The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Exotix Bar, (located in a small parasite dimension illegally attached to reality by questionable methods....)

Phil the Were-Hypnotist slams a copy of The Times onto the table in front of me, its open at Announcements and one particular paragraph is ringed in highlighter pen

* ...The wedding of Douglas ‘Cupid’ Saunderson and Helen ‘Psyche’ Osnasos in a private ceremony... *

“Umm” I say as the slurry lagoon hits the windmill

“I was right! It is real.” replied my friend Phil

“Something you’ve been forgetting to tell us Dougy?” says Mark the Yucca in that tone of voice that says ‘we’re going to wrap your motorbike in cling-film and then tie it to the top of an electricity pylon for keeping us in the dark’

I take a long swig on my drink, using the distraction to think of something ...anything... that they are going to believe. Having thought of absolutely nothing I decide to lie through my teeth.

“I don’t fucking know any Psyche chick” I reply.

“You know Dougy, you are a lousy liar” says Mark rustling his leaves.

What? Oh yeah, the leaves. I guess I’d better explain, none of us is exactly human, We’re the sort of people that you regular humans write about in the Weekly World News and Alien Sightings Weekly.

Mark the Yucca really is a Yucca plant, a relatively intelligent one at that.

And Phil; Phil is a Were-Hypnotist; that is to say, when the moon is full he turns into a gay sex-crazed stage hypnotist able to mesmerize a guy at fifty paces.

Me? I’m a Cupid or possibly The Cupid. I used to be human, or at least I looked human. Argh! this gets so fucking complex; basically about nine months ago I grew wings and a set of top drawer matchmaking abilities, basically the full Cupid power like it says on the tin.

Got that? Good; now where was I? Oh yeah, the bloody newspaper announcement.

“When exactly were you going to tell us, your good friends, that you got married?”

“It’s not exactly that straight forward.” I reply, putting on my best ‘dejected’ look and wondering desperately how the newspaper got my names (both of them).

“With you its never simple, you numpty” Grumbled Phil “Like that time we had to deliver that sealed biohazard container to New York”

“Well they should’ve cleaned the towels in that hotel more often.” I protest guiltily. “Look, I would have invited you, really, its just that... she doesn’t know who or what I am” That last part came out as a mumble and I’m looking at my sandaled feet rather than them.

“If she’s human she won’t have noticed anything odd about you, you know that, its hardwired into their brains not to notice weird shit like us”

“I haven’t actually told her my name...and nobody is supposed to know anyway” I explain miserably.

“I knew it would have to be something fucked up and complicated.” Muttered Phil “How the heck do you marry someone and not tell them your name? I mean wasn’t there a speech? you know...Do you <insert name here> take <insert girls name here> to be your lawful wedded wife...etc. etc.”

“Not exactly, the ceremony was kind of rushed...” I let the sentence trail off, and I didn’t really want to explain about the post-it notes out of context. “Look, I’d better tell this from the beginning or you’ll be asking questions for like, ever”

They nod, finally getting the point that I’m in probably in deep shit, ...again.

It all started a couple of months ago. After that little bio-hazard accident in New York and my encounter with ‘Him what works its mysterious ways’, I decided it might not hurt to be out of the country for a while.

Greece sounded kewl; I figured I could do a little research on my family tree when I wasn’t on the beach setting up a few holiday romances.

You got to understand; nobody told me ‘when you grow up you will have wings like Daddy’. Certainly my Mom wasn’t expecting it, she was the one that called the exorcist after all.

So for family history all I got to work on is some mythical Greek dude, some ancestors who got jobs posing for medieval painters and a statue in Piccadilly Circus. Where better to search for answers than Greece? Besides Ibitha rocks!

Obviously as soon as I hit the beaches all my scholarly intentions went bye-bye. All those beautiful almost naked babes and guys, it was, like, my natural environment.

Like I said, when I grew those wings I also got the other abilities associated with the Cupid species. I can telepathically sense when normal humans are in love, and then there’s the arrows; in my arms I have these sort of duct things that can shoot love darts when I do a Spiderman wrist flick. Its, like, a really kewl ability, I just line up a likely couple and shoot them with my venom tipped darts and watch the floor show as the fuck their way to unconsciousness. Sorted!

My venom is seriously un-normal stuff it has, like, two effects, firstly its the ultimate aphrodisiac, anyone I hit is ripping their clothes off in seconds; second effect, it adjusts the two victims.. umm lovers... So that they are compatible. One time it even turned a stallion into a human so he could successfully mate with a cheerleader.

