Pleasing the Gods

Chapter 1: The Climb

Heraclitus is a simple man, born into the blacksmith trade like his father, and his father before him. His flimsy, damaged sandals and his pale, red robe indicate to all what class he belongs to. As he moves hurriedly up this mountainside path, he remains low and cautious, like a beast stalking its prey. As he glances back, he can see the grand city of Thêbai in the distance.

Wiping sweat from his brow and scratching the itchy stubble growing on his chin; he takes a brief moment to appreciate just how far he has trekked. Catching his breath, he decides to move on, hoping to reach the top sooner rather than later.
The loose dirt beneath his feet makes silent moving an impossible task, and the broken buckle on his left sandal has already caused him to fall three or four times. He darts forward, determined to conquer this part of the mountain, his tied back hair bouncing against his spine with each hurried step.

The midday sun beats down upon Heraclitus, and the dryness of his mouth causes his mind to flood with images of water and fantasies of rivers. Only a fool doesn't bring supplies on such an expedition, but it had all been rather impromptu; a spontaneous, spur of the moment decision that had started with the chance sighing of a blue-robed maiden. Only the Gods could have guided him along such a journey, at least that's what he tells himself.

The path he is on leads to the Temple of Hera, a small and rather hidden temple that few people journey to, and luckily for him, it sits next to a small waterfall. A gift from Hera herself to all those willing to pay her tribute and offer her sacrifice. Men aren't permitted at this site, but he's willing to take that chance, and he'll have no choice but to plunge his face into the stream to quench his aching thirst, if he makes it that is.

Heraclitus continues his climb, and as he curves around a monolith, he spots his 'prey' further along the path. Her blue robe is unmissable among the greens and reds of the surrounding environment. Crouching behind a boulder, he watches her follow the same path he is on. Even from this distance, her figure is seductive and her walk alluring. Each step making her hips dance from side to side like the hypnotic swinging of a pendulum.

As she makes it around the next bend, he reinitiates his pursuit, hoping that she doesn't get too far along before he catches up to her. Unfortunately, it seems that the Gods aren't entirely on the side of Heraclitus today as his sandal breaks once again and he finds himself sitting in the dirt with no option but to fix it.

Chapter 2: The Temple

Finally, out of breath and dripping in sweat, Heraclitus reaches the Temple of Hera. Walking along the small path that leads through the trees, their scent catching on the summer's breeze, he comes to an opening. The sound of running water sets the scene for this small temple: its two columns stand tall, once white but now stained green by nature, vines of ivy grip the structure, almost holding it in place so that the Gods can't blow it off the hill. The temple is built into the side of the mountain, of which they are only at the top of a small section of, and yet the city of Thêbai still seems tiny from here. The people, who would seem smaller than ants, aren't perceivable to the naked eye.

As he approaches the temple, Heraclitus is distracted by the sound of splashing water from nearby. A small pool gathers to the side of the structure, just slightly out of sight from his position, and he's suddenly reminded of his thirst, as well as the reason why he is here at all. He crouches down, using the temple as cover, and slowly edges towards a viewing point.

Peering around the corner, he feels that his luck has truly changed. Bathing in the pond is the very woman he was following, her robe and footwear sitting at the waterside next to a small tub. As she moves beneath the waterfall, her brown hair is washed down her back, almost reaching her exposed, tight ass which peeks out of the water ever so slightly. Teasing the world with its toned eroticism.

She rinses every inch of her body, her hands gliding across her skin effortlessly as she washes the dust and dirt from her flesh. As she turns around, the water splashes against her breasts, her nipples stand in defiance of the waterfall, appearing like the rudders of mighty ships as they push against the resistance of the Aegean Sea. Her pale flesh glistening with each droplet of water that splashes off it. This woman is truly a daughter of Aphrodite, Goddess of love, beauty, pleasure, and passion.

Heraclitus stares longingly at this radiant beauty. Only in his dreams have his hands rubbed against her flesh, their bodies merging to become one. The Gods must have sent him here for a purpose, he reasons with himself, and so he unbuckles his sandals, desperate to be closer to this Goddess. Just as he's about to unbuckle his robe and let it drop the floor, the brown-haired water nymph climbs out of the pool, her entirety now exposed for all to see. He stands there, his jaw dropping to the floor as his eyes leave his skull.

