The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

At Last!

An earlier version was proofread by Janey, but she is not responsible for remaining errors.

<Ouuuuga>

<Ouuuuga>

<Ouuuuga>

Despite her prerogatives—feminine and divine—of doing exactly what she wanted when she wanted to do it, Aphrodite grudgingly forced herself awake. Why in Hades’ name was the computer system blaring the emergency alert? Especially at this hour? Especially when she was so pleasantly full of her divine husband’s divine cock?

And on a Sunday morning?

Her computers were programmed to respond to all but the most extreme prayers automatically. You didn’t need the Goddess of Love herself to tell an over-eager man to spend a little more time getting his wife hot before trying to plunge in. If he hit a brick wall and deflated, well, it served him right. And if the woman really needed to get laid, the computer could give her a few tips on dressing more provocatively and moving her hips with a little more wiggle. No, no ordinary mortal lust should have disturbed her sleep.

<Ouuuuga>

<Ouuuuga>

<Ouuuuga>

This was to have been their perfect night. Nowadays the gods had such hectic schedules and she had planned everything to be alone with her mate. Hephaestus no longer had to help out only with forging plows and swords. Instead, he was the Ultimate Tech Support when an IT specialist was at the end of her tether. The last eighteen months had been Hades for her poor husband, as he had been roped into countless projects to fix the Y2K problem. The ignominy! The damned millennium wasn’t even numbered after the Olympians, but who did the prayers come to? The Nazarene? Oh, no. “My kingdom is not of this world.”

Then some Scandinavian trickster had come through and persuaded all the Olympians to change their computer systems to avoid the Y2K problem. Now the hardware—made in Cathay or Zeus knows where—was all going on the blink at the same time. And the only response from the 24-hour 800 number was, “Your call is very important to us...” And it would be a hot day in Ultima Thule before one of Loci’s “service representatives” showed up in Hellas. So who did all the gods call? Her poor Hephaestus...

That came on top or the previous emergency when first ASSTR and then ASSM had gone down. Millions of porn fans started inundating the Celestial Server with demands to see their favorite dirty stories nicely saved and catalogued ASAP! And when, with the help of Hephaestus and readers who make contributions at http://www.asstr.org/donations.html the problem was solved, did anyone say, “Thanks?”

With all this work, her poor husband was so tuckered when he staggered back to their celestial palace every night that it was all he could do to plough Aphrodite to a few orgasms, fill her with a couple of loads, and collapse into the arms of Morpheus. It had been weeks since he had eaten her!

Aphrodite wasn’t used to such Spartan sex and wasn’t going to put up with the lack of attention for long. Aphrodite needed more loving than this and she was determined to get it! Threatening to make Jove give back the magic amulet that kept Hera screwing him, at least occasionally, Aphrodite persuaded the Father of Gods and Men to put a thunderbolt into the Forge’s power supply, sending Heph home at mid-afternoon.

She was waiting for him. She had chosen a square cut tank top and a waist-tied skirt in a Hydra print that nicely showcased her voluptuous body. Shaking the raven locks that fell in romantic ringlets to her alabaster shoulders, she strategically placed a foot with prettily painted toes clad in a 3 1/2 inch stiletto-heel T-strap sandal on the base of a column. [Those Gucci Brothers might be Italian barbarians, but they knew how to make hot footwear!]. Heph’s favorite golden loops dangled from her ear lobes. The notes of Orpheus’s lyre wafted in from the courtyard. (Ok, it was only a CD of “Orpheus’s Greatest Hits,” but it was always effective in getting Heph in the mood.) The table was laid with her husband’s favorite wines and ambrosia, but Aphrodite had a bet with herself it would never be tasted.

She won the bet. Boy did she win it!

The Goddess of Love was not surprised to see Heph’s reaction as soon as he saw his divinely hot wife. It almost tore a hole in his loin cloth “Oh, honey, is that the Sword of Damocles in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?” she asked coyly.

Aphrodite didn’t expect a verbal reply and didn’t get one. Instead Heph grunted and lunged for her in a style to become reminiscent of NFL fullbacks trying for a fourth and goal from the one. In seconds she felt herself hefted (or was that Hephted?) and slung over her divine lover’s broad shoulder. Heph might be lame, but he sure as Hades was making good time toward the master alcove. He was so sweaty and smelly and macho, her pussy tingled in giddy, inverted anticipation.

<thwump>

The goddess was on her back. As her head cleared she saw Heph drop his loin cloth. Yes! Her offering to Priapus—the come from one hundred virgins’ first orgasms—had been well rewarded; Heph’s erection was as straight and hard and long and thick as she’d ever seen it. She was going to enjoy this night!

<rip>

‘One square-neck tank top, finis, thirty-seven drachma,’ Aphrodite thought.

<pop> <shhhrup>

‘Hydra print skirt, sixty-one drachma,’ the Goddess inventoried with a smirk.

<twang>

‘Ouch! That smarted,’ she thought. ‘Why couldn’t he just pull it down? I would have lifted my butt, if he’d given me the chance. Oh, well, one black lace thong, eighteen drachma.’

So, what! Her credit at Nike’s Secret was good for a lot more than one hundred sixteen drachma, plus tax. Money well spent if it meant she got...

<kersplush>

“Uuuuuu!”

... impaled on Heph’s magnificent goddess-pleaser. “Oh my Zeuuuuuuuuuus!” the goddess squealed. The first orgasm hit her before Heph was all the way in.

This was not the kind of foreplay her expert system advised for reluctant wives, but Aphrodite wasn’t reluctant. Her divine snatch had been wet for hours, waiting for this moment. When Aphrodite felt Hephaestus’s adamantine prick slide into her sloppy hole, she thought she had died and gone to... Wait! She was an Immortal and she was already in heaven, but—whatever! It felt damned good.

First fuck had been around nightfall. By midnight Aphrodite had been screwed every way known in Greater Hellas and had come so many times she couldn’t think straight. Who WANTED to think straight? She vaguely remembered her Hindu friend, Shiva, bragging that her Krishna knew thousands more positions, but Aphrodite didn’t give a damn. She had been most satisfactorily pummeled, pounded, and orgamsed out. She was one happy goddess when at last she snuggled up to her sleeping husband, kissed him one last time and closed her eyes. Not intending to open them again until...

<Ouuuuga>

<Ouuuuga>

<Ouuuuga>

Aphrodite tried burrowing deeper into the massive chest and muscled arm of her sexy husband. Hephaestus had been fucking her silly since the Indo-Aryans were a little tribe of nomads and it STILL drove her crazy! He had the body of a Greek god—well, he WAS a Greek god and not a wimpy one like Apollo, either. No, her Heph was built on the Sylvester Stallone model; or rather, Rambo was built on the Hephaestus model! Heph had the equipment that Dark Wanderer wives dream about and their husbands have nightmares about. And, by Jove, did he know how to use it!

Maybe this was a bad dream. Cyrphe was supposed to be night duty, but Aphrodite had seen the horny nymph giving the eye to one of the young satyrs who kept the grounds and the Love Goddess didn’t need much imagination to know where SHE was right now. No, this was no dream. Aphrodite had to take care of this herself before it woke her darling mate.

The new Answered Prayer 5.0 for Windows 2000 was supposed to be almost fully automated, she groused silently as she padded her way along the colonnade to the IT room. There was no reason for her to have to attend to all these petitions personally in this day and age. That’s why she had installed the expert system. At least ninety-nine percent of all the petitions fell into just four categories:

“Please let him make a move on me.” “Please let her say yes when I make a move on her.”

“Please let me be able to get him to use a condom.” “Please let me be able to fuck her without a condom.”

“Please don’t let me be pregnant.” “Please let her be pregnant.”

“Please let me be able to get him to go down on me.” “Please let me be able to get her to give me a blow job.”

Aphrodite had been so happy when the new software arrived, especially when she saw who delivered it, a hunky demigod driving a big orange and blue Gods Ex, (not “Gods’ Sex”—get a grip, girl) chariot. The young driver went away knowing just HOW grateful the goddess was for his “service.” And when Heph had installed it for her, she spent more than two nights thanking him. And now this!

<OUUUUUGA>

<OUUUUUGA>

<OUUUUUGA>

<OUUUUUGA>

The alarm seemed to increase in volume as she sat down and hit the kill switch.

<OUGA...>

Merciful silence!

Quickly Aphrodite clicked on the diagnostics icon to see what could have gone wrong. Glancing at the control screen, she saw it going crazy with wild hieroglyphics. If this was another trick by her Egyptian colleague Set...!

“INFINITE LOOP: CANNOT PROCESS”

‘Not very helpful,’ the goddess thought. Briefly contemplating asking Zeus to hurl a thunderbolt to blast that impious Microsoft from the face of the earth, she realized that the U.S. Justice Department would probably do a more thorough job, anyway. Quickly she ran a utility to uncover the problem. This was weird! No, understandable in a way. Two diametrically contradictory petitions of a maximum emotional urgency had arrived at the very same nanosecond, throwing the hapless computer into a Godelian loop. Quickly Aphrodite pulled up the two messages on a split screen.

“Oh, shit!” she screamed. “I should have fucking know! Those two again! I’m going to KILL them!” She roared. She ground her teeth. Her nostrils flared and her eyes grew red with rage. Aphrodite was tired—tired wasn’t the word—she had had it up to her aura with this pair. Actually, if she could have arranged it, the troublesome Fantastic Female and Major Steve Trevor would have been fried decades ago. Since the ‘40s of the Twentieth Century Col. Trevor (well, he was only a Lieutenant, then) had been trying to get into the star-spangled pants of the Amazon Princess, who had been fending him off for exactly as long.

Zeus steadfastly refused to thunderbolt Col. Trevor, pointing out that he was doing only what every red-blooded mortal and blue-ichored god wanted to do himself. And he likewise refused to let Aphrodite do anything to interfere with Fantastic Female’s superheroine career; she took care of dozens of chores that would otherwise have taken Zeus away from having fun with half the maidens and all the nymphs in Hellas. Bottom line: she could do nothing to this dysfunctional couple—and zillions of their fans—who generated a disproportional amount of the traffic on both her 800 number and the website.

“Steve Trevor and that dammed amazon bitch again!” she almost screamed. She guessed what had happened even before she read the simultaneous pleas.

Steve had rescued this “Fantastic Female”—again—and he had hoped to take advantage of it to get into her pants—again.

“Please let me score this time."/“Please make him leave me alone.”

Aphrodite had been getting these conflicting prayers every month or so for years and had long since ignored them. Couldn’t Steve figure it out for himself? The amazon in the funny red pants, although she certainly had a body built for fucking, was under a curse that kept her from doing anything about it. As an Amazon, if she gave herself to a man, she lost all her super powers. As an official of the United State Government, Col. Trevor certainly shouldn’t want to deprive his nation of the services of the sexiest superheroine in the universe. Unfortunately, as a man, Col. Steve Trevor wanted nothing more that to fuck her silly and to Hades with the superpowers. Because of the curse, Fantastic Female couldn’t fuck Steve, but she’d surely fucked up Aphrodite’s computer. It was the last straw.

With blazing fingers she punched in the numbers on her cell phone. “Cybernetica! Come here and get me Eros,” the goddess barked at her IT support nymph.

“Yes, Oh yessss. YESSSSS. I’m coming,... I’m COMING... Aieeeeeeeeeee!”

“I mean NOW, Zeusdammit, not when you finish with whoever you have in there fucking your eyeballs out, you slut! If you don’t get me Eros here in five minutes, you’re going to find out just how it feels to have Cebrerus fuck you and Phil Phantom write about it!” the goddess fumed. There was no justice in Olympus. Athena got the seven cultivated, well-behaved Muses to do her bidding; Aphrodite got the seven wanton, misbehaving Fuses to do—exactly what they wanted, which was mainly to get laid morning, noon, and night!

It was closer to ten minutes when a drowsy, slightly spacey little god flitted into the computer center. Aphrodite was glowering as she sipped a new beverage brought to her recently by the AEthiopians, a black bitter concoction, but one that energized her more than the ambrosia that Hebe prepared.

“I won’t bother asking what took you so long. Didn’t I teach you to wash the pussy juice off face after you eat a goddess?”

“I was in the middle of making love to my wife,” her son huffed. “And if we go to your alcove I’ll bet we’ll find Hepheastus’s face needs washing, too. Why the summons at this ungodly hour, Mom? Aurora doesn’t get up for hours yet?”

“What’s it to you? Psyche has you in bed day and night, anyway.”

“I don’t want to go into this with you, Mom,” Eros replied wearily.

“Yeah, I know what you want to go into and with whom,” was his Aphrodite’s sour reply.

