tagNonHumanThe Making of a Goddess Ch. 03

The Making of a Goddess Ch. 03


"Who the hell are you?"

"What do you mean, mortal? I am Apollo."

Ariadne was overcome with a wave of nausea. When the door had opened, she'd thought the man was her god returning.

So, he's our god now, is he? her inner voice scoffed. You don't even like him, let alone know who he is.

"I'm thinking about it, okay?" she grumped.

"I assure you, woman, I am the sun god." Ariadne glared up at him. Why did everyone assume she was talking to them when she spoke aloud?

Because there's no one else around, Ari.


"Do you doubt me, woman?"

Ariadne glared up at the beautiful god. "Stop calling me 'woman.' I am not impressed by your macho attitude; I have a name."

Apollo stared at her in shock for a moment before he laughed. His abdominal muscles bunched enticingly. He seemed genuinely pleased by her acerbic reaction and brushed a lank tendril out of her eyes. "What is your name?"


"Ah; I've heard of you."

"You have? How?"

"Well, you were transformed into a goddess after being abandoned by Theseus." Apollo seemed genuinely confused that she didn't recognize her own myth. "Don't you remember it?"

"Well, no... No... Of course not. I wasn't alive then. My great-great-great-great-grandmother wasn't even alive then. I mean, now. Whenever it is." She paced in a tight circle, thinking hard. "I mean, I'd know if I were a goddess, right? I'd have all those powers and stuff. I'd live forever." She glanced sharply at Phoebus. "I know I'd remember living forever."

"Hmm. Your logic is impeccable. You cannot be that woman." Apollo gave her a half-grin, his eyes twinkling. Suddenly, he stiffened, glaring over her shoulder.

"What in the blood are you doing here, Apollo?"

Ari spun to face the dark god. Have you figured out who he is yet?

"No. You?" The two gods- fortunately- didn't even glance at her; they were too busy shouting at each other.


"You have?" But she'd spoken too loudly; they'd noticed her.

"Woman, you must decide," the dark god growled. "Apollo or me." His hands were clenched, and Ari got the distinct impression that he really wanted to be gripping a sword so he could cut Apollo to bits.

Or maybe, her conscience laughed, blast him to smithereens with a bolt of lightning?

Ariadne ignored her inner dialogue and focused on the two well-sculpted men standing on either side of her. She could tell they were about to tear each other apart.

"You tricked her into sex," Ares snarled in Greek.

"Possibly. But at least I know her name," Apollo sneered back.

"You lie." Apollo's face grew stormy, and the light from the windows at the end of the hall vanished.

"Ariadne?" Phoebus Apollo said softly.

"Hmm?" The mortal woman focused with him; with difficulty, she shifted focus to his face, entirely missing the satisfied smirk Apollo threw at Ares.

"Which one of us do you prefer?"

She looked alarmed for a moment, color creeping into her cheeks. She glanced from one god to the other; then her expression relaxed. Both Ares and Apollo drew themselves up, preening, unaccustomed to having to argue over a mortal. A nymph, yes. Aphrodite, yes. But a human woman? Not in a million years. And they should know.

"I choose... Neither of you."

"What?" Both gods exclaimed simultaneously.

"Neither of you," Ariadne repeated, feeling smug. She'd given what she deemed the perfect answer. "You see," she said in her most pedantic voice, "you both are incredibly sexy, but you-" she indicated the dark god "-trapped me in your room and however accidentally, allowed Hermes to try and poison me." The dark god looked taken aback, and took a breath to yell something, but Ariadne cut him off. "And you-" she jabbed her finger at Apollo "-tricked me into thinking you were him, when you knew I'd just walked in Aphrodite's potion. Don't shake your head at me, I know you did."

Both gods were speechless- but not enraged; thank heavens.

"In conclusion, I choose neither the jailer nor the trickster. And I would like pen and paper." Before Ares could register that it was a mortal who commanded him, a "pen" and a sheet of parchment had appeared in his hand.

"I have things to do," he snapped at Apollo, turned on his heel, and disappeared in a cloud of black smoke.

The mortal Ariadne barely gave Phoebus a backwards glance as she traipsed back into Ares' chambers, her generous backside quivering with her brisk step. Apollo rolled his eyes at mortal folly and also disappeared, in a puff of gold dust.


Ari sat down on the bed, wisely avoiding the lust potion on the floor. She wrapped a fur around her shoulders and snuggled against the headboard, using a pillow to protect her back from the ebony bas-relief battle scene on it. She gingerly licked the tip of the pen, and began writing, her script brisk and her letters joined. It was a librarian's handwriting.

She was compiling a list: one of her favorite things to do. A list of every male, Greek god she could think of.
















That was it. Those eight were all the major gods she could remember. She was sure there were more. Ari stared at the short list, and struck out the ones she had already met, that weren't the dark god.






That left five. She struck out Hephaestos because the dark god had perfectly formed legs. So, four. One lived at the bottom of the sea but- she reasoned to herself- that didn't mean he didