Cupid's Big Break

She turned and saw the small blue vine that trailed along the short stubby length of Cupid's leg. "Dammit, I forgot to warn you about those." She pulled it gently away, as the viney feeler released Cupid's cock and slithered back out the leg opening. When it was completely out, she gave it a small nudge with her sandal-clad foot and it disappeared back into the red soil.

"What was that thing?" Cupid asked, letting his knees completely give and sinking towards the ground.

Hope caught him before he could hit. "NO! Those feed the Love. It lives off pure human pleasure, which is why the Islanders here don't have problems staying." She pointed to the dozens of blue shoots of the plants that just peeped from the ground. "I've seen the Island men go into the jungle and come back days later, totally drained, sometimes almost dead, but always smiling. Those things are used to their much greater capacity for pleasure, Cupid. They'd kill you."

Cupid glanced down at the plants, patiently waiting for their next chance to feed off of his pleasure. "Yeah, but what a way to go."

She pulled her outer robe off, draping it over a bunch of vines, and leaving her clad in only the shimmery under robe. It clung to the curves of Hope's angelic body, the sweat-dampened material almost sheer in places. Cupid couldn't help but stare at the sheath of silk which left nothing to his imagination. He could even see the ripe red tips of her breasts and the dusky shadow between her thighs. Hope didn't seem to notice her lack of attire or his attention to the clingy material.

"Come on, let's go." She pushed through the vines ahead. Behind her, the blue vines came from the ground, searching hungrily for the source of the pheromones that were filling the air. They caught the edge of the robes in their tiny blue vice-like feelers and pulled it to the ground, swarming over it in a hungry and animalistic manner so different from their normal gentle urges. Soon the robe was ripped into nothing more than sweaty shreds, and the blue vines receded back into the ground.

Another fifty yards, and the vines started to become more sparse as a vast clearing appeared in the middle of the jungle. In the very center was a huge red flower, its petals wilted and black at the edges. It lay upon the ground, its center open to the bright afternoon sun. In the center of the flower were two huge balls, attached to the stamen.

Hope gasped at seeing the condition of the plant. Horror had tears streaking down her dirty face. "Oh, my, Love. Look at your balls."

"What?" Cupid asked, looking down at his diaper. "They actually feel better than they have in years." He glanced at her face, then followed her gaze to the plant. "Oh, yeah, those do look sore. What's wrong, root rot?"

"No, those are Love's pollen containers. The women of the village have to stimulate those balls and then they let loose the pollen into the air. That pollen is what spreads Love. If the women aren't stimulating them then the Love can't empty its balls." She scratched her head for a moment, thinking. "But, just not stimulating the balls wouldn't cause the wilting to the outer leaves. They also must have stopped feeding Love."

She took a cautious step forward and one of the heavily engorged feelers fell over with a thump. Love let out a moan that sounded so pain-filled Cupid could feel it deep inside himself. "We need to do something for it," he said. "Can't we gather some of the pollen, give Love some relief?"

"You can't," Hope said, pushing her hair behind her shoulders with a quick flip of her wrists. "But I can. Men can't touch Love's pollen. It has disastrous effects on their hormonal balances." After removing her sandals, she carefully made her way through the quivering folds of petals, feeling their silken dampness under her bare feet. The petals felt fleshy, almost heavy, against her skin, and had a fine layer of what looked and felt like hair the closer she got to the center.

Reaching one of the feelers, she crouched down, the petals rising slowly around her to touch the skin of her legs with their softness. She touched the long silky shaft above the round bulge, using both of her hands to caress it's length.

"I feel like I'm wanking some guy off," she said sarcastically as her hands moved back and forth along the feeler, working up a sweet friction that sent a fine trembling through the petals that now caressed her hips. A low groan, long and sighing, swept through the huge plant, and a tiny puff of pink erupted from the tip of the anther.

"Wanking?" Cupid called, watching as the lovely girl captured in her hands, and used as a lubricant, some of the pink dust and the clear liquid that ran from Love. "What's wanking?" he asked, even as he felt that same strange tingle in his diaper. He looked down and saw a tented bulge in the front and felt a strange longing to strip off his grimy covering and let Hope do to him what she was doing to Love.