I’m also a bit of a voyeur; I love watching. So as you can imagine by the end of the my first morning on the beach I’m, like, sat at ground zero, surrounded by a sea of love-darted humans who are busy getting jiggy with it.

Boy/girl, girl/girl, boy/boy it didn’t matter to me, they all ended up on the floor trying for that double orgasm. In the end it got to the point where I’d shot everyone within range and was lazily picking off at any couples who wandered too close.

Ok, it was a bit excessive, but hey, I was on holiday, and none of my victims had any objections, even the straight ones I turned gay were as happy as fuck.

Naturally it was too good to be true. This total babe walks into my range. Now we are talking ultra-hot here, think of the top twenty catwalk models, all rolled into one. I should have realized she wasn’t human, but I didn’t.

I took careful aim at her and the dweeb she was with and fired my love darts. I’ve never seen anyone move that fast before, the dart aimed at the guy never gets there, she caught it between two delicate fingers.

The other dart hit her on the ass cheek but doesn’t seem to have had any effect.

Now I’ve had trouble before with a pack of soul sucking cheerleaders so I know when it’s time to get the fuck out of there. It was time to get the fuck out. Unfortunately I was still getting up off the sun lounger when she reached me.

“So, you finally got yourself reincarnated Eros; about bloody time! These are yours I think” she says with distain handing me the two love darts.

“Umm yeah, umm sorry miss...?”

“Aphrodite. But you can call me Mom if you prefer”

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.... You can assume I spend the next few minutes thinking those two words over and over.

“Uh actually I already have a mom, so uh, no job vacancy there, sorry” I finally reply trying to sound witty.

“You don’t want me as a mom? Fine, we’ll see how you get on without the wings” she says plucking one of my wing-feathers, ouch! (It always fucking hurts when they do that).

Suddenly its, like, nightmare time, my well defined six-pack slump to form a pot belly, my honed muscles evaporate and my 20/20 eyesight blurs...in short I look exactly like I did before I evolved into a sex god, its not quite Dorian Grey but its close. The very worst bit was how naked my back felt without the warm ticklish weight of my pure white wings.

“Ok, Ok, you can be my mom! Jeez. I’m sorry. I’ll do anything you want! Just let me have my wings back, ok? ...please.” It sounds pathetic, I know, but I really was that desperate to still be the ‘me’ I’d become.

“Good, so glad we understand each other” Smiles Mom in that wicked cheerleader-like way that can only mean trouble. “And since you so kindly offered to do my bidding I have a little task you can perform for me, something that should be easy for such a loyal son.”

“what?” I ask in a petulant tone.

It was like really weird, having agreed she was my mom I was already treating her the way I’d always treated my real... my *other* mom... So yeah, she’d, like, just become the focus for all that sulky teenage rebellion stuff I hadn’t had a chance to do yet.

In reply Aphrodite plays with that feather she’s still holding, the drop of my blood still fresh on the nib of it. I get the point so to speak.

She makes a gesture with the feather as if writing on the air. Quickly an image forms, it’s a pop star super-babe, and she looks even hotter than Mom! Fortunately Mom’s presence already has my Mr. 9 inch at full erection, so she didn’t notice that I was in serious lust.

“This is Psyche-Babe, lead singer in the band ‘Atomic Babes’, She’s way too cute and its pissing me off. I want you to use your love-darts, make her fall in love with someone totally unsuitable, a beggar or a mutant or some inanimate object.”

“Atomic Babes? Never heard of them”

“Of course you haven’t, who do you think runs the music industry in America? If I want a band to be obscure over there, its obscure.”

“But not over here?”

She grimaces, looks like I hit a sore point. Mom doesn’t control everything, which is kind of reassuring given how I’m feeling about her ordering me around like that.

“Just get on with it Eros. She’s at her parents mansion on Lesbos”

“My name is Dougy, not Eros, ok”

She leans forward and re-arranges my hair, brushing it out of my eyes. “You can call yourself anything you like, but you’ll always be my little cherub.”

“Fine!” I say and launch myself into the air; if I’d had a door I’d have slammed it behind me. I figured it was better getting out of there before she got out a wet-wipe and started cleaning my face!

Lesbos

Lesbos, Island of the Amazons, and to my surprise, the location of Mount Olympus, I always had this vague notion Olympus was near Athens (Geography grade : F—should pay more attention in class); ah well, go figure.

