tagNonHumanCurse of Aphrodite

Curse of Aphrodite


The docks down at pier nine were almost abandoned and if it weren't for the courier ship being unloaded there would no signs of life here. The ship looked like one of those giant oil tankers that sit low in the water. It smelled of salt, seaweed and cantankerous old men that spend most of their time on land in dark musty bars.

A hollow nasty air drifted around it, polluting any chance of a nice evening for Joseph. He waited near the large vessel, a cigarette dangling from his lower lip, his mind lost in contemplative thought. He hated using cargo ships like this, they made him feel like he dealt in children, narcotics or frozen organs. It felt as if at any moment inspectors would come barreling around the corner like in a bad cop show.

The precious cargo of the tanker-like ship was boxed and boarded up, almost ready to see the aftermath of World War 2. Too many wonderful pieces of art were lost during that horrible event and it took Joe almost five years to locate this particular piece of history. He almost expected it to be decorating some small Jewish woman's porch or back yard. The woman was actually Polish.

It always amused Joe the quaint nature of the universe.

During his scouring of Europe he had come across a few other artifacts, left over from World War two, that had been thought to be lost forever. Most of the treasures were Roman and Grecian artifacts that beyond WW2 were just thought to not exist anymore. Statues, icons to the gods of old. Tomes of knowledge and paintings of astounding beauty. All would have never come back if it hadn't been for his relentless zeal to collect them.

Somebody else may have found them, but it could have been decades longer before it happened. Joe was a being of the moment, of the now. He pursued the things he desired. He didn't want to hit eighty and find that everything he had achieved so for would fall on blind, old eyes. He wanted to see ancient works of artistry with bold new eyes. Eyes that picked up the minute cracks, the slight wear of time. Eyes that saw the perfect craftsmanship displayed within each curve, dip and edge.

This latest one was his favorite, it was something that should not exist. Made of green marble it was a monument to Aphrodite, goddess of love. The problem with this piece was that although it was inscribed in old Grecian as being Aphrodite, the statue was definitely that of a man.

"A rather well endowed one at that..." Joe mused this to himself, standing there waiting for his crate to be moved over the edge of the boat.

It was possible that some creative sculptor thought that the god of love could look both male and female. This thing was elegant, though, done by an amazing talent. Other than being in marble you would swear it was another person, staring back at you. With those dead, empty eyes.

The statue had survived amazingly well, too. Dating had put it at nearly two millennium old, but it appeared as if it had been carved within the last fifty years. This was the find of a lifetime, his greatest find. Sure, museums don't pay well, but private buyers at auctions do. That was why he did this, find a wonderful piece like this and auction it off. That's where the real money was and fuck the general public. With a wife like his, he couldn't afford to live a pauper's life.

The crane was moving the box, easing out over the edge of the ship and down to the pier. It would still need to be forklifted into the back of his van, but it was so close. He had gone through the whole hassle of shipping it back to the states. Not just the states but to San Francisco. Would have been cheaper had he lived in New York. He just loved this city, though, and had the funds needed to live here.

He heard a slight bump on the pier when the crate touched down. He dropped his cigarette down and smashed it out with the heel of his shoe. Walking over to the crate he could see a bit of the hay protruding out of the edges. Packing material eventually began to protrude, sometimes even out of the most well put together crates.

He ran his hand along the edges, a splinter shooting into the palm of his hand. No cracks, no tamper marks, he thought to himself as he dug out the small piece of wood. A smile worked onto his face as he thought of how much he might make at the auction on his anatomically correct friend. Blood started to lightly pour out of the wound on his hand.

He waved the forklift over to haul it the rest of the way to his van. Joe was beyond proud of himself tonight, digging his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket, "Five fucking years, but it was all worth it. Even that wench of a wife." His zippo lit up under his thumb, the flame brought to the tip of his cigarette.

He looked at the crate, being moved into the van, the smile never leaving his face. Smoke creeped out of the corners of his grin, running along the sides of his face. He felt so immensely happy, perhaps the queen bitch would even fuck him tonight in appreciation of what he's brought home.