After several more rounds of this sort of sniping Aphrodite got down to business. “I’m sick of this Col. Trevor and Fantastic Female screwing up my communications system. I want a final solution to this. And since I can’t touch Fantastic Female, I’ve got and idea for how you can fix Col. Trevor.”

“But what can I do. Zeus refuses to blast him.”

“You are going to get one Col. Steven Trevor, U. S Military Intelligence—what an oxymoron—and one off-the-reservation amazon, a.k.a. “Fantastic Female” out of my hair once and for all!”

“You want me to make them fall in love for good?”

“No, you dolt, the amazon bitch must remain a virgin to deal with alien life forms, supervillains, and natural disasters. She doesn’t deserve it, anyway. No, you are going to make Col. Trevor fall in love—really in love—with someone else. A tennis star, a CNNfn correspondent babe, an MTV hostess, whom, I don’t really care. Just make sure the woman has the hots for Trevor, too. He’s kind of handsome for a mortal and deserves a frisky woman to make up for the frustration he’s gone through all these years panting for the amazon. If you have any trouble finding a woman who really likes to fuck, ask Janey or Lucinda or Bronwen; they claim to know plenty. Once Col. Trevor is in love with someone else, he leaves the Amazon bitch alone and, voila, everybody’s happy.”

“Great idea, Mom. I’ll put an old arrow through his heart.”

“They don’t call me the Goddess of ‘Luv’ for nothing, Jr.” she smirked. “Just make sure the woman falls in love with him, too.—totally, passionately. I don’t want Col. Trevor back here next week because SHE won’t put out for him.”

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll get them with my trick shot, one arrow through both hearts. It’ll be a piece of cake”

“Yeah, wedding cake!” Aphrodite sighed, suddenly sentimental.

* * *

Flying as fast as his chubby little wings would carry him, Eros was able to arrive in Washington early Monday afternoon. Big Mistake! Though invisible, he apparently showed up on the radar at Andrews and caused them to scramble a fighter squadron to intercept the unidentified aircraft. Then, after dodging ATA missiles, as he approached the Pentagon he could hardly get through the constant stream of flights coming into or going out of Reagan National.

It was Thursday morning before Eros could find Col. Steve Trevor in the labyrinthine corridors of the Pentagon. Eros was growing discouraged; he hadn’t even started on finding a woman for him. Then he got lucky. (Not that way, you perverts. Eros is totally faithful to his Psyche.) Thank Zeus, there was a woman in the same office with Col. Trevor. Hmm. Not a bad looker, though she sure didn’t know how to dress. “Zeus in Olympus!” Eros muttered to himself when he checked the woman’s measurements. “Why look further? Stevie boy will fall out of his tree when he sees her naked.” This meant Eros didn’t need to find someone else, engineer a chance encounter, etc. He’d be back in Hellas and in Psyche’s sweet snatch in time for TGIF. Zeus, he was horny!

Aiming carefully, Eros loosed his arrow and watched it fly, unerringly piercing first the heart of Steve Trevor and then, that of the woman, Diana Something-or-Other. The little god grinned and hovered around to monitor the effects of his marksmanship.

* * *

Steve glanced over at Diana. An amazing thought had just occurred to him. That mousy Diana Prince with a little makeover could be HOT! Why had he never thought of her that way before. The bun? Pull the clip and her hair would fall to her shoulders. Those awful glasses? He had seen a Linda Carter ad for laser surgery that would correct that. ‘Totally fuckable. I could have some fun with that sexy broad,’ Steve thought, totally forgetting his lifelong obsession with Fantastic Female.

‘I’ll get her to wear those tight, hot minis with 4″ heels with an ankle tie and take her clubbing to Los Amigos del Disco. Hell, with that black hair she could pass for a Latina. When I twirl her around and everybody sees she isn’t wearing panties, all the men will be soooo envious,’ he smirked. ‘And we can go to all the hockey games and have pizza and beer at the Calvert Grill.’

‘Then in few months when she finds she’s going to have a baby—heh -heh—I’ll pop the question. Of course, being totally ape over me she’ll say yes yes yes yes and I’ll move us to a big house out near Dulles. Some dot com company should be willing to pay an ex-intelligence hot-shot like yours truly enough to support Mr. and Mrs. Trevor and our six or eight kids. Oh, yeah, this is going to be perfect!’ Steve mused, not aware that there was anything wrong with having rewritten his life plan in a matter of seconds.

