tagSci-Fi & FantasyThe Tragic Amours of Erysichton

The Tragic Amours of Erysichton


TWAS a fine day in the land of the gods, and Erysichton was cavorting about the fine country with his entourage of troglodytes and ne’er-do-wells. It was indeed in the bleak midwinter in which we set our tragic tale. November had fallen like a delicate flower upon a corpse, and the children of the land could be seen to play with a certain preternatural grace. It was the eve of Guy Fawkes and throughout this marvellous kingdom Kent’s fledgling had busied themselves with the task of collecting firewood for the coming celebration.

Son of Triopas, our young Odysseus was endowed with all the arrogance and impiety of his father. He was a handsome young man who sweat charisma through his pores and acted with a deliberate passion and ferocity which seemed more characteristic of animal than man. But of course Erysichton knew full well he was handsome too, in fact he put the narcissus in narcissusistic. Born under a setting sun and possessed of the stamina of a demigod, his father was determined from birth that his son should grow up to be, if nothing else, a man.

The friends Erysichton chose were out of necessity rather than want of anything, let alone companionship. Aesthetically, they bore little resemblance to anything even remotely physically attractive, and mentally they had a little to be desired. Erysichton had slowly moulded his friends into his followers and in doing so had distanced himself from everybody around him leaving this solitary Odysseus with much time for contemplation and much opportunity to achieve his own ends.

This seemingly innocent hunt had led Erysichton and his comrades to the kingdom of the gypsies. The gypsies are a foul bunch of work-shy, thieving degenerates who care little for the customs or values of any society, let alone that of England.

“We’ve not got much fucking wood have we yet, you stupid bunch of fucking cunts?” Eloquently proclaimed Erysichton.

“Yeah, we know but we are in the fucking gypsy area now aren’t we.” Rejoined Sebastian.

“What’s your fucking point you little fucking spunk bubble?”

“Look it’s like this . . .” Offered one of the troupe.

“Like what?” He expostulated almost incredulously.

“We can’t fucking well go in there!” He said as he wildly gesticulated in an effort to point in a particular direction.

“Why are you swearing? I’m not swearing.”

“We are going to have to leave you alone on this one.”

“No you're fucking going in there.”





“We can’t do fucking we’re this we’re afraid.”

“I obscenity in the milk of thy fear.”

“Now that’s the last fucking straw. Thou hast resorted to trying to parody Hemingway. Thou shalt walk alone on this, thy mission.”

“Thou hast the stomach of a pomidor.”

“Balls to pomidors. You’re out of your fucking mind.”

“Whatever I am, that is not something I could admit to.”

“Well it’s fucking true alright. You are out of your fucking mind. No matter what you do or say will change our minds.”

“Then fare thee well strumpets.” Erysichton exclaimed making a resigned gesture of dismissal.

Erysichton’s comrades aggressively sauntered off into the distance, leaving our young hero on the path to his fate. Unfortunately the path having been recently trodden by what appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of travellers, left this trail so implausibly scarred with the faecal matter of this strange people to make it look as though it were the path to hell. But “fuck it” he thought, he needed wood.

Donned in the height of fashion, Erysichton not so much walked as waded through the wasteland. Within a short time, our hero was chanced by the merry songs of the gypsy folk playing in a field nearby. Although he could not see the performers, he could hear the sound of their off-key wailings drift heavily through the air.

It had been raining a great deal that November so most of the wood that would have been perfectly suitable otherwise was now saturated with heaven’s waters. Erysichton could not be sure why he was drawn to this area or why he believed the wood here would be any better, nevertheless he was correct in assuming that here would be precisely what he had searched for.

Erysichton wandered through several clusters of trees, still clearly damp, until he came to an area which somehow seemed to suggest there was something slightly different in the land. Looking up unto the skyline Erysichton discovered a curious autumnal fruit of the likes he knew not of. Aesthetically beautiful though it was these few trees were exactly what he believed he had been in search of.

Having his axe to hand meant that Erysichton needed only to fell this mighty tree in order to reap the rewards he so sought. He swung the axe round to rest on his shoulder, then with all his might heaved his tool through the air to embed its edge into the tree. After having done this a few times and made a great fucking racket Erysichton had unfortunately stirred the attention of a rather vengeful gypsy.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Screamed the surprisingly attractive, but still very slutty looking gypsy girl. “Do you have any fucking idea what you are cutting down there?” She continued, obviously not allowing Erysichton the chance to actually answer back to any of these pointlessly rhetorical questions.