It was well past midnight when he had gotten home, driving his black BMW, the van with his newest treasure was following him closely. Joe didn't speed, not because of the cops but because he didn't want that van out of his sight for a second. Constantly his eyes darted up to the rear view mirror to make sure the blocky vehicle hadn't left its pursuit.

His car glided up the driveway and entered his garage, the powerful engine purring for just a few more moments before he shut it off. Joseph had a back entrance that went straight to his den, he had it built just for moving his objects of love into and out of his home. The van pulled up around the side and to the patio in back. Joe felt a rush as the movers started pulling his giant crate out of the back.

Four guys had to cart it into his den, making sure that the "this side up" arrow still pointed in the correct direction. Bits of hay poked out of the edges of the crate. Joe tipped each of them forty dollars then showed them the way out.

After shutting the outside doors to his den he turned to the tall crate. He grabbed the crowbar on his desk, placed there just for this purpose. He jammed it into the box, tearing off the panels, letting them fall to floor. Loud thuds came with each, waking up his booze sedated wife. Joe began to gain a powerful erection with each bit he uncovered of the statue.

He had gained just as powerful of one when he had first seen the statue. It was almost unbidden. He wasn't gay, but for some reason when he saw this statue it turned him on like nothing ever had before. As Joe peeled away the hay from the statue his erection grew in girth and strength. It was easily seen straining against the crotch of his pants.

His wife, Anna, walked in to his den, a bottle in her left hand and a cigarette in her right. She was naked, other than a bathrobe that she seemed to refuse to close. Her large breasts poked out the front, the sides of the robe curving around them. A small patch of hair could be seen on her crotch, nicely trimmed. Her long bronze hair flowed down around her shoulders.

She was a dame to kill for, though not to die for.

He could smell her as she came closer to him, she smelled of bourbon and cheap sex. Probably what she was doing all day, possibly with an employee of his. He never cared, she was his wife by circumstance. A marriage of convenience. He had more than enough money to cover her vast spending, and when Anna sobered up she was perfect to drape over his shoulder at social gatherings.

Anna saw the statue under the hay, a man of marble, amazingly well crafted. The object looked so real, like a human frozen in time. She felt an itch grow in her crotch the more she looked at it, a wetness dampening her legs. The statue was turning her on, the well hung, perfectly proportioned obelisk of a man.

Joe peeled off the last bits of hay, his erection at full attention now. Before him resided a goddess in male form. Venus, Aphrodite built like a man. The man must be six foot five, but the statue itself was no more than six foot. Aphrodite was hunched over, muscles in his back rippled out, one massive arm wrapped around his chest and the other one resting hand on thigh. A mane of long hair flowed solid down his back, his face contorted into a bestial snarl. Viscous, teeth shown from one corner of the mouth. A face, though, as smooth as hard silk.

Anna, Joe's wife, looked longingly at the statue. To her mind images of a beauty and a beast combining ran rampant. Tales Joe had told her of the almighty god Zeus turning into a bull, violating some girl, rose to mind. This is what their child would have looked like, she thought amusingly to herself, this is the son of a bull god.

Joe had been perplexed as to why somebody would have made a statue of the goddess of love in male form, but looking upon it he felt it was justified. Men scared to death of losing their heterosexuality would worship this sightly god. Joe himself, was sporting the largest hard on he had ever had.

Anna herself had forgotten about her cigarette, ashes falling to the floor then shortly after the butt of it. The hand that had been holding the cancer stick had been crawling down her own curves to her drenched pussy. She had never felt this wet before, her hand was covered in her juices after only a few short moments.

Joe looked over his shoulder at the woman, bare skinned, standing behind him. He never really cared that the marriage was a facade for their affairs, especially since times came and went that they actually fucked. Like beasts tearing at each other in a panic. He looked at her eyes and saw the burning lust there, he saw the desire in them. He felt his lust for her flesh build more, this close to the statue he felt like a god of sex and this was his new vessel to infest. The stink of another man surrounding her didn't bother him in the least.

