“Aren't you even going to say 'hello'?” I heard a deep, resonant voice ask over my shoulder as I was leaving Gold's Gym in Venice. Since I didn't live in Los Angeles and I had only been visiting a few days, it was doubtful I was snubbing anyone I knew.
When I turned, I was eye to swollen pectorals with a giant of a man that I could be certain I had never seen before. No one could ever forget him. He was easily six foot six and almost 300 pounds. He had straight, shiny jet-black hair, a devilishly pointed goatee, and pale green eyes. The dark hair continued over chest, thick, but flat and straight, apparent even through his white tank, and on the tops of his thick, solid forearms.
“Do I know you?” I asked to be polite.
“No, but you will be spending a lot of time with me.”
An extremely cocky pickup line, I thought, but a pickup from a man as sexy as him was what I had fantasized about when I made my Los Angeles vacation plans. I was crazy to be suspicious, crazy to even hesitate. I'd been into muscle men like him since I was three years old and my father read super-hero comics to me. Even before adolescence the thought of them gave me a boner. “Artaxerxes,” he said, extending a large muscular hand that was marbled with thick blue veins. It grasped mine t ightly.
“My name is Artaxerxes. Try Art. It'll be easier for you to p ronounce.”
“Dillon,” I replied, shaking his hand. With a name like that he must be Greek, I figured, but still, what a name!
“What are we waiting for, Dillon? I'm sure you want to get me out of these clothes as badly as I want out of them.”
Inside the door of my nearby motel room, he shucked his tank, revealing the most solid, chiseled upper body I had ever seen, which tapered to a tight, waspish waist. With his fingers, he combed the thick tuft of black chest hair between his bulging pecs.
I hadn't even recovered my wits from this sight before he slipped out of his sweat pants and shocked me with a dick so long it dangled near his knees. He straddled the desk chair backwards, dangling his dick through the chair back stiles and said, deeply, calmly, “I need you to suck it.”
It nearly grazed the floor it was so long. I knelt in front of him and licked it with my tongue to arouse him.
“Don't bother with that. Just put it in your mouth and suck,” he said.
It was still soft. I bent it up, put the head in my mouth and sucked. I was immediately rewarded with a steady flow of thick warm fluid, sweet like cream and immensely pleasing to the tongue.
“Ahhhhhh,” Art exhaled contentedly, like a man taking a much-needed piss. “That's marvelous. Keep it up.”
He didn't need to tell me that. Suckling a twenty inch dick, even a soft, rubbery one, made the blood pound in my head and my cock as hard as steel. I slipped my free hand inside my gym shorts and jerked it as I continued drinking.
Art chuckled. “I thought you might enjoy this as much as I do.” He ran his thick fingers through the hair on my head affectionately.
I tensed and squirted on the floor at his feet, but kept sucking, and he kept feeding me fluid for several more minutes. Finally the volume tapered off. I sucked harder, pulling him deeper inside, to the back of my throat. The last dribbles oozed out and Art stood, pulling himself from my mouth.
“I needed that even more than you did,” he said.
He helped me to my feet. I was dazed from cumming and feeling incredibly content from my long liquid dinner. He tugged my t-shirt over my head, helped me step out of my shorts. Then he pulled back the covers of the motel bed and climbed in after me.
“You must be sleepy. I know I always am after a meal that big. Lie down awhile.”
Content with the feeling of his firm body behind me and his solid arms around me, I fell deeply asleep, until hours later when Art nudged me awake. He twisted me around to face him. His cock jutted up between us, fully hard. The broad, blunt head bumped into my chin.
“I've afraid I need some relief again,” he said. I engulfed his dick head with my mouth and suckled. Again I was rewarded with a thick flow of sweet fluid and an appreciative groan from Art's lips. After a few minutes he softened, but the flow continued much longer.
When it stopped, he turned away from me and fell back asleep. I was left awake, alone and very horny from taking his cock in my mouth. His broad, solid back and hard round glutes only made it more difficult to calm myself down. I slid my forefinger down his spine, between his ass cheeks to bottom of his ass. I wanted to explore his hole with my fingers and spread it wide to make way for my dick. I didn't care what he wanted. I didn't care if he woke up. He was the reason I needed relief.
Imagine my shock—besides my disappointment—there was nothing there! He had no anus!
My probing fingers woke him.
“You're probably wondering what I am,” he said to me in the dark.
“What are you?”
“I'm a Halifax.”
