as he did. And, around him tables woven from wheat rose from the ground. Food fit for the god appeared on the tables. When the satyrs finished, wine was poured from goatskins near to bursting, into goblets made of stone, waiting empty on the magic tables. A feast was set. Dionysis, Silenus, the satyrs, and nymphs settled down to partake.
In minutes, I was faced with a full-on orgy. Drunken nymphs sat sprawled across the hairy thighs of satyrs, bouncing up and down, heads tossed back, and breasts jiggling. Bleating, coming, goat-men thrusted brutally into welcoming pussies and mouths. Dionysis had his own cock in hand, stroking it idly as pleasure surrounded him. Silenus, thankfully snored off to the side, having passed out early on in the debauchery. Lotis reclined beside him, her hand between her thighs, spread open and eager, her breasts flushed and pink, her eyes half-lidded, her lips slightly parted. Her hips undulated against her ministrations. She watched Silenus sleep, left to her own devices. Her orgasm was pathetic when it came, fulfilling, but not satisfying. She fell asleep soon after. The orgy endured for a short time later, each pair or threesome settling down exhausted from their depravity. Soon only Dionysis lounged awake. His sight was glued to the spot where I hid, as witness to this revel, and when our eyes at last met, I saw him leer.
“Priapus, son, why do you hide?” His voice was sugary sweet. I felt my stomach twist in nausea.
“Do not call me your son.” My own voice, unused to much practice, still dripped venom. I stepped from my hiding place. Walking close, I stood in front of my father for the first time.
“You, of all, would have been most welcome among us tonight.” His gaze dropped to my insatiable phallus. “These satyrs are nothing but feral perverts, ready for the easy lay. I dare say you, Priapus, would be a far more appreciative lover. That penis of yours is a gift.”
I looked down at the organ in question. A gift? No, a curse.
He must have read my thoughts, for his leer deepened and his voice was as alluring as a snake’s, “Not a curse, Priapus. Imagine the gratification you can serve up to the lucky cunt you choose. The deep, ravenous, onslaught against her inner folds. The ecstasy she will feel and the strength of her grip on your girth. Just imagine.”
Against my better judgment, I did as he requested. My imagination filled with the images of Lotis in all those various positions I had invented before, but now I saw them through her eyes and felt them with her senses. Overwhelming.
“Go to her, as she sleeps, Priapus. Plow her sodden pussy and fill her with your fertility. Achieve your destiny…”
Dionysis’ leer transformed into a sneer as he studied me when I turned and stalked towards Lotis, victory already filling my eyes and swelling my cock. I should have noticed that. Should have stood and studied him. Instead, I fell victim to the impulse of yet another sadist. And, this time I did it fully aware of what and who I was.
Lotis beckoned me with no words. Her body was still spread and open. Her pert breasts glistened with dew, her nipples taut in a rising breath of wind. The dark curls at the juncture of her thighs were still slightly parted by her fingers earlier and I could see her blushing lips just peeking out at me. The lightest scent of sex rose from her body. I knelt between her legs. My fingers ached to reach for her breasts, to tease her nipples. My tongue licked along my own lips, wetting them. I wanted to run my tongue around her areoles, suck her deep and nurse on her. I wanted to kiss her on her nether lips, use my tongue on her clit and thrust in deep to taste her wetness. Instead, I laid my hands on her knees and ever so slowly began to stroke up towards her womb. At the last moment, feeling her curls tickle the pads of my fingertips, pausing, I slipped my hands under her buttocks and tilted her hips up. I held her still, then, as I craftily used the very head of my cock to slide along her opening. She was ready. Silky, smooth moisture coated me. The first plunge within her was so tight, I stopped and withdrew, only my tip bathed in her cream. Rapture was waiting for us both, I could feel it. I steadied her hips in my hands, gripped her savagely, and prepared to enter her again, this time to the hilt. My eyes rolled back at just the thought of so much bliss.
The bray was startling and harsh. Silenus’ donkey was standing right above us, criticism clear in its dark brown eyes. Lotis sprang awake, her eyes taking me in immediately, her pupils contracting at the sight of my phallus, so enormous and so rigid, poised to thrust in her. Her lips curled in disgust at my stubby, naked, body and grotesquely contorted face – so close to coming already. Her scream was startling, too, though much less harsh. Melodic, even. She jumped out of my grip, fear and panic struggling to escape. I tried to follow, but the donkey moved to block my way. Enraged beyond comprehension, I used my cock to try and beat the donkey off. An impotent tool, as it turned out. The donkey continued to bray louder and louder. Soon, the satyrs were waking and the nymphs were blinking away their satisfaction. Dionysis had not moved a bit.
“Run, son! Use your third leg to get away, Triapes. It won’t do you any good here. See even the nymph flees from you!”
His mocking laugh hounded me back to my solitary existence.

*   *   *

I am a fertility god. The only thing I can breed is hope. Painful, vengeful hope from a painful, vengeful cock. You have been warned. Find me if you dare. Offer to lie with me if you desire. Fear me forever. I can do only minimal harm now. I am a fertility god, impotent for all time.