He grabbed the bottle of bourbon out of her hand, noticed that the other was massaging a very wet pussy. He took a swig out of the bottle, placing it on the table afterwards. Her eyes never left the man encased in stonework. Anna's eyes were fixated on the amazing contours of a god. Those eyes drifted away finally when she felt a man's hand over hers, helping her to massage her juicy cunt.

She looked at her husband, wild fire in his eyes. She must have him now, she must pay homage to the god in stone. On this floor, on his desk, anywhere as long as the man-beast was looking on. Anna planted a kiss on her husband, her free hand groping at the bulge in his pants, grinding it with her palm, feeling it about the shaft with her fingers.

Tongues circled each other in the mouth of one. Lips never parted, breathing became shallow, slow, yet heated with raw passion. Hands left genitals and grasped around each other, an embrace of great yield ensuing. Feeling as if they were to merge.

They stopped only long enough for Joe to take his pants and shirt off. Anna dropped her robe to the ground, her body shimmering in moonlight that poured through the windowed door. Curves shivered and shook as she moved over to her husband. Hips bouncing along with each step. She wanted a man she couldn't even really stand, but she must appease the god.

Joe, now naked, embraced her again, pushing her over to his table. Her ass hit the corner of his table and pressed hard into it. One of her hands held onto the tabletop to brace herself up, as Joe thrust his engorged cock into her. She felt his raging cock like she had never felt any other man's. It tingled her like an electric shock, her torso quaked, shook from the excitement. She felt full, completed, even before he had put the whole thing inside of her. Her neck arched back as he worked each inch inside of her, sliding in with amazing ease.

Such a wet pussy, he thought to himself. His right hand held her by the back as he finished his first push into her. The other hand traced along her stomach up to her face. He began his thrusting, caressing her face, running fingers through hair so soft. He smelled the bourbon on her lips but didn't care. Lost in his passion, trying to serve the goddess in male form.

The table dug deep into the flesh on Anna's ass, each thrust from Joe coming on stronger. Various objects littered about the desk danced and fell to the floor. She bent forward and wrapped her lips around one of his nipples. Her tongue danced around it, licking it, tickling it. Her teeth starting to grind in as each of his thrusts became stronger. Her teeth biting into it, nibbling at it, then biting down hard enough to make him bleed.

Pain coursed through Joe as his wife bit down viciously on his left nipple. Blood seeped from the wound and out of the mouth of his manic lover. His free hand grasped at her throat as he pounded into her pussy harder. Choking her as he rose to climax. Her hands left the table and him as they went to her own throat, trying to break his grasp.

He was too strong at this moment. He felt his semen rising, his thumb pressing harder into her windpipe. Blood was pouring down his chest, matting the hair there. He continued to ram his cock into her spasming cunt to please the statue.

She was good for something, he thought to himself briefly before his climax came. He shot wads of cum deep into her clutching pussy, his pelvis pounded down on her. Strength was within him in the moment of climax, immense power. He felt he could take on the world. His back arched up as the last bit of semen shot deep into her pulsating pussy.

He released his grip and bent over her, his cock still inside, turning slowly limp. His breathing slowed, senses still refused to return. He had a task to do, he had a mission. He pulled her up off the table, his cock sliding free of her cunt. He placed her before the male goddess. Her body was still shuddering from aftershocks of her powerful orgasm but she sensed what Aphrodite wanted of her. She backed up and impaled herself on the statue's huge member inch by inch. It felt like a baseball bat being shoved up her cunt but she didn't stop until the marble cock was all in. Joe grabbed her shoulders and began to move her forward and back so she was being fucked by the full length of Aphrodite's long, thick shaft. His wife screamed out her pleasure as she held onto him for support and began to orgasm continuously.

Joe looked into the statues face and could have sworn he saw a touch of pink there. He wondered what that meant but soon was distracted by his wife's mouth swallowing his cock.


Joe awoke in his own bed, a dry sweat around him. He was frightened, scared to death, but why? His wife, the den, the sound of her screaming. It all flew at him, a horrifying newscast of current events. None of it could have been real, he must have dreamed it. He went to sleep after opening the box, had a few drinks of bourbon to calm his excitement, that's what happened. Images of the statue circled his waking mind. He had to see it, he had to be comforted by it. He had to make sure his master was okay.