"You don't know about wanking? How can the god of love know nothing of wanking?" She sighed and worked the feeler harder, feeling Love moving against her faster. She just hoped she was doing this right.

"So what is it?" Cupid felt his breathing get faster as he watched Hope. Her robe grew almost transparent in the heat of the day and with the sweat of her exertions. Her hair grew damp and she pushed it back from her face, leaving a stray streak of pink to weave its way through the black curls. Her eyes grew heavy from her own excitement, the petals of Love slowly working their way between her legs and up her body.

"Wanking, you know, beating off?" At his look of confusion, she tried again. "Slammin' the salami, doodling your noodle? Decongesting the weasel? Masturbation?"

He shook his head at her, getting mad that she wouldn't explain it to him.

"God! Cupid, how can you expect to deal with love and marriage and know absolutely nothing about sex. Self-gratification, you know, bringing yourself to an orgasm."

"What do sex and orgasms have to do with marriage?" Cupid asked, still confused.

Hope was saved from answering by Love shaking under her as if it were dying. She knew what was coming and turned her head, feeling the long thin stamen-like feeler grow ever tenser in her stroking hands.

Suddenly, it let out a bellow and a huge cloud of pink dust spewed from its opening followed quickly by a geyser of clear liquid. It covered Hope from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet in its silky thickness.

Cupid couldn't believe the sight. Love's petals were convulsing tremulously around Hope as she continued to stroke the feeler. Her hands had changed though, no longer caressing, but almost as if she were milking Love of the last of its fluids. The dust settled over Hope, sticking to the thick liquid that covered her and giving her a pink sheen.

"What was that?" Cupid asked, awe struck.

"That spew would be what you do-gooders call love."

Cupid spun, seeing two men standing behind him. He'd been so enthralled watching Hope, he hadn't heard their approach.

"Well lookee here," said the taller of the two men, both of whom were dressed in something you'd see out of a forties gangster movie, complete with spats on their shoes. He took a few steps forward as he looked over the two heaven sent ones. "I think the little freak in the diaper is sporting a woody."

Cupid glanced down and felt himself blush, cursing his naturally fair skin that would show every red inch.

Hope moved from the center of Love and went to stand next to Cupid, glancing down herself before she could help it.

"Who are you two?" the flustered cherub said, his wings beating frantically in his anger.

"We've come to give you a special invitation from a very important personage. I don't think you'll be able to resist."

The short man, who stood only a few inches taller than Hope, clicked his heels together as he spoke and shoved his hand between the buttons of his spotless white shirt. "You must come with us," he said importantly. "and right now, or you shall meet your Waterloo."

"I need to get to the ocean," Hope hissed at Cupid. "I need to wash this off in the salt water so that it can flow out to the people."

Cupid held his tiny bow in his hand and concentrated. Instantly a small red tipped arrow appeared, already notched against the bow string. He held it to the side, carefully keeping the arrow from rattling as his little hands shook. He was a lover, not a fighter. How could God expect this of him?

"I'm going to shoot the small one. You run, okay?"

Hope stared down at the brave little cherub. Her eyes were deep set and beautiful, surrounded by lashes liberally coated in pink. A tear threatened. "They'll hurt you, Cupid."

He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the two men who seem to grow bigger and more threatening by the second. "Love is all there is, Hope. It has to go on."

She clasped her hands under her bosom in the classic pose of impressed maiden, grimacing just a little as they stuck in the muck covering her. "You're my hero," she whispered fervently.

"Ready," he hissed out of the side of his mouth. "GO!" he yelled, whipping up the small bow and pulling the string in one fast move. He saw Hope out of the corner of her eye as she zipped around the side of the man who had been heading her way, dodging past his outstretched arm with a grace he didn't know she possessed. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't afford to turn and watch her as he sighted carefully on his own target.

The string of the bow barely kissed his lips before he released it, sending the arrow flying towards the smaller man. It hit him in the side, puncturing deeply as Cupid's arrows were supposed to do. Love bites deep, digs in, and takes hold. It was the only way for true love to flourish. He watched the man howl in rage and pain, drop to the ground and saw, with horror, how his arrow, that was now sticking out of the man, turned a deep black and then burst into flames.

He lay there, writhing, and screaming words Cupid had never heard coming from his mouth. "Tu es fou!? You shot me! Fils de pute!!"