Of course Erysichton did not know that he was cutting into a tree which was sacred to these people. Nor did he care, after all they were gypsies.

“Oh you like this eh bitch?” He said, as he flexed his manly pecs and swung the axe once more into the wood, producing a resounding crack.

“Will you fucking stop that or not?” Again another rhetorical question issued forth from the mouth of the gypsy who just happened to have a fine rack.

The succession of questions of the part of the gypsy and the manly responses on behalf of Erysichton came to nothing but frustration. The gypsy was clearly distraught and her feeble mind soon turned to violence. She began to formulate a plan in her mind a plan of not so much fiendishly ingenious brilliance as it was pretty fucking stupid, though it did have murderous intents.

The gypsy girl went by the name of Demeter, and it was in her sacred grove which Erysichton had dared to fell timber. It had first occurred to Demeter to simply stab the fuck out of Erysichton and kill him that way, until she realised that he had an axe and she had but a knife so in order to get him into a position where he would be compromised she would have to compromise herself in some way. With this in mind, Demeter retreated to her nearby shitty little caravan in which lay a trap soon to be put into action, and began preparations for her fiendish plan.

Gypsies are simple folk by nature, so preparations for Demeter’s fiendish plan involved only ridding herself of her underwear and waving it at Erysichton.

“Ooooo. Aren’t you thirsty after all that hard work?” She tried. “Why don’t you come in here and take a rest while I provide you with a little refreshment of the horizontal kind.”

Erysichton being a man could not resist a temptation such as this, no matter how much of a filthy whore he thought she was. So he threw down his axe and strode across to the caravan. He stepped inside to find the gypsy lying on a useless excuse for a bed, which was presumably stolen, and hiked up her skirt to allow Erysichton to see her snatch. It was a surprisingly nice looking one at that considering the amount of dicks she had taken over the years. Erysichton didn't care too much who she was or what her name was, because his principle concern at that point was simply to get his end away, with his secondary concern to gather some wood.

So, Erysichton unsheathed his mighty, pretty average sized, pork sword and just dived straight in. After all, Erysichton was no woolly-minded idealist, he fully realised that there was no need for a lot of fucking about with inconsequential things like foreplay where sluts are concerned. He slid his length right in to the hilt and was a little disappointed to not actually feel much, well anything, at all.

“Can you close your legs a little? I'm not even touching the sides (!)” He politely asked.

She swung her legs up and over his meat and brought her thighs up to her chest, in doing so clamping shut her gaping hole so Erysichton could finally feel flesh touching his. It came as a surprise that the flesh of a gypo cunt was actually warm and soft and rather inviting. The friction was barely present, but created enough sensation to stimulate his cock.

However, after fucking away slowly for about forty minutes without even coming close to any form of gratification he decided to change tactics. Instead he began to pump away vigorously as if his life depended on it. Sweat pored in torrents down his face as he continued to thrust away with a definite medal-worthy determination. Unfortunately he appeared to make no impression upon the gypo bitch, being as she was, utterly silent.

“Do you have to just lie there like that? I feel like I’m fucking a corpse.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Make some noise. Make some fucking noise. I live for the noise!”

To this seemingly peculiar rebuke she decided to hum the tune to ‘Mary had a little lamb’.

“You’re fucking pushing me now.” He screamed. At this point he was clearly foaming and frothing at the mouth like a rabid dog.

“I’m going to fuck you like a crazy bitch.” He decided. “And while I do you’d better make some fucking noise. Just something vulgar . . . I’m going limp here!” At this last remark he feebly tapped his withered cock against his leg.

“You are an amazing lover . . .” She began.

“Oh really?”

“. . . your cock . . . its so goddamn big . . .”

“Yes well I’m happy with what I have.”

“. . .I’ve taken big cocks before but yours is fucking huge . . .”

“Oh yeah, bitch, that’s me.”

“. . . I had to bite my tongue from screaming just now . . .”

“Don’t you fucking know it.”

“. . . oh god yes it was ripping me in half . . .”

“Well it’s not done much for my cock, but my ego is through the roof! Anyway, that’s not what I wanted from you, exactly. Just make some noise I can fuck to.”