“A Halifax. Never mind trying to remember something I know you haven't heard of. We were expunged from myths centuries ago. Halifax feed the gods. What you have been drinking is nectar.”
“You're a Greek god?!”
“A demi-god, actually, like satyrs and nymphs. The gods created us to sustain them. Nectar is a waste product for us. The Christians thought the act of drinking it was the most obscene thing on earth and wiped us from your history. Never mind that most of the time it's not the least bit sexual, the necessities of the act made a lot of human scholars squeamish in the Christian era. You see, we can't get rid of the nectar ourselves, like your people do with your waste. We need it to be sucked from us, by design of the gods themselves. They wanted to make sure they didn't lose a drop. The nectar not only tastes good, it keeps the gods alive. It replenishes their power.”
“What does it do to humans?” I asked. My imagination was running wild. My expectations regarding his reply had my boner throbbing.
“I'd say you're feeling a bit of its effects already,” he said. Art dove under the sheets and swallowed me whole. He sucked hard and slowly slide his lips up my dick. My heart pounded in my head like I'd just inhaled a bottle full of poppers and a river of cum poured out of my shivering dick. Art reciprocally swallowed the whole load.
My heartbeat dropped. I breathed deeply again and began to relax.
“What are you doing here on earth with me?”
“I think we're rather good for each other? Don't you? You're worried about how to explain me aren't you? To your mother or your friends? Why are we together? What do we have in common? I know about your culture. It's not all that much different than the Greek's. Really, what do you care what people think. Mostly they'll be thinking you're just about the luckiest damned queer on the face of the mother Gaea and they'll be too fucking crazy with envy to wonder what makes us work.”
What he said made some sense. Still, no matter how sexually fulfilling this relationship could me, I had always expected more. I had always wanted to really love the man I lived with, and I wanted him to really love me. This was just a marriage of convenience.
“The truth is I just couldn't take another millennia of the politics in Zeus' court. I needed to get away for a while—maybe for good. Obviously I need someone to relieve me. Who better for that than a gay man? And listen, we've got bigger problems to worry about. I'm getting really hungry, and a Halifax has a hell of an appetite.”
The size of his appetite was only the beginning of the problem. The real difficulty was what he needed to do to satisfy it. I tried taking him to a supermarket, but he wouldn't hear of “eating things in boxes and bags that had been dead for weeks”. He had to have fresh meat. Preferably still steaming when his teeth tore into it. He refused to eat farm animals. He wanted “free range”, which was just as well, because I didn't relish the thought of being caught over a half eaten cattle carcass out in the country somewhere by an angry farmer with a gun.
We drove out of Los Angeles quite a ways, deep in the countryside. I parked the car and we took a hike in the woods. Art started sniffing. Near a cave he discovered a thousand pound black bear. Art leapt on him from behind. They wrestled. In a matter of minutes the bear's neck was broken and Art was having his meal. I took a long walk. It's not that I'm too squeamish to admit to myself that even the food I eat is taken in violence, but a really hungry Halifax's table manners aren't pleasant.
When I returned there was nothing left of the bear but the head, a few internal organs, and the claws. Art was basking naked in the sun on a rock. Remarkably, his tight tummy was only slightly distended, even after consuming a creature more than three times his weight. He fell asleep in the car on the way back to the motel. I practically had to carry him up to our room on the second floor. I must have already been getting stronger or I don't know how I could have done it.
He slept for several days after that. I had to extend my vacation. While he slept I began to notice some of the nonsexual effects of my two meals of nectar. My best bench used to be 250. Never mind that that was years ago when I had been more devoted to my workouts, suddenly it was way over 300. I lost several inches from around my waist, which began to look as ripped as Art's. And I felt more energetic than I ever have in my life.
When Art woke up it was lucky I was in the room. He was screaming like a woman in labor, ready to burst from the digestion of his huge meal. He rammed my head into his dick and buried it halfway down my throat. As soon as it touched the inside of my mouth, the nectar began to drain. I was drinking it for hours, way more of it than I ever thought I would be able to hold down. When it stopped, I was as drowsy as he had been after eating the bear. We both feel soundly asleep.
For several days the only waking moments for me were the sessions draining his dick. At first they were only a few hours apart. Then they began to taper off in frequency, but not urgency. Art kept the curtains drawn, so I wasn't even aware of the passage of days. Most of the time he was there, sleeping with me, but when I woke he was sitting in the chair across the room watching me. I could swear his eyes had a softer expression than before, almost a look of adoration.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Like I've slept for centuries, and like I could go a few rounds with a bear myself.”
“I think you probably could,” he said calmly.
My eyes focused on my reflection in the dresser mirror across from the bed. I almost swallowed my tongue. The most muscular creature on the planet gawked back at me from under heavy deep-set brows. I was bigger than Art, bigger than any bodybuilder, as big as an outrageously exaggerated pornographic comic book hero. My arms were thicker than my head.
Art stood and helped me to my feet. I was still the same height, but height was the only thing about my physique that hadn't changed!
“When did this happen?”
“Slowly, while you were sleeping. I thought it was going to stop days ago, but even though you've gotten bigger than I thought possible, I think the overall effect is still very pleasing.” I did a most muscular as watched the heads of my deltoids swell until each of my shoulders dwarfed my skull. I did a double biceps and felt swelling in my groin. The sight of myself had me hard, and that part of me was prodigious as well. I was nowhere as big as Art, thank gods, but I had a thickness and heft that was more than proportionate to the rest of me.
Art smiled like a painter admiring his masterpiece. His gargantuan body, now slim in comparison to mine, dropped to its knees and he drew the length of me down into his throat past wide stretched lips to the furry root till his chin was nestled between the orbs of my huge round balls.
I was gratified beyond belief.
Perhaps because oral gratification is so important to a Halifax, no one can give oral pleasure as well as one. I can't even imagine what went on inside the mouth and the throat of my divine lover. The technique was not only beyond my mortal abilities to replicate, they were beyond mortal understanding. Without haste or hurry, he gave me hours of oral pleasure. He was so good I didn't care if I ever came. In fact I didn't want to. A couple times I felt tears in my eyes, I was so moved with joy.
And then I felt the tip of his hard spear grazing the underside of my scrotum. I lovingly massaged the top of it. We stepped backward slowly and lay down on the bed. Art rotated around. We lay on our sides and slowly I began to swallow his impossibly long shlong. Occasionally he tenderly pulled my head in closer to his groin, encouraging me to take more of it. Or he lovingly massaged my neck with a free hand, as though to relax it to take more of him inside me. This time there was no nectar. This time we were both making love. There was nothing I could do for him that could compare with what he was doing for me, but I was eager to try. Once I had as much of him in me as I could fit, I bobbed my head slowly and slurped what I could manage, but what seemed to give both of us the most pleasure was simply holding him as deeply inside me as I could manage, while he enthusiastically fellated me. Once, while he had me rocking in ecstasy, his long man-meat stiffened like steel and the head of it swelled like a balloon. I backed off a bit to catch his cum in my mouth. It was different than the nectar. It was bitter, pungent, and potent, like a shot of whiskey in the gut. Like alcohol, it made me light headed, euphoric. It amplified the euphoric sensations in my groin until I could no longer take his attentions. My foot long cock got as heavy and hard as a stone and a fountain of cum gushed through it into Art's throat. When the cum stopped gushing, he fell away from me. He lifted his limp dick to my lips and I suckled him dry again.
We fell asleep gripping each other tightly, two men as hard and heavy as a collection of rocks and boulders, skin as hot as lava.
The sun seemed to come suddenly the next morning, like a blinding flash of light that penetrated the drawn curtains. The bed seemed as hard and cold as marble. I struggled to open my eyes. We were not in bed. We were not in my motel room. We were not on earth. We were on Mt. Olympus. We were surrounded by a court of standing gods and goddesses, who looked down at us with disgust and disdain.
A voice like the rumbling of thunderclouds spoke.
“Artaxerxes. Stand and be punished.”
Art was up before I could crawl to my knees, standing sober-faced, at attention.
“It is forbidden for a Halifax to leave Mt. Olympus and consort with a mortal. My judgment will be most painful.”
“Wait,” I said. I was sure if it was the extra 150 pounds of muscle I'd added that emboldened me, or my new feelings for Art. “Doesn't he even get a trial?”
Another god, Apollo, I presumed, because his face was as brilliant and beautiful as the sun, spoke. “Humans have trials to be sure they have all the facts. The facts are not in doubt here. I saw Artaxerxes on the earth in your company for many days as I passed overhead in the sky. Do you deny that you were found asleep in each other's arms?”
“No,” I answered.
“Artaxerxes, what have you to say?” Zeus asked.
“I cannot deny that I have been in the company of this human. I also cannot deny that I have fallen in love with him and cannot bear to be separated from him. If you must punish me, then kill me. Leaving me alive without him would be too harsh a penalty for what I have done.”
My eyes blinked and grew big. I thought that Art had grown fond of me, but I never expected his feelings were so strong.
“You love a mortal?” Zeus said, incredulously.
“Have you, my lord, not loved many mortals yourself?” Artaxerxes said. “Your impertinence will only make your punishment more grave. There is the physical act of love and then there is love itself. The one is not the other.”
Another god spoke. “Do you, mortal, love Artaxerxes?” He was more stunningly handsome than all the rest. He stood taller, moved with more grace.
“I—I do.” I was almost sure I would be stricken by lightening, not just because I was standing in front of Zeus, but because the admission of my love seemed at least premature if not opportunistic.
“Then I move that Artaxerxes be forgiven for his behavior and allowed to leave Mt. Olympus to live with the mortal,” the handsome, blond god said.
“Eros, you may consider love the highest of all virtues, but the rest of us hold other values at least as highly. Artaxerxes has a duty to the gods,” a broad, muscular god who wore only a battle helmet and loincloth spoke. He was incredibly hairy and had many scars on his body. He must have been Ares, god of war.
“Agreed, Ares,” Zeus said. “Yet, perhaps I would relax my punishment if what these two profess is true. I rule that their love be tested. Aphrodite take Artaxerxes. Eros take his mortal. We will reconvene when their trial is complete.”
I was not feeling at all well about the situation. Art's fate rested in the veracity of my supposed love, and I wasn't feeling all that sure of it myself.
I blinked and when I opened my eyes the gods and Mt. Olympus were gone. I was in a forest of great, ancient trees, as thick and tall as redwoods. I walked a ways and heard laughter. Then I saw a group of manlike creatures near the mouth of a cave playing with each other. There were six of them, each as handsome and seductive as his playmates. One was a tall, thin, black man with long fat dick and an equally broad smile. He had every reason to be smiling. Two youngish ones, not far out of their teens knelt at his feet and slide their kissing mouths in unison along either side of his enormous cock. The young ones were well muscled. One was hairy, the other smooth. They were as lost in each other's lips as the taste of the black man's cock. Two other men were lost in anal intercourse. The one fucking was pounding his lover with fierce, short strokes. His lover's mouth was slack with pleasure and his eyes closed as he played with his own dick. The sixth had been sitting on a rock watching them all and stroking himself. He was a stocky, swarthy middle easterner with a day's growth of beard stubble and thick hair in thatches at his sternum, his forearms, his legs and his groin. His physique was almost my equal and his dick was more than a match for mine. When he heard my footsteps he stood, called to the others and dismounted the rock and walked toward me.
“Ho, men, we have a new addition!” he said.
None of the others even paid attention.
He shook my hand. Our dicks were so long that they bobbed and brushed against each other even as we stood at two arms length.
“Welcome,” he said.
“Where am I?” I asked.
“The forest of Paroxys,” he said. “Where all the satyrs l ive.”
“You weren't told? No matter. You will be quite happy with your new life. Satyrs always are.”
He wrapped his thick, muscular hand ever so lightly around my spear of a dick and gently, slowly twisted it. I shuddered and precum dribbled out of me. Now I understood my test.
“No,” I shouted, and I brushed him away. My dick bounced as his hand passed over it.
“No? I only want to give you pleasure.” His eyes lit and his smile unveiled a set of perfect white teeth like pearls behind thick passionate lips. “I can assure you, no one gives pleasure as sweet or as intense as a satyr, and it's plain that you are aroused.”
“But I can't do this. I love someone else.”
“We all love others, sometimes all together, sometimes in sequence.”
“But I love someone else exclusively.”
“I have heard of such things, though I can't say I understand the concept. Look at my friends over there. Is your one love more handsome than any of us? How can you resist the promise of so much happiness?” As he spoke the fucking pair slowed their pace. The one fucking from behind pulled himself slowly out and out and out. There was nearly two feet between his groin and his lover's ass and still more of him was coming out. My breath grew short and shallow and my cock stood straight up. The thought of having such a beast buried so deeply inside of someone had me crazed. His lover let out a cry of anguished joy as a head twice as thick as the shaft came loose from his ass. Then all three feet of his cock buried itself deep down inside again.
My swarthy tempter's palm was pressed against my penis, and pressed it gently against my chest. Teardrops formed in the corners of my eyes as I thought of Art and the fate that awaited him if I failed, but this time I didn't have the strength to brush him away.