* * *

Diana Prince looked up from her work. She had been fidgeting in her chair since just after lunch. The source of her discomfort was near at hand; Col. Steve Trevor was looking at her again. But that wasn’t the whole story; she felt odd, too, giggly and happy that he was looking. She had an urge to shake loose her long hair from its tight bun and let it fall fetchingly to her shoulders. “Maybe I could duck into the ladies’ room to freshen my lipstick,” she thought, not remembering that she wasn’t wearing lipstick. She was chagrined to think how frumpy she must look to a dashing man like Col. Trevor in her loose skirt, nondescript blouse and flats. But , wait! “Of course I look frumpy. I work hard every morning to look frumpy. It isn’t easy when you have a dynamite body like mine!”

Then an amazing thought occurred to her. Steve Trevor, though arrogant and full of himself, taken in hand by the right woman, like yours truly—heh heh—could be turned into a decent prospect! Why had she never thought of him that way before. The buzz cut? Let his hair grow and he’d look like an adult. Those awful uniforms? Well, he’d probably want to find a civilian career to impress his new girlfriend and would, of course, need her help choosing the right wardrobe. ‘I’m going to have so much fun with that hunk,’ Diana thought, totally forgetting her lifelong obsession with protecting Fantastic Female’s virtue.

No, no, she couldn’t let herself think like that. She had always gone out of her way to remain unattractive to men, especially Steve Trevor, with whom she had to work. There was no way to avoid his lust for her as Fantastic Female; she didn’t need him hot for Miss Prince, too. The contradictory thoughts flitted in and out of her mind.

“You must never give yourself to a man, my child. If you do, all your powers to help others will desert you,” Diana could hear her mother, Queen Hypolite, telling her so many years ago. And she’d always been a good girl, too. Oh, sure, she let herself go a few times when some overpowered android cock was pounding her pussy senseless, making her scream in mindless ecstasy as it attempted to orgasm her into submission. And she’d let herself go occasionally when the odd trans-genetic plant had its tendrils deep in her twat, tickling her clit as it massaged her breasts and sent shock waves of pleasure through her engorged nipples. Damn! She could use one of those aroused androids or a nice horny plant right now! Great Hera! What am I thinking?’

‘Easy enough for you to talk about not giving yourself to a man, mother, but you don’t have to sit across from that hunky Col. Trevor. If you did, I’ll bet your pussy would be leaking just like mine is.’ thought the confused woman. Maybe if I rolled my skirt up a little, Steve could at least see some ankle. Hera knows I have sexy ankles!’

‘I’ll bet he’ll ask me to the University Club Spring Ball! I’ll dress up in a floor-length taffeta gown and everyone will stare when we make our entrance. He’ll waltz me around, gliding smoothly over the floor, adoration shining in his eyes. All the women will be soooo envious,’ she sighed. ‘We’ll have season tickets to the National Symphony Orchestra performances at the Kennedy Center and afterwards he’ll take me to Sweet Georgia Brown for a midnight champagne dinner.’

‘Then in few months, when we are an item in the Georgetown social circuit, I’ll hint how nice it would be to live together in the city. Of course he’ll be totally ape over me and say yes yes yes yes and move us into a Georgetown apartment. Some dot com company should be willing to pay an ex-intelligence hot-shot like him enough to support me while I get my Masters in International Business at SAIS. Oh, yeah, this is going to be perfect!’ Diana mused, not aware that there was anything wrong with having rewritten her life plan in a matter of seconds.

‘Oops’ thought Eros. This wasn’t going quite as expected. Eros sympathized with the men of this strange land. Imagine! A woman with a body like the Diana who was in love, but still wanted to have a “career” instead of staying at home, barefoot and pregnant. Thank Zeus his Psyche was an old-fashioned girl. Career? Hades! She had made a career out making babies. Every year, usually about the time Proserpine returned in the spring, Psyche presented him with another adorable little puto. Back during the 16th Century when they were in such demand as models for Renascence Masters, Psyche was popping out litters of two and three per year, but recently she had decided one per year was enough to keep her occupied. It made Eros horny all over again thinking about his lovely Psyche back home, their most recent infant parked on her pregnant belly, nursing, her holding the wings of a little cherub just learning to fly, her seeing the little puti off to pre-gymnasium every morning.