I have to say I was disappointed; it looked exactly like any other Greek island with mostly hetro residents, mountains and loads of dead grass.

I was still smarting from having Mom boss me around like that so in a petty act of vengeance I decided to set things straight... or not straight, on Lesbos. I went through the downtown of Mytilini Like the Governator assaulting a master-criminal’s HQ.

Two girls in front of a clothes shop, two darts and the one slams the other against the window her hand reaching up the other’s skirt to rip away a thong.

A pair of Greek grandmas dressed in black, two darts, and they are holding hands.

Two young men, shirtless in the sun, two darts and the transgendering begins their breasts bulging. Actually that was kind of a surprise, I’d expected them to just turn gay, I guess the island does have a subtle influence after all.

Had anyone been tracking me, all they’d have to do was follow the trail of lesbians sixty-nining on the hot pavement.

Once I was out of town and into the country my sulky mood evaporated somewhat. I half heartedly darted a couple of shepherd boys, turning them gay and leaving them rolling in the grass, other than that, the rest of my journey was uneventful.

Psyche’s dad’s estate is near Larisos, in the foothills of Mount Olympus and overlooks a wide blue water bay called the Gulf of Geras. It’s obvious these people are seriously rich; they have lawns the size of central park. I sat in front of the gatehouse and pondered what to do, accompanied by the hist-hist of the sprinklers that kept their lawn grass from turning a parched yellow.

If I wanted to keep my wings I had to obey Mom, on the other hand it would suit me just fine if Mom gained no satisfaction from this business. I decided I’d have to find someone or something Psyche already loved, the least I could do was make sure the kid was happy. Maybe she had a favorite pet I could humanize or a scabby groundsman she’d once smiled at briefly.

As I sat there two guys walked out of the gate, the one consoling the other in Greekish. My ears can understand any language translating it to English in my head. Speaking in foreign is a whole different ball game; I’m crap at it.

“Georgio, it is nothing to be ashamed of, I have heard that even Alexander who’s cock is as large as a tree trunk with a libido the size of Mt Olympus could not get it up for The Lady Psyche”

“I know Patrocles, but, but you’re gay, you don’t understand, to see the most beautiful girl in all Europe and then to be found wanting in *that* way.. it is distressing. Even though she was willing, I ‘knew’ deep inside that I could never be worthy. She deserves the best, and a part of me knows that I am not the one. My heart is broken, but that is a small thing compared to Her future happiness.”

“Come, let us get you as drunk as a British tourist my friend, there are other girls for you to conquer”

“Not for me Patrocles, I shall seek holy orders, become a monk.... After I have had that drink of course” replied his friend.

Interesting, I thought; taking aim with my wrists. These two had provided a valuable insight, and it was only fair to help out the poor broken hearted dude.

A second later my darts hit; unusually the two dudes didn’t just rip at each others clothes and start going at it in the middle of the road, (that’s what usually happens), instead the only outward sign was that the arm Patrocles had around Georgio’s shoulder slipped lower to give his ass a loving squeeze. I chose to take that as a good sign.

Behind me the ornate ironwork gate was closing itself automatically; quickly grabbed my bag and half ran, half glided, through onto the estate.

I spent a while exploring the vast luxurious villa. I’d started out just intending to find out about Psyche, but soon got distracted by some of the ace facilities.

I was just trying out using their swimming pool sized Jacuzzi, my eyes closed, relaxing into the bubbly waters, when disaster struck. I only noticed the maid at the last minute as she entered with some fresh towels.

I scrunched up my face and bit my lip trying to get my un-visibility to work, a second later the towels hit the floor. She’s seen me.

Un-visibility is tricky; I still haven’t entirely got the hang of it. When I’m relaxed and prepared I can walk through a dinner party and remove everyone’s clothes and eat the chocs without any of the ambassador’s guests noticing. On the other hand if I’m taken by surprise or I get stressed, it won’t kick in.

Finally the ol’ lust zone works and the inhalation that was going to be a scream is exhaled as a sigh of love. The maid is seeing her ultimate male sex fantasy made flesh (my flesh) and has forgotten everything except looking, listening and smelling the perfection.

Now that’s all fair enough, trouble is, as soon as I turn the un-visibility off she’ll remember to scream and we get back to square one. There’s really only one solution, I have to make her fall in love with someone, and once she’s making love she’ll forget all about me.