Her flesh is completely bare, apart from the small bush of brown pubic hair that sparkles with droplets of water. Lifting her hands to her head, Heraclitus gazes in amazement as she ruffles her hair, letting all the droplets sprinkle across her slowly drying body, rainbows forming in the mist. Her body is a thing of true amazement: each part is toned and tight, truly reflective of her desire to please the Gods through climbing this path every single day.

Lifting the small pot that sits by her clothes, the woman stirs the blood-red substance held within, preparing to smear it across her naked flesh. Many speak of the ritual practices of the Cult of Hera, but no man has ever witnessed these rituals for himself. It's one of the reasons the temple is so far from Thêbai. Surely the Gods know that no path is too long or treacherous for any man if such a sight awaits him at its end.

She begins by marking her face, using just a fingertip to place red dots across her forehead and cheeks, surrounding the eyes like warpaint. Dipping two fingers back into the tub, she rubs them down her body in one long motion, all the way from her shoulder to her waist, stopping only to get more on her fingers before carrying on down to her toes. After copying the pattern on the other side of her body, she draws circles around her breasts: one large circle, and then a smaller one that borders her areola.

Heraclitus, now excited beyond what he believed possible, takes his robe off and drops it to the ground, cluttering the steps that lead inside the temple. Stepping out proudly from his cover, he lets his presence be known with a loud, and almost proud cough, his erect penis waving in the air with each step. However, his presence doesn't have the expected reaction as the poor woman screams with surprise, her screech echoing off the nearby mountain.

"Heraclitus? You scared me! What are you doing here? You know that men aren't allowed to visit this temple, especially not today of all days!" she says, gasping afterwards to regain her breath, a hand resting on her heart which is undoubtedly beating as fast as that of a hummingbird.

"I had to see you, Pandora. Aphrodite herself would tremble at the sight that I am gifted with today," Heraclitus tells her, slowly stepping towards her.

"The Gods will not stand for this, Heraclitus, what if they see us? What if someone from Thêbai sees us and spreads word of our actions?"

"There is nobody here but us, I promise you," he says hoping that his words are true. He certainly didn't see anyone whenever he climbed up the path.

Standing in front of each other, they glance up and down. This is the first time they've seen each other naked, and both their hearts are pumping blood hard and fast to the areas that need it the most. Heraclitus's cock is pulsing, and Pandora feels an inner yearning. She raises a hand towards him, but pauses, pulling herself away.

"We can't be together, Heraclitus, as much as I wish otherwise. My father won't allow it and the Gods themselves won't allow it!" she turns away, shielding her body from his gaze.

"Please, Pandora, the Gods led me to you today. I am here by their will and their will alone. Could it be mere coincidence that the bird whose flightpath I was following led me to you? If it weren't for that bird, and it's perfect timing, I'd still be in my shop. Besides, what is so wrong about us being together? Who is your father to decide who you love?"

She turns back around, their hands joining for the first time in months. They have grown used to stealing glances in the Temple of Zeus in Thêbai, or occasionally at the blacksmith's when Pandora's father is in need of new metalwork. Heraclitus will often let his brothers deal with her father so that the two can sneak around the back of the shop to talk, even if only for a short moment. Usually unable to risk making physical contact out of fear of being witnessed.

Despite Pandora's naked flesh being within his grasp, Heraclitus stares deeply into her eyes, their hands locking tighter as they move closer to one another. As their faces near, their lips lock in a moment of pure love and ecstasy. This is their first kiss, first together and first of their lives. Letting their hands fall loose, Heraclitus places his on Pandora's waist, as hers rest against his chest, his pectoral muscles serving as a shelf. The kiss is hot, sweaty, and yet completely innocent; born out of both passion and love. Suddenly, Pandora pulls away, shattering the moment into a million pieces.

"We can't...not here! We dishonour the Gods, Heraclitus!" she explains, holding her hands to her heart as tears begin to form in her eyes. "You should go..."