This Ms. Price was totally different. You didn’t have to be Dr. Ruth to figure out that after the second Capitals game Diana sat trough and the second time Diana dragged Steve to see Ethan Steifle and the ABT, the lovers would be at each other’s throats. ‘They need a little more in common,’ the god grinned.

Carefully Eros put away the gold-tipped Romantic Love arrow and withdrew a larger iron-tipped one dipped in quicksilver. ‘The Carnal Lust arrow never fails!’ he reflected. Even lust needed to be fine-tuned, however. Generally it was enough to increase the woman’s libido by several factors. A man would put up with a lot of ballet from a woman who wanted to fuck his brains out every night. Hmm. A quick scan showed that the Diana woman already had a roaring libido, but was holding it in check for some reason. Never mind, he’d just make her forget her reasons and let the good times roll!

‘Oh, that’s not good!’ Eros thought, continuing his mindscan. The woman had an aversion to giving head. Oh, well, that could be fixed, too. ‘With a few little adjustments in Diana, Col. Trevor is going to realize that he’ll never find a hotter woman and he’d better treat her right,’ Eros reasoned.

Then he turned to making sure Col. Trevor DID treat her right. A little adjustment of Steve’s quantity/quality ratio was in order. Better change the desired setting from 10 minutes, 15 times pre week to something Diana would enjoy better: say, three hours, five times a week ‘I’ll install a WAGOF (woman-always-gets-off-first rule) and—what’s this? Oh, the silly man, thinks he doesn’t like to eat pussy? Well, that’s easy to fix. Col. Trevor’s woman is going to realize that she’ll never find a better man and she’d better treat him right,’ Eros reasoned.

Suddenly, before Eros could get off his shot, Diana sat upright, realizing where her thoughts were taking her. She had to get away from Steve before she did something foolish! Pushing back her chair, Diana bolted for the door. She felt slightly more in control as she hurried out onto the immense parking lot and found her Neon. Wow, that was a close call, she reflected. She could never recall being so excited in her life, but it was more than horniness. She needed a man, but even more she needed one man—Steve. Steve, who had lusted for her as Fantastic Female all these years, never marrying, never having other girlfriends, always loyal to Fantastic Female. Diana’s heart was melting. And now he was looking at her the same way—her, mousy, drab Diana, not his sex fantasy. A glance can tell a girl so much. Poor Steve! He was trying to tell her, trying to communicate. There was love in his eyes, devotion. “Oh, Steve, you’d be so perfect—if I could only have you!”

Diana’s eyes were filled with tears when she arrived at her Wisconsin Ave. apartment. “Why do I have to be Fantastic Female? Why do I have to be temerarious and rush off to save people and countries and planets? Why can’t I have a man—at last! Oh Hera, I’ve got to come!”

Always determined to overcome her need to masturbate, Diana did not possess a vibrator or even a dildo. Hades, she had used her only cucumber in last night’s salad!. Nothing mattered. Minutes later she was spawled on her bed with her legs wide apart, furiously finger fucking herself. “Oh God, Steve,” moaned the imperious Amazon “TAKE ME!”

“What had gotten into Diana?” Steve wondered. Oh, she had probably gotten uncomfortable from his staring at her, poor thing. He should apologize. He raced after her, but she had disappeared. He had no idea where she lived. Well, he didn’t work for Military Intelligence for nothing. It took him less than an hour to hack into Pentagon personnel files and find the address. Smiling, Eros flew along behind as Steve’s Miata screamed along Rock Creek Parkway.

“Diana, I have to talk to you!” Steve shouted, pounding on the door of her apartment when she didn’t answer his insistent ringing of the bell.

“I can’t. Not now. Go away, Steve,” Diana replied, using all her will power not to open up and fling herself in his arms.

‘Perfect angle,’ thought Eros. ‘One immaterial Carnal Lust arrow through the genitals. Yes!’

Suddenly Diana felt funny. Great Hera! She had just come a half dozen times before Steve arrived. She thought the worst was over. It was breaking her heart, but loyalty to her calling as Fantastic Female was strong. She would NOT open the door. Now she knew she was wrong. The desire she had felt for Steve before was still there, but there was something new. She needed a cock! A man’s cock! In her pussy! Desperately! At this instant! If she was going to give herself to anyone, it might as well be Steve. She opened the door.