“I see you have your eyes on Rheaimo. He is quite fantastic is he not? When he is through with the other, I know he'll enjoy fucking you.”
But my desires betrayed me as blatantly as they were about to betray Art. Precum spurted from my dick and splashed on the hand that caressed it.
“Or perhaps you'd like to swallow it, take it completely down your throat and squeeze it inside. You're capable of that now. All satyrs are.”
He bent my painfully engorged cock down, parallel to the ground. He touched the heads of our cocks together and I noticed that he was uncircumcised.
The two young satyrs were fallating the black satyr now. Only they didn't have to share a cock anymore. He had sprouted a second one beside the first, and each of them was sucking furiously on their own. The satyr with two dicks looked like he was about to cum. One of his blond lovers backed off and let the cum fly straight up in the air, but the other dick wasn't ready to cum yet.
“Like what you see? You can enjoy the same pleasure on either end. A satyr can grow as many dicks as he wants, as big as he wants. We are only limited by our imagination.”
My tempter pulled at his foreskin and drew it past the head of his dick and well over the head of mine.
The black satyr backed out of his blond friends' mouths. The first obediently turned and touched his toes. The second bent over him. Cumming hadn't diminished the size of either of the black satyr's cocks. He grabbed each dick with a hand and rearranged them so they were stacked on top of each other. Then he speared both asses. His abdominals and serratus rippled as he swung his hips and fucked them.
My tempter stretched his foreskin further, beyond the corona of my cock head, inch by inch along my dick. The top of my cock was now enveloped in a warm sheath of foreskin that he rubbed along my cock as he masturbated me. Now the precum was oozing so frequently from my dick that the inside of his foreskin was wet, hot and slick. He stretched his foreskin further and further until it completely enveloped my dick. With both his broad, powerful hands he twisted and squeezed my dick inside of it until drool dribbled out of my open mouth. He kissed and sucked my thickly muscled neck with his sensuous lips. I was sobbing now, in pleasure and in sorrow.
“Forget your lost lover,” he said to me. “You're one of us now.”
At last my resistance was exhausted. My cock swelled inside his silky foreskin and cum shot out of me like shells from a rifle. His lips planted on mine and I kissed him back, passionately, sucking his firm tongue into my throat as tears streamed down my face.
Soaked with cum and limp as a rag I lay on the marble floors of Mt. Olympus at the foot of the gods, defeated, ashamed. Artaxerxes was on the floor beside me, red-faced and crying.
“Your judgment, Eros,” Zeus asked.
“I find the truth of his love for the Halifax to be beyond doubt, Lord Zeus.”
I couldn't have been more shocked.
“His body succumbed to my temptation, but his heart never once w avered.”
“Aphrodite?” Zeus asked.
“Artaxerxes love is just as true.”
“Then I am convinced by Eros argument. Artaxerxes' sentence is suspended. But he will be confined to Mt. Olympus all the same.”
“My Lord, how can that not be the greatest punishment of all, to live here as he did before, without the love of his friend?” Eros asked.
“Because his friend shall live here with him. But mind that he must share the prodigious volume of nectar that Artaxerxes produces with the rest of us.” He looked me in the eye for the first time. “You understand my judgment, mortal? If you will save this Halifax, you must sacrifice the life you have made on mother Gaea and live here, not as one of us, but among us just the same. Mind you stay out of our way and don't ask too many questions. If we'd wanted you to know anything about us, we would have sought you out before now.”
Nothing can be as intimidating as the eyes of a god, even if he's not the one you grew up with in Sunday school. I nodded back at him and mumbled my acceptance. What else could I say? You don't negotiate with a god.
When Artaxerxes and I were alone he laughed and slapped my back hard.
“We sure fooled them, didn't we?”
I swallowed. “You didn't mean what you said?”
“Don't misunderstand me, Dillon. You're pleasing to the eye and delightful to my touch, but I just met you a few days ago. I've been alive for millennia. But don't worry. No one will find out. Aphrodite and Eros are allies of mine. I don't expect fidelity from you, and I understand you were quite a hit with the Satyrs.”
All I could think of was what I had lost: my friends and family on earth; my hopes and dreams, including the one of a man who loved me more than all others.
“Don't look so sad, my love. I haven't said I won't love you, just that I need time. And now we both have eternity.” Art clasped my shoulders, and we locked lips. My dick became heavy with blood again and I decided he might be right.