Typically there’s no one around, so I lead her around for a while, looking desperately for someone to match her up with. The trouble with my love darts is that I have to fire both at once, If I don’t I’m in, like, excruciating pain until I fire off the second one.

Finally we come to a large fishpond, it wasn’t ideal but it would have to do. I spent a few seconds ‘finding Nemo’ and then darted girl and the largest male Carp I could see.

As soon as my venom entered her blood my mental hold on her evaporated, replaced by primal lust. I don’t have to bother about her screaming, she’s way, way, too lust crazed to care about cute intruders. Not bothering to undress she takes a running dive into the pool; at the same moment her lover surfaces and takes his first gasp of oxygen through lips that are already becoming human.

I sometimes wonder if my previous incarnation was responsible for most of the mythical hybrid species you’ve hear about.

Anyhow, maid and Nemo are quickly adapting to each other, he growing a human torso and cock, her developing a classic tail with her snapped thong tangled in her new dorsal fin.

They float facing each other, Nemo is justifiably confused and concerned, I figure he thinks her white pinny and black dress are some sort of fish net that’s trapped his lover.

Wordlessly he uses a webbed hand to caress her cheek, in return she kisses his fingers. His other hand tugged ineffectively at the front of the v-necked dress.

Well I guess its no prizes to guess which of these two will have all the brains. The maid also begins tugging at her clothing, determined to be rid of the constraint. Now I’d figured she’d have used a bit of brain and used the zip; perhaps her intellect is adjusting to match that of her fish-for-brains lover.

With surprising strength they manage to tear her free from her clothing; the transformation is complete, she’s a true mermaid now. The couple swim deep twisting around and around each other, the water becomes cloudy with disturbed gravel, I only get the one glimpse of his shaft sliding into her.

Carefully I fished the rags of her uniform out of the pond and tucked them in my bag, she won’t need them again.

One of the great things about you normal humans, you notice nothing. As far as Psyche and family are concerned they have an extra fish, not of a breeding pair of mer-people.

After a few more rooms I came across Papa Osnasos and one of his advisors. Naturally my un-visibility, which I left switched on, had its usual effect; they turned to look lovingly at me, their conversation stopping mid-sentence.

So, the whole spying gig isn’t as easy as it seems, sure I can wander around unnoticed but if I want to listen to a conversation I have to hide behind the curtain and keep very quiet.

“What are we to do? That Giorgio was the seventeenth potential boyfriend who’s had a nervous breakdown in my daughter’s presence. She’s...she’s getting a reputation.” says Papa

“I regret to say your daughter is just too damn beautiful. I’ve had a team of top hypnotherapists talk to them. Apparently they subconsciously compare their handsomeness to her beauty and suffer an attack of near suicidal inadequacy” explained the advisor.

My eyes narrowed, I’d heard that voice before, it was Max Clippart the publicist. Whenever a celebrity is caught masturbating whilst dressed as a rubber chicken, its Max they call to ‘represent’ them.

Papa slumps looking defeated.

“There is a solution....” says Max with an insincere hesitation.

“There is?”

“What I am about to tell you may come as a bit of a shock.”

“Go on”

“There are people around, some of them Hollywood stars, who aren’t human; people who are likely to be immune to Psyche’s beauty.”

“But, that’s impossible, there are no such things as aliens” gasps Papa

“How do you think Star Wars got made? They certainly didn’t use CGI. Here, I’ve taken the liberty of selecting a couple of suitable candidates”

“You want my daughter to marry some, some monster!”

“Perhaps you’d like to review their files first? Obviously I was selecting on the basis of appearing human and of course being a benefit to your daughter’s singing career.” says Max handing over the files

I switch my un-visibility full on and wander over to take a look at the two candidate’s files.

Legolas and Sam Gamgee, Hollywood stars both, and looking for roles now that the Lord of the Rings gravy train has stopped. My hopes rise, both of these are non-human. I am pretty sure I can argue a case that not being human counts as ‘someone inappropriate’ as far as Mom’s demands go.

I’d just got back behind the curtain when Psyche herself enters the room.

Snap! Just like that all my newly formed plans went into full reverse. Instead of thinking about matchmaking Psyche with that gormless elf or his hairy toed pal, my plans now centered around ways to eliminate the competition.

I know it’s corny and old fashioned but it really was, like, first love at first sight.