Jumping out of bed, making a dash to his den, completely unclothed, dried blood on his chest. He entered the den, saw the statue, felt a lump rise in his throat. At the base of the statue, cast in marble, was his wife, fused to it. Anna had become an addition, a new portion to the obelisk. To remain there forever worshiping the god of love at his feet.

Joe's hand traced his chest and found the dried blood there, traced it up to his wounded nipple. The wound had closed up, not completely healed but somehow closed. He ran to the bathroom, grasped at the edges of the toilet and threw up small bits of dinner he had eaten the night before.

Flushing the toilet, lying on the linoleum, trying to grasp a sense of things, "What happened last night?" he spoke to nobody, almost expecting somebody to answer. Bitch bit my nipple. Drunken crazy whore!" Sweat still permeated his brow, a wild look in his eyes of fear, with a small dash of excitement.

Joe got up and went to the sink, splashed water over his face, trying to regain some sanity. This wasn't a dream, it was real. He had been fucking his wife like an Amazonian, she had bit his nipple then fucked his statue Now she was a part of that damned, beautiful, statue. What the hell was going on?

He regained himself a bit, but not enough. He took a shower, quick one, trying to get all the blood off. Why had his nipple healed so fast, what the fuck was going on? The thought kept running through his mind, speeding along like a bullet. Coming back over the same place again and again.

He left the shower, dried himself off, and headed to his den, still naked but far more clean than before. There in his den was the statue, his wife lying there, head against the male goddesses legs, hand at ankle, legs traveling away completing the base of the marble obelisk.

Something, other than his newly formed wife caught his eye. The statue's huge hard on seemed to be calling to him. Joe couldn't tear his eyes from the erection, he was mesmerized by it, fixated by it. It held a power over him, Joe wanted it, needed it. He wanted it on himself, he wanted to own that dick. He just wanted it.

He unconsciously walked over to the statue and wrapped his hand around the cock extruding from it. He didn't know why, he had never felt like this before, not towards any man, let alone one built out of stone. He stroked the massive cock slowly, feeling the smooth marble in the palm of his hand. He felt it move through his palm like melting ice, slick and cold to the touch. A part of him felt like letting go but he never did.

His lips caressed the cheek of the man made of marble. He felt himself let go of I all inhibition and began to vigorously stroke the cock that had him mesmerized. His tongue tickled the statues cheek. Was it getting color to it? No, it was still that marble green, but Joe swore he saw a touch of pink run over it. He felt the smooth cock change. No that's not possible, it couldn't be.

Keep stroking he heard in his head. Joe obliged. His hand pumped more furiously, massaging Aphrodite's cock better than he had worked any woman's cunt. His tongue raced about the face of the man of marble, trying to clean it. There was a pink color growing, he knew it, he saw it. The statue was getting softer, the cock was still hard, but hard like a dick should be, not like stonework.

Joseph was confused. He didn't understand how this could be possible but he didn't care. He felt the need to stroke off this gargantuan penis. This muscle man of yore, this god of lust and love. His palm stroked flesh and blood, his hand felt warmth there, felt the rise of a burst of cum, felt it follow through the bottom of the shaft up and out.

The statue burst cum out like a stallion as it woke up, as it removed the last vestiges of stonework from itself. The man in the marble shivered, shook as it removed crumbs of marble still clinging to skin. It cleaned away the last bits of a two thousand year old prison with quick swipes of a large hand.

Joe slowly backs away from the man emerging from the statue, fascinated and frightened, scared of what is to come.

Marble man walked off his pedestal, over the marble version of Anna, over to Joe, still wiping away crumbs from himself. "Do you realize how long I have been trapped in that damned thing?"

Joe simply shook his head no, unable to take his eyes off of the now moving trophy he had collected. Bought and paid for as they say.

The well muscled man stretched out, reaching his full six foot five inch height, rubbing the kinks out of everything. He looked at Joe, "Thank you, thank you so very much. I have cramps in muscles I didn't even know existed." The man saw the astonished look on Joe's face, "You do you know who I am, right?" a smile spread across the full lips of the man.

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