There's a long pause, and for a moment, Heraclitus considers leaving, the long walk back down the hill seeming worth the reward that he just received. But giving up that easily wouldn't be honouring the Gods either. Are they not the ones who taught humanity to fight for what they desire? Are all the great stories not about persistence in the pursuit of what you most want and need in this world, especially when that thing is love?

"What if I want to stay here?" he asks her, "with you!"

She can't hide the smile that spreads across her face, her cheeks beginning to glow pink. The sun is moving beyond the other side of the hill and a shadow is cast across the temple, sinking it into a darker state, spreading until the landscape, including Thêbai, is shrouded in the veil of the mountain.

"If you're going to stay, you'll have to look the part. You're likely unaware of this, but today is nude day, so we have to honour the Gods in the manner they intended," she tells him, glancing down at his already naked body, "but we pay our respects to the Gods, ask them for our forgiveness, and then we leave, ok?"

"Of course," he responds, secretly praying to the Gods for the opportunity to do more. How often will their naked bodies be so close to one another; so easily within reach that to stretch out an arm would be to ignite the passion that the poets speak of daily.

Pandora lifts her tub and swirls her fingertips in the red substance. Staring up at Heraclitus's stubbled face, she smears streaks across his cheeks. Dipping her fingers in again, the liquid looking more and more like blood, she pauses for a moment as her eyes trail down his body. She raises her hand to his chest, hesitates, and then drags her fingers around his nipples, creating a swirl pattern that connects right to left. Her fingertips gracefully glide down the centre of his abdomen, and as she kneels, she's face to face with Heraclitus's hard, throbbing cock. She reaches for it, pausing so close to it that she can feel its heat, but she moves to the side and drags the pattern down his thigh to his toes.

Repeating the same again on the other side, she dips just one finger into her tub, and this one touches just below his bellybutton. As she moves her finger down, across the substantial bush blocking her path, she traces along the shaft of his cock, which quivers, shakes, and twitches at her touch. Stopping at the head, she lets out a stuttered sigh before standing up to face him again.

"We...we should go inside," she says, her face and chest now the same colour as the paint, but she doesn't move, pausing to admire the strong and powerful man standing in front of her. "If Gods roamed this world..." she mutters under her breath, before turning around to head inside the temple.

Dark clouds crash over the mountain, running down the side of the hill like an avalanche. The sun's rays are blocked, the clouds practically eclipsing all light from this world. But the wind remains still, and the sounds remain beautiful, and neither Heraclitus nor Pandora can take theirs eye off one another long enough to notice the change in weather. The darkness growing, swirling above the temple like a mighty sky whirlpool.

These two naked souls, marked in preparation for honouring the Gods, walk inside the temple. The interior is small, and there's a tiny altar in the centre which holds a pool of clear water. Standing boldly on the opposite side of the room from the entrance is a statue of the Goddess Hera. Perched on her arm is a mighty eagle, much grander and heavier than what any mortal person could hold. As Heraclitus and Pandora kneel on either side of the altar, facing the white marble statue, they bow before the Gods, muttering their own prayers and invocations.

A sudden gust of wind blows the candles out that light the temple, and darkness falls upon the lovers. The world appears to rumble and shake, and flashes of lightning are followed immediately by bellows of thunder. The altar in the centre of the room topples over, narrowly missing Pandora as the pair crawl to each other, gasping and shaking. They lift themselves up, struggling to maintain balance as the ground beneath them shakes and quakes, the entire mountain feeling on the verge of cracking open.

Just as they turn around to flee outside, the two columns crash down, blocking any hope of escaping. The ceiling begins to cave in and as they hug each other tighter, it seems that all hope of surviving is lost. Staring up at the sky, the angry clouds above them tear open as lightning strikes inside the temple. They both scream as the bolt only just misses them, with a second bolt striking the same place, and a third, and a fourth, each hitting the statue of Hera. The Goddess remains unchanged, but the eagle on her arm tilts its head, stretching its neck and then its wings. Gradually gaining colour, it grows and grows until it pushes through the temple's roof.

As it lets out a mighty shriek, it stares down at Pandora and Heraclitus as they cower in terror. Heraclitus grasps his arms around Pandora, doing his best to shield her from the beast. As it lets out another cry, one that makes the ground tremble further, it reaches out with a talon, picking the two up with ease. Tearing the sky open with its powerful wings, it lifts into the air, flying through the dark cloud that lies above, piercing the heavens to reach what lies beyond.