Now it’s fair to say I’ve been around the block a few times, If someone said to me ‘love at first sight’ my first reaction is to look for an incubus, succubus, hypnotist, cheerleader or other critter with mind-powers.

This was different, even when you’re rubbing your nose between a succubus’ tits you ‘know’ that she’s messing with your mind. With Psyche there was neither an un-natural aura nor Godly glamour, she has no power other than being the most beautiful human in the world.

I can see now why Mom hates her, Mom’s beauty isn’t natural and probably requires effort to maintain, Psyche on the other hand just ‘is’ beauty. To the personification of feminine love not being most beautiful must really sting.

Quickly I glance down at my Mr. 9 inch; good! He’s standing erect not getting shrivelled like poor Georgio’s. It looks like Max Clippart is right on, non-humans do stand a chance with Psyche.

Quickly I switch my un-visibility full on and go over to the desk, a flip of a switch causes a PC encased in mahogany to unfold from Papa’s desk. A fast search finds Word and a wizard for doing pre-set invitations.

A few minutes later, (closer to an hour including re-writes) and, like, there you go. I printed the document and slipped it into the buff folder that Max had put on the desk. The original contents of the folder went straight into the desks built in shredder; poor ol’ Legolas will have to find someone else.

Having done all that, I headed back to my hiding place. I was just getting settled when I noticed the drool and had to nip back out to clean them up. It’s one of the unfortunate side effects, leave a human looking at The Cupid for like more than five minutes and they get into the drooling. I am really mouth watering and likable you know, but like, the drooling leaves a nasty stain.

So..anyway, back to business,. I get back out of sight and release my hold over them.

Max blinks and looks at the remaining folder.

“That’s strange” he picks up the doctored folder and checks the contents.

“It seems Psyche, that you have a mystery lover. This isn’t the CV of the potential suitor I had intended to show you and your father”

“Another one? This is getting tedious you know. That Giorgio boy didn’t even get his shirt off, he took one look at me and fled” says Psyche sounding tearful and annoyed.

“Well I think we can be certain your mystery admirer is a little different. I had intended to provide your father with files on two Hollywood stars that had expressed an interest in meeting you. Who ever he is, he managed to remove the files and replace them with this....... whilst we were talking just this moment. he may not be able to spell ‘affectionate’, he may not even be human, but I think you should consider him."”

He hands Psyche my note.

Dearest Psyche

You don’t need to bother with those chumps Max was going to show you, they’re only interested coz you’d further there carreers.

I on the other hand fell in love with you the moment I saw you. If you would like to meet me, be on the cliffes above the Gulf of Geras at midnight in three days time.

Your Effectionate admirer.

PS I can assure you that I won’t suffer from Giorgio’s ‘little’ problem.

“Not...human?” asks Psyche, sounding intrigued “Ok.. Set it up”

I’m in luck; she’s thinking ‘Vulcan’ rather than ‘Predator’ or ‘Borg’

“I don’t know. If you really want to meet this...this alien, I would want a chaperone along.”

“Daaaddy! You said the same about the first three boys I tried to date”

“I would not want anything ‘inappropriate’ to happen. A girl’s wedding night should be a special time and....”

“Oh for heavens sake! You are, like, so 20th century Daddy.”

Quickly I turn the un-visibility back on and write a second note, which I then place in Psyche’s delicate hand

Dearest Psyche

I respect your father’s wishes. Bring a priest and we can, get married straight off. I ask only that the guests and Priest be blindfold so that my identity remain a secret.

Your Affectionate Admiror

They argued some more over whether or not Psyche should marry some unknown guy effectively on a first date. Fortunately for me Psyche isn’t the sort to back down and getting told ‘no’ by Papa just made her more determined.

As for me, I’m like, behind the curtain thinking, gonna get laid, gonna get laid.

It’s ironic I’ve watched hundreds of love-drugged couples getting it on, but I’m still technically a virgin... if you don’t count that time that I was a penis-tentacled monster; that wasn’t really me anyway and I can’t remember what I did.

Exotix Bar, the present

“So? You had several days you could have sent invites to us” says Phil

“I didn’t dare. Mom, I mean Aphrodite, she’s, like, a Goddess. I had no idea whether or not she had any of that omniscience thing going on.” I explain.

This time I get away with the big fat lie, the truth is I was so much in love It never occurred to me to invite anyone. As far as I was concerned the wedding was just a hurdle to overcome before I got down to the making wild passionate love with Psyche.