It this were a cartoon, instead of a serious piece of erotic literature, we would depict the ensuing scene as a rapidly spinning blur with pieces of clothing being ejected from time to time. “Steve, darling, HURRY!” Diana wailed. Nothing in his training prepared Steve to handle a woman this hot, but something about him rose to the occasion. Minutes later his cock was buried deep in Diana’s pussy and the ravaged woman was bellowing for more. There would be Hell to pay at the next meeting of the Condo owners’ association, Diana knew.

‘Mission accomplished,’ thought Eros as he banked and headed East.

The following morning Aphrodite was standing at the doorway of her mansion and inquiring, “How did it go?”

A slightly jet-lagged, very Psyche-welcomed little god scanned her face before replying. She seemed to be in a better mood than Sunday morning when she sent him out on that crazy mission.

You’d better believe she was! Aphrodite could compartmentalize. Once she had turned off the alarm and dispatched her son that morning, she headed back to the alcove. Hephaestus was still asleep. He didn’t remain that way long! She licked her favorite part of his body until it was rigid and gleefully flung herself on him. By the time Hephaestus was fully awake, Aphrodite was mewing through her second orgasm so loud it disturbed the peace of the souls in the Elysian Fields.

For the next few hours the divine lovers ran through a reprise of the previous night. By noon Aphrodite knew she was going to be entitled to a refund from Hebe on all that ambrosia she had ordered. They never made it to the table. One of the Muses put it this way:

With no need of philter, Hephaestus had filled her, And then he had eaten his fill of her fill. Then she had partaken Of his filling filler. A nice little fillip, a swill.

It gave new meaning to “breakfast in bed.”

The rest of the week Aphrodite basked in the afterglow of that incredible day—and night. Hephaestus staggered into the forge late on Monday morning with a goofy grin on his face that left no doubt among the other smiths that the boss had a GOOD weekend. When Hermes showed up later in the day with a bouquet of flowers sent by his fuck-happy wife, the guys teased him, but they were really jealous as all Hades. Aphrodite just sat at her computer all week with a big satisfied smile on her face clicking “Granted,” “Granted,” “Granted,” to all the petitions, even that disastrous one from Monica—how embarrassing!

The dreamy smile on his mother’s face gave Eros the nerve to recount his experience. He told how he had almost been shot down by the jets from Andrews and how he had gotten lost in all those corridors at the Pentagon looking for Col. Trevor. “Time was running out, but then I got lucky. It turned out there was a very pretty woman working in the very same office next to Col. Trevor. It took two arrows. But I did it.” Eros concluded proudly

“In the same office?” Aphrodite asked apprehensively. “What was her name?”

“Diana something. I don’t know. I just got a glimpse at her ID tag. King? No,... Duke? No,... Ah! Prince. Diana Prince. She looked pretty intell—”

“Diana Prince!” Aphrodite burst out. “You idiot! You nincompoop! Only the son of that dimwit, Ares could be so ignorant. Why did I let him get me pregnant that night? You don’t know who Diana Prince IS??? Don’t you read comic books like other boys? No, of course you don’t, you stupid little fucker. That minx Psyche has you in bed all the time screwing out what few brains you have left. You know I’ve never liked her; she’s too old for you. I’ll have the furies hound you both for a century for this. I’ll...”

Mrs. Diana Trevor looked around to make sure no one saw her before she lifted the rear of the Cherokee and slid it into a parking space at the mall. Like most women, she had never gotten the hang of parallel parking. She was glad her mother had been wrong, about loosing her superpowers, or at least misleading. Queen Hypolite hadn’t exactly said she would LOOSE her superpowers, rather that she would no longer have them to help humanity.

So true! Diana found she needed everything the magic girdle and golden lasso could give her just to manage the big house, run the office of Steve’s consulting business, ferry Britany and Jennifer to soccer practice, pick Laurel up from Tae Kwan Do, deliver Helen to morning kindergarten and fetch her again at noon, take Sara and Sole to the pediatrician for their two-year check up, and nurse little Margaret. Maybe, just maybe, she thought, rubbing the bulge in her tummy, if this one were a boy, at last, Steve might give her a break from baby making for a while. She doubted it, however, knowing how well he liked seeing the way her pregnant belly stretched the red Lycra tights when he dressed her up like Fantastic Female.

The End