So, finally Erysichton got what he wished for as she erotically enunciated the vowels - ayyyyyyyyyy, eeeeeeeee, iiiiiiiiiii, ooooooooooh, uuuuuuuuu, and sometimes ‘y’ - to the rhythms of his continued and utterly indomitable humping. By now however Erysichton was feeling more than a little tired and frustrated, so he withdrew from her chasm and took to beating his meat with an effort and speed affording a god. It was his aim to shoot his load in her face as a fine gesture of his manliness. Of course he possibly could have told her this for she was wholly unprepared for what was to come next.

Erysichton beat his meat with great fury and with an explosive result, for within a few seconds of withdrawing his member he hit the gypsy with a money-shot right in the eye. This caused great outrage, not to mention great pain on the part of the gypsy girl with the foreign substance in her eye. The bitch screamed bloody murder while Erysichton was almost painfully consumed with mirth at this outrageous situation and the sight before him. Of course this new happening resulted in the cunning plan, to mutilate or at least kill Erysichton, to become so awry that it could not now come to a head.

So, Erysichton was now spent and so tucked away his cock and still mumbling in starts and stops an obvious stuttering laughter. The gypsy still wanted, even required, revenge for Erysichton’s heinous deeds and summoning up her strength, fuelled by great wrath, she chased after Erysichton with a jar in her hand. Erysichton had not wandered far from the caravan and was still amused with the mornings events, regardless of the lack of wood, and so he was still occupied by his own cogitations when he was chanced once again by, the now outwardly wrathful, Demeter. She ran from behind him straight past him and then back again, though on the way back left her passing gift to him with a fond farewell.

“From this day on you will fuck and fuck and fuck and you will never have enough. You will fuck until you can fuck no more but that will not be enough. You will fuck, until you eventually fuck yourself!” She screamed, in his general direction, as she threw the jar’s foul concoction onto his groin.

Almost immediately did the vitriol have an effect, because almost without delay could Erysichton feel an overwhelming itching in his groin. He began to scratch and dig at his crotch but to no avail. He scratched and squirmed and dug and rubbed and all the while the pain only increased. The pain increased to the point that his loins felt like they were burning in hellfire. As the fire raged away, Erysichton poured forth his vile rebuke.

“You think I’ll weep, no I’ll not weep. No you unnatural hag. I will have such revenges on you that all the world shall - - I will do such things what they are, yet I know what; but they shall be: the terrors of the earth!”

Demeter fled into the, relative, wilderness leaving Erysichton alone to nurse his itching balls and bruised ego. Now, Erysichton was intelligent but not so intelligent as to know what the fuck was going on. His mind was reeling and he could not control anything he thought and could barely control his body. One consolation was that his legs seemed to work, so with this one function in his control he began to run until he could run no more and then had to stumble onwards and onwards until he could regain his mind.

Erysichton wandered through the wilderness with a mind clouded by a thousand men’s perverted thoughts. Knowing not what to do, he stumbled onwards with a definite pain in his mind for want of knowledge to realise what had happened, and not to mention the painful ache in his groin.

He trudged onwards and onwards not even looking where he was going, so it came as a surprise to him when he happened upon a clearing in the woods and came as more of a surprise when he found that here was also a waterfall. Though, after what had happened to him that morning he accepted this new experience with more nonchalance than the occasion would have otherwise called for.

Erysichton’s loins seemed to be consumed with a heat unimaginable, for although there was no inflammation to speak of a powerful metamorphosis had already begun to start in his body. As he rushed to the waterfall, what he believed would be his source of relief, he was suddenly taken aback and then became mesmerised at what he could now see and hear.

Erysichton witnessed something of awesome splendour of the likes he had never seen before. Emerging from the naturally beautiful display of the cascading veil of water came a quintet of what appeared to be water-nymphs. These mysterious seductresses had all the form and grace of angels and sang their tragically poignant confession, thus:

“We love each other, as men ne-ver could.

Consumed with passion, for each we love.

And do-ting-ly,

By false means we share.

“We feast upon the vi-gil.

Crying only songs of love.

And ten-der-ly,

We have each other so . . .”

As if this was a cue from another, each of the nymphs took to busying themselves in enjoying the pleasures of the flesh. A kind of crude and animal-like poetic fervour took possession of them.