Cupid tried to concentrate enough to gather another arrow to shoot at the man who was now chasing Hope, but his nerves were fading fast. He searched the ground for a rock and then turned, hearing Napoleon screaming again. His eyes widened in horror as he watched the blue vines pulling at the small man's clothes.

" Enculeur de porcs," he shrieked. "Get them off, get them off!"

Two of the vines slipped under and started their dance against his flesh. He groaned and moaned, his body arching and convulsing against both the effects of the arrow that was now sending pure love through his veins and the vines which were stimulating the little soldier of the Little Corporal.

Cupid turned again at a shriek, this time feminine. He watched in horror as Hope, struggling in the arms of her captor, slipped. Her slick body was thrown from his arms and she stumbled, screaming, as she fell off the edge of the cliff.

Cupid's heart, if he'd had one, would have stopped beating as he hurried toward the edge of the cliff. He thought he saw a hint of white shimmer, and then a wave swept up and over it, crashing against the rocks, and it was gone.

Hope, the girl he'd just started to respect and care about, was gone. He turned murderous eyes upon the man still on his feet, seeing him trying to fling the Love pollen off of his hands with a disgusted grimace.

"Eww," he said, his face screwed up. "This shit won't come off." He wiped it against a tree branch, the rough wood catching some of the viscous liquid in its nooks and crannies. As soon as he walked away, the tree absorbed the thick substance and small green shoots pushed through the bark. Tiny heart shaped flowers formed, spreading around the girth of the tree.

Cupid felt himself grabbed, the hand rough and grasping on his tiny wing, crushing the feathers that had already seen better days. "Hey," he yelled. "Easy on the merchandise, buddy. These things aren't cheap, you know." He was hauled, kicking and screaming, to where the tiny man lay on the ground, his eyes rolling back in his head. Weird half keening cries came from between his open lips and his breath stuttered noisily. The front of his pants bulged and twisted, moving as if there were a den of snakes inside the dark gray material.

The man holding Cupid nudged the man on the ground with his foot. "Get up, Boney. Come on, get off your arse."

"Non, non, un moment," he begged, his voice high pitched as his hips began to jerk.

Cupid saw the movements increase, the base of the plants start shaking, and watched in amazement as it seemed as if they were drinking the fluids coming from the downed man's body. But only for an instant before the man holding him knocked them aside and hauled Boney from the ground.

He fought for a second, his breathing erratic. "Non, that was... c'est fantastique, c'est magnifique, c'etait incroyable." He stood, shaking, and looking down as the blue vines curled back into the red soil.

"Stop your babbling, speak English. You know I don't understand any of that frog crap. And behave, dammit. I'll tell the boss and he'll cut off your supply of snails."

Napoleon stood proudly and dusted the dirt from his back and legs. He jerked down the jacket of his suit with an impatient gesture and glared up at the man who stood so much taller than he did. "C'est escargot, vous l'idiot."

"Whatever." He reached out and touched the hole in the side of Napoleon's jacket, a small hole with charred edges. "Better not let the boss see that either, or he's gonna know you got stuck by Pampers over here."

Napoleon took off the jacket, shook it out twice, and then slid it back on. The hole was gone except for a vague outline in the gray that was just a hint off of the original color. Cupid squinted at it for a minute and then smiled inside when he saw the outline of a valentine heart in the fabric. His arrow would work on the man. Because of his evilness, it would just take some time.

They headed through the jungle on a path clear of vines, but along the edges, Cupid could see many of the twisting blue creepers trying to reach out to them. The closer to the village they got, the older and sicker the vines began to look.

"I recognize him," Cupid said to the man still holding his wing. "But who are you? And why are you here?"

The man hung his head for a moment and then sighed. "My name is Colin Murdoch. I am... or I was an inventor. I thought I was doing the world a good turn. Instead I became responsible for thousands of people losing their minds, getting sick or sicker, getting road rage."

Cupid was astonished. "What did you invent, a bomb, some kind of poison, a new chemical agent?"

"No," the inventor sighed. "I invented the child-proof bottle. I was poisoned by an old friend. He had a young girlfriend who left him."

"Why is that your fault?" Cupid asked.