“Obviously the wedding went without a hitch then?” asks Mark the Yucca

“Pretty much. Most of the problems started after we got married” I admitted glumly

“No surprise there. What happened Dougy?”

“Well first up I needed a love nest, I considered finding some local tycoon and love darting him and a sheep. But then it occurred to me that there’d be servants, family and acquaintances that would also need to disappear. I figured the creation of an exponentially growing flock of satyrs and nymphs, like, wouldn’t do.

In the end I just robbed the Turkish National Gold Repository and gave BarKeep the bullion. In return I’ve acquired the keys to The Elvis’s old rooms.”

“You have the keys to the Rumpus Rooms” gasps Mark impressed

“Great way to impress a girl. Did Psyche know her new home used to house a harem and was paid for with stolen gold” says Phil, his voice heavy with irony.

“Nope, that hasn’t come up yet. The main problem has been the rest of her fucking Babe Band trying to find out who she married...and now they know.

The Wedding Cliff, Gulf of Geras

So, there I am perched above the natural amphitheatre that overlooks the Gulf of Geras. The wedding party arrives, approximately twenty people dressed in their best suits.

I’d been giving this whole marriage ceremony a lot of thought, how to interact with the priest whilst remaining unseen? Actually it was dead easy, a pen and some post-it notes were all I needed.

As I had no idea what religion the service would be in I also brought my own light bulb just in case. If you don’t know about the whole light bulb ritual go ask a Rabbi.

Once I’m satisfied they are all set up I make my big entrance hitting the whole group with my un-visibility aura. Everyone turns to watch me, cocks forming tents in their pants, the ladies clenching down-below as things become moist. Their minds are so focused on my hot body that they’ll never remember seeing a thing.

I place the first post-it notes on the priest’s forehead and then launch myself into the air so that I’m not in line of sight.

They awaken, the men adjust their dress and the ladies blush stoically. There’s consternation about the post-it which read:—

*I am here. Please assume you’ve done the ‘Do you take...?’ bit and that I said ‘I Do’.*

Shrugging, the priest turns to Psyche and says “Do you Helen Osnasos take...take? Um?...

“My Affectionate Admirer...Yes. I do” provides Psyche.

There were a few more post-it responses and some singing (I forgot to do the lightbulb thing)...and then it was time for our big exit.

I glided down, grabbed Psyche in my arms and dived over the precipice. Before any of them could react, I’d looped back toward the cliff face and used the entry pentagram to take us straight to the Rumpus Rooms.

Now, you’ve all heard of Elvis’s Rumpus Rooms right? Wrong! That mock-up they have in Gracelands is just a dimensional entry portal, the real Rumpus Rooms are much much more impressive. Think Olympus-home-of the-Gods after a makeover by Pussy Parlor PLC.

The first thing I notice is a black S&M collar poking out from under a cloud-cushion. It had inch long needle spikes on the inside; that Elvis...really exotic tastes. Quickly I rearranged the cloud so that the collar wasn’t visible.

I’d assumed that Barkeep would have had the rooms cleaned before I arrived, and had a sinking feeling as I wondered what other embarrassingly exotic sex aids had been left lying about.

Psyche bumps into a Doric column that someone left in the middle of the room, I’d forgotten that she’s got that blindfold on.

“Ouch!”

“Are you alright? Not hurt at all? I’m sorry I should have warned you that was there. Uh can I get you a drink?” Yep I’m babbling.

“You’re really quite young aren’t you” deduces Psyche.

“I’m 18!” I snap... And then remember I’m supposed to be seducing her. “Uhm, sorry. It’s just I look and sound younger, I get bugged for ID and shit”

She laughs. It’s a beautiful laugh, a laugh I could fall in love with if I wasn’t already in love with her.

“So that’s it! You’re a Hobbit, figured my Papa would object to an alien with hairy feet I suppose.”

“I am NOT a feking Hobbit. Your man Max was trying to set you up with one, not me.” I reply trying to make it sound like I’m amused rather than offended by the comparison.

Then I come up with a cunning plan for getting some free foreplay.

“I know this whole ‘not knowing who I am’ is a real hang-nail. But you’re just goin’ to have to trust me...its necessary. I...I realize you’ve taken a lot on trust, a hell of a lot actually, but I’m really not a monster. Here...” I take her hand and place it on my broad pectoral muscle “See if you can ‘feel’ anything monstrous.”