Chapter 3: Olympus

Pandora is the first to wake, her ears ringing and her head pounding. There's nothing around them but whiteness. Where has the eagle gone? Where is the temple? Why does her body feel so strange, as if it is separate from her mind? She watches as Heraclitus wakes up, his head falling into his hands as he tries to regain focus. Neither is in a condition to use words, but they reach for each other's hands. Wherever they are and whatever happened, is happening, or will happen, at least they are together.

Heraclitus stands up, wobbling slightly as he tries to find his balance. He glances around but all he can see is cloud. They are standing on a hard substance, but it doesn't appear to be Earth, but rather Cyclopean in nature: a giant structure with no apparent end. His bare feet remind him that the pair are still naked, the red ink smeared and even dripping as sweat runs down their bodies, falling to the ground and being absorbed by the material below. Reaching down with one hand, Heraclitus helps Pandora to her feet, her mouth wide open as she glances around their new environment.

"Where are we?" she mumbles, leaning against Heraclitus for support.

"It's not the underworld, at least not the one that I imagined, but where else could we be? That messenger of Zeus certainly devoured our bodies, so this must be death." His words were cold and empty as he faces the realisation that they just might be true.

"THE UNDERWORLD?!" a voice bellows, coming from nowhere and everywhere at the same time, "You dare speak of my realm in such a manner after disrespecting my wife's temple, mortal! You dare defile her sacred day of nude with your lustful thoughts and actions! Do you believe yourselves above the laws of mortals? Do you believe yourselves to be Gods?"

All around them there is nothing but cloud for as far as the eye can see, and yet standing larger than most mountains, a giant, bearded man steps forward. Both his hair and beard are long, white, and flowing, and he's adorned with golden jewellery, each piece larger than any building in Thêbai. His hand alone could crush the city into dust without exerting any effort at all.

All the air in Pandora's lungs is ripped out of her, and Heraclitus drops to his knees in disbelief. Each muscle strand of this God is longer than any river, and any bead of sweat would fill the oceans. His naked body, exposed and intimidating, screams power and respect. Though it is the least of their concern, the pair can't help but glance down at the ginormous penis that swings from side to side like a cosmic pendulum. Even in proportion to the rest of his body, its size is incredible and terrifying.

"Forgive us, oh mighty Zeus! Please!" Heraclitus begs, dropping all the way to the floor as he clasps his hands together.

The sky glows yellow, and in Zeus's hand a thunderbolt stretching beyond sight itself begins to form. It cracks and zaps with an unforgiving anger, each shock echoing around the mortals, shaking the very ground they stand on, forcing them to duck lower as they cower in fear and awe.

"Please, almighty Zeus, our actions only reflect our love for one another. We were stupid and we made a mistake, but we meant neither you nor our wife any disrespect, you have my word, you have our word!" Pandora cries up to him, hoping for the slightest shred of mercy. "Our only intention was to honour Hera's day of nudity..."

"I will obliterate you both from existence for your actions! Your story shall serve as a warning to the rest of humanity!" he decides, pointing the hissing bolt of lightning at them.

In a similar manner to inside the temple, Heraclitus and Pandora clutch each other, hoping to share just one last embrace. They close their eyes, preparing themselves for the end.

"Wait!" a female voice commands, appearing to put Zeus's plans temporarily on hold as he lowers his lightning bolt.

Glancing up, Heraclitus and Pandora are surprised to see a regular sized person. She's wearing a white robe, so white that the surrounding clouds begin to appear grey in colour. Her pale skin and dark brown hair contrast one another, the latter being held in place by a golden hairnet and a regal crown. There's no debate over which Goddess this is, especially since they were staring at her statue mere moments ago.

"Hera..." Pandora mutters under her breath in disbelief, admiring the Goddess's soft features which almost seem statuesque in nature, as if her skin is made from marble.

"My love, these mortals desecrated your temple on the mountainside of Thêbai. They must be punished!" and with that, his arm cocks back, preparing to throw the mighty bolt of lightning down upon the couple.