"He couldn't get into his bottle of Viagra." He sighed. "Last year alone, I was responsible for over for 123,762 divorces when husbands couldn't get their bottles of Viagra open and their wives started having affairs with everyone from the postal carrier to the Culligan man."

"Oh my." Cupid looked at the nice man with the slightly hard to understand New Zealand accent. "And for that, you were poisoned. Does that mean you were damned?"

"Ye got that right."

Napoleon grabbed Colin's arm suddenly and hugged it. "Je t'aime," he said, rubbing up against it.

"Get off of me, you sick ass frog!" Colin brushed his arm off, pushing the little emperor back on the path a ways.

"M'excuser," Napoleon said, standing up right and brushing off his jacket. "I don't know what came over me." He bowed stiffly from the waist, clicking his heels together in a manner that almost belied the apology by its pompousness.

Colin rolled his eyes. "Just keep your hands to yourself." He hurried down the path, anxious now to get to the clearing and away from the pretentious frog that made his life a living... well, hell.

Cupid kept glancing behind him at Napoleon, noting the look in his eyes, the way he started watching Colin, his walk, most particularly his ass. The love-besotted emperor drew closer, only stepping back at threatening looks from the New Zealander. Once in a while, he'd let his hand rise until it almost touched the material of Colin's jacket.

Cupid was laughing inside.

The village was incredible, the buildings laid out in rounds that circled the big well in the middle. In front of the well, and leaning negligently against its stone wall, a man stood near a dais. Next to him were two beautiful people, a man and a woman, both dressed in skirts made of the same blue as the vines in the jungle. The woman wore a heavy beaded necklace that covered the tops and nipples of her breasts but left the sides and heavy rounded bottoms bare. Both had white- blonde hair, almost the same color as Cupid's wispy strands.

The woman's locks were long and straight, the man's shoulder length and tied back. Both wore red and blue tribal makeup, a triple slash of color across their cheeks, eyes heavily outlined in blue. They held hands as they stood nervously staring off into the jungle from the way Cupid's party had come. These must be the islanders responsible for Love. And they were being held captive.

He studied the leader and after only a few seconds, recognition hit him. This was Satan himself.

"Oh," he hissed quietly as he hurried forward. "God, what have you gotten me into?"

"What?" Colin asked.

"Nothing, pretty place, huh?"

"If you like pretty," Colin grumped. "I miss the screams and the flames myself." He flicked a flower as he went by, knocking it off the vine. Cupid turned just in time to see Napoleon pick up the flower, brush dirt off the bright petals and, after sniffing it, stash it inside his jacket pocket, all the while staring with love struck eyes at his fellow henchman.

"Cupid, so lovely to meet you." The lord of the underworld was all smiles and gladness as he came forward and shook the small cherub's hand. His white teeth glistened and were absolutely perfect.

Cupid was wary, knowing the devil's fondness for tricks and treachery. "Why are you here, Satan?"

Colin stepped forward, his hand raised as if to strike him. "You will address him as My Lord."

Satan stopped him with nothing more than a look. "Thank you so much, Colin, but Cupid is a special visitor and an emissary from my esteemed colleague. He is to be treated with more respect." He gave him another of those too perfect smiles and Cupid felt his nerves go from on alert to almost over the edge. There was something about those teeth...

"Shall we go for a walk, Cupid?" Satan held his hand out, directing him towards the other side of the village, an area that was deserted except for a small table with two chairs. A lovely patio umbrella in muted greens and blues shaded the table from the afternoon sun. A pitcher of icy tea sat there, moisture dewed on its side from condensation.

Cupid strolled along, his attitude one of nonchalance in the face of the greatest of all evils himself. Inside though, he was as scared as an angel could be. He worked hard at controlling the fear, repeating over and over that a son of Venus had nothing to fear of sin. Love was the greatest of all goods.

Satan held out one of the comfortable chairs and Cupid flew lightly into it, leaning back as if he had not a care in the world. He glanced around at the village, trying to get a detailed idea of what was going on before he talked to king imp.

"I know you want to know why I am here, and why I am slowly killing Love." Satan poured two glasses of the tea, setting his aside.

"Well, you're evil." Cupid shrugged his shoulders as if to say that was reason enough. He stared at the glass, distrust in his eyes.