I was half expecting her hand to run down over my six pack to where my Mr. 9 inch was waiting; instead her hand drifted up to my face obviously looking for brow-ridges, horns or pointy ears.

I kissed her fingers as she explored the shape of my nose and my beardless chin.

Every instinct was saying ‘get it on’; instead I waited… I didn’t want to seem like a dog that’s trying to fuck someone’s leg.

The exploration of my body went on, checking my hair, my biceps, my hands and then (finally!) down to my Mr. 9 inch.

“Ooh!” She gasps as she touches her first erection and realizes just exactly what a prize-winning pole I’ve got.

I have to admit I’m playing this game with a few built in advantages, It may seem to you like I’ve got an over inflated opinion of myself, but like, I really do have a perfect body.

And if Mom is right then I’m an archetype.... she can’t see, but those sensitive fingers are sending tiny ‘you are touching perfection’ messages up her arm and straight into her brain.

She didn’t do much with my Mr. 9 inch (to my disappointment), instead moving on to check my butt for a tail and then my legs for fur and feet for hooves. Fortunately the ‘human’s aren’t allowed to notice weird-shit’ effect is working overtime and her hands never go anywhere near my rather fine white feathered wings.

“Impressive, that’s the first time...” she blushes pretty and then confesses “I don’t know, its like I’m The Medusa or something, only instead of turning to stone, my boyfriends important parts turned to jelly. I must seem so much like such a whore agreeing to marry just for the slightest chance that you’d be different.”

“Of course not! You could never be a whore!” I deny vehemently.

I swiftly kick an inflatable sheep with real...erh-umm.. behind a cloud. That Elvis, strange strange tastes.

“Thank you” replies Psyche; that smile again!

“So uh...what shall we do? Talk? Watch a movie? I can send out for food”

Anyone who knows me, knows that for a reincarnated love god I am truly crap at chatting up.

“Maybe later” says Psyche, grabbing the back of my neck and pulling me into a passionately wild kiss.

I guess all those little ‘sexy-perfection’ messages being sent by her sense of touch had done the trick... that and she’d been needing a real man for several years.

Three days. I am not kidding you! We went at it for three whole days! Now unlike a normal human I don’t have any limit on how many orgasms I can have in a day...I stopped counting after twenty and that was just day one.

Finally somewhere between days one and two she fell asleep wrapped in my arms and wings, her body slick with sweat and other fluids.

I used the opportunity to summon the Elves and ordered them to clean away the S&M gear and that rubber sheep.

Elves? Alright, technically they are Elvisoids, or Servants of The King as they prefer to be called. They come free with the Rumpus Rooms and are supposed to keep it tidy, I guess they’d either got lazy after Elvis’ demise or they’d been using the facilities themselves...eew!

Anyhow; finally it comes to the point where my beloved Psyche’s finally gotten tired of sex with a blindfold on and begins thinking about other things...like sex without a blindfold. No, Seriously, she wanted a bit of daylight and was feeling guilty about not having phoned home.

“Please Nine-inch, I can’t spend all the time wearing a blindfold, besides this one needs a wash.”

“Of course my love; Just give me a few moments to vanish...I’ll return after dark. Give the elves anything you need cleaning.”

What? Nine-Inch? Well she couldn’t call me Dougy or Cupid and I guess I must have been talking to myself at some point.

“Must you leave, my beloved?” she asks doing some things that almost make me forget myself.

“Yes” says I, in a voice that expresses all the anguish I feel at our separation. I desperately want to tell her the whole story but I daren’t, the memory of Mom plucking me like a turkey is still like, way fresh.

Before she could do anything else to change my mind I used the portal and hit the beaches for a short rampage. I was in cloud-nine-inch and wanted everyone to be as happy as I was right then.

By evening I’d pretty much shot everyone on the beach. Needless to say the aura of Lesbos was also having its effect, I figure that from a baseline of a 90% hetero beach population, it ended up 80% lesbian 15% gay and 5% mermaid.

Meanwhile back in the Rumpus Rooms my married life had just started to turn into a typical Cupid Boy train wreck.

Psyche’d phoned her ‘sisters’ in the band, Soul-Babe and Spirit-Babe, and told them all about my sexual prowess and the whole blindfold thing.

Psyche’s like, ‘he’s hot in bed’

And Soul-Babe’s like, ‘He’s Probably a vampire’

And Spirit Babe’s like, ‘He could be a werewolf’

And Psyche’s like, ‘No Way!’