Somewhere in the back of Erysichton's mind, he realised that he had not so much been cursed again but now he had become truly enchanted. If only Erysichton could manage to get any logical part of his brain to function then he may have been able to control himself and his actions. However, unbeknownst to our hero these nymphs were actually beautiful sirens, adroitly skilled and experienced in the art of seducing men and luring them to their death after performing a whole catalogue of sordid and perverse acts. They went by the rather earthly yet still lyrical names of: Stacey, Tracey, Sharon, Giselle, and Mercedes.

Many years of modern man had destroyed all confidence the sirens once had that there was any point in their ritual of sex and death and instead had allowed themselves to gradually become more introspective. Thus the mystical quintet had become increasingly inward looking for their satisfaction, and in place of the bizarre rites of the past, the group had immersed themselves in a new, and seemingly more innocent, delight.

The fact that this numinous sorority had decided to sing for Erysichton could have been considered mysterious itself if we were not to mention the effect it had on him. Nevertheless, some things will never be explained and others need not explaining at all.

So, Erysichton stood and watched, he watched mesmerised as the five sirens put on a display for him. The spectacle before his eyes was one of such poetic grace as to appear spontaneous and possibly ephemeral, yet maintained a certain passionate ferocity which could only be explained by the love they shared.

Each of them took turns to meet the others with tender, affectionate kisses. Tracey and Sharon, and Giselle and Mercedes lingered awhile longer enjoying themselves, leaving Stacey to step down onto hands and knees on the moist, warm bed of moss. Stacey bent forward resting her face on her hands and pointing her womanhood at her sisters, beckoning them to their duty. Now each in turn made like the first, until Stacey was at the fore and Mercedes completed the chain. Tracey, Sharon, Giselle and Mercedes each had their face buried in the woman in front, leaving only Stacey to voice their collective screams of joy and pleasure.

Each of the nymphs had their tongues buried in their lovers cunt and were eagerly lapping up the sweet nectar therein. Stacey being at the front of the group coaxed Erysichton toward her and he more than willingly obeyed. She guided him to her rose-capped nipples and he eagerly sucked upon them with sheer delight. The other sisters seeing that Stacey had started without them each stood up and came over to their new conquest.

Tracey, Sharon, Giselle and Mercedes, each beautiful in their own right but each wonderfully unique began to share this new found wonder and took to caressing and exploring his body. Each of the nymphs took care of a different part of his body, leaving not an inch of flesh untouched. Erysichton was in Elysium, he lay back upon the warm bed and allowed the quintet to enjoy him, as he lay their stunned with his hands reaching up to heaven. The wild beings sucked and bit his flesh with such tenderness that Erysichton could hold back no longer, he unleashed his passion with a mighty spasm, drenching Mercedes in the process.

Only now did it become evident what the gypsy had meant, as Erysichton’s cock did not flop to his side as it should have done but instead swelled to a greater size. Not only was Erysichton surprised by this but so were the sirens who eagerly dived upon and devoured this new, bigger piece of meat. Mercedes sat to the side while Sharon and Stacey cleaned her face. Tracey and Giselle were mesmerised now, Erysichton had regained his sense as adrenalin coursed through his veins. It was Giselle who spoke first, and what she said even a fool could understand.

“Fuck me, fuck me, I want you to fuck me, I’m begging you to fuck me.” She implored.

Of course he decided to fuck her. As exhausted as he was by now, he really had no choice in the matter. So begrudgingly he now went about the task of fucking the female. O how life doth pain him. He rubbed the length of his shaft to make sure it was up to the job, which of course it was and was as hard as a length of steel pipe. He pulled the girl to her knees and turned her so that her ass was to him. He fondled her tits a little and rolled an erect nipple between thumb and forefinger, just to prolong the agony. And then the moment she was begging for - he plunged balls deep into her cunt with one stroke and bottom out so hard that she loses all balance and falls on her tits. His cock was still embedded in her pussy, but now not right to the hilt so he leaned forward and rested himself on her back, all the while stroking that wonderful ass of hers. He now instructed one of the sisters to come over and see him for a minute. She came over and he hit her straight in the lips with a powerful, loving, yet painfully erotic deep kiss. His tongue dove into her mouth and quite accidentally the rhythmic movements of his fucking matched the movement of his tongue. He opened his eyes now to see Tracey utterly engrossed in sexual ecstasy as she had one hand grasping his hair and one hand fingering her crotch.

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