And they’re like, ‘Way!’

Anyhow, first I get of any of this is later that evening, Psyche’s prepared dinner for me...Pizza heavy on the garlic, served on Elvis’s best silver cutlery (the set with the phallic handle motif) and some bottled water which I guess had been blessed.

Well, naturally I passed their ‘test’ without even noticing, all I saw was Psyche looking relieved about something. I guess it’s lucky she didn’t try feeding me salad; my lettuce allergy is right up there in the Vampire/Garlic league.

She’s so happy I’m not a werewolf or vampire that we get straight back into the whole getting it on business. I guess using all that lust venom during the day must have tired me out a bit, I fell asleep in her arms; Big mistake!

So there I was dreaming about making love when suddenly I feel this burning sensation on my shoulder and wake up screaming.

Psyche had gotten a candle and was taking a good look at me. I guess a drop of wax must have hit me, even asleep my beauty had nearly got her fully entranced and the candle had lolled, forgotten in her hand.

“You’re...you’re Cupid!” she gasps

“Well yeah; thanks for fucking trusting me” says I, feeling hurt and betrayed “I mean wearing the fucking blindfold wasn’t much to ask!”

“Well since you bring it up...” she says bristling

We then had our first lovers argument...oh joy! Anyhow cushions got thrown, voices raised and in the end I left slamming the inter-dimensional portal on my way out.

Exotix Bar, the present

“So what did you do to make up?” asks Mark the Yucca

“Nothing yet, that was, like, day before yesterday”

“So you didn’t beg forgiveness and buy her a present within the 2-day safe zone?”

“The what?”

Phil and Mark exchange a glance.

“Screwed?” says Phil

“Definitely” agrees Mark

“What are talking about?”

“You are expected to apologize for being wrong within 48 hours. Its all in the Rough Guide to Not Getting Divorced” Explains Mark patiently

“Even if you were in the right” adds Phil

“She’s probably already seeing a divorce lawyer”

“WHAT?!” I cry, I’m half out the chair before he replies.

“Ha, ha! Psych!” smirks Phil “But seriously you’d better buy a present and get some grovelling practice in.”

I’m just taking a deep breath to tell them exactly what I think when a small figure dressed in a white sequined jumpsuit with a high collar and wearing a parachute approaches the table.

Its one of the Elves...sorry... Servants of the King, a young one, looking about twelve.

“Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty tonight? Ladies and Gentlemen, Psyche has left the building” It says.

Its an odd thing about Elves, they speak using phrases and lyrics associated with Elvis, its almost a foreign language.

“She’s left the Rumpus Rooms?”

“Are you lonesome tonight. Ladies and Gentlemen, Psyche has left the building” It says again slowly and loudly.

“Where’d she go?” I say, beginning to panic and thinking about lawyers.

“Hide in the kitchen, hide in the hall, Try to take a tiger from her daddies side, that’s how love is goint to keep you tied.” It replies cryptically

“So she’s gone home to daddy. Did she look upset?” says Phil deducing the meaning.

“Heartbreak Hotel, Yes-sir-ee, uh, uh, thank you very much” It replies looking mornful.

Before we get any further there’s a ripping noise as a dimensional portal forms overhead. A second Elve drops through hitting the floor hard and gathering up its parachute.

The two Elves hold a quick chittering conversation that my universal translation sense can’t even follow. The new arrival passes a newspaper to the original who looks at it briefly and then hands it to me.

“Bummer” it says.

It’s the first time I’ve heard one use a non-lyrical word.

Pop Stars in Suicide Pact Horror.

Earlier today two members top band Atomic Babes took their own lives in bizarre circumstance.

Soul-Babe and Spirit-Babe threw themselves from the Cliffes of Geras shouting ‘She didn’t deserve you Cupid! take me instead’. Remaining Band member Psyche-Babe is reportedly heartbroken and seeking solace in religion.

“Oh boy, Any guesses which Goddess she’s likely to be seeking solace with.” comments Phil, as usual he’s a couple of steps ahead.

“Oh SHIT!” is all I can manage.

“Mark, get the others; Don’t worry Dougy...I have a plan” reassures Phil, taking charge.

“A cunning plan, more cunning than Plan D?” I ask, recalling the plan of his that involved me throwing office equipment at a penis tentacled biohazard the size of a small condo.

“Gimme a break, that could’ve worked. Besides, with the whole team on your side how can we fail to save your marriage?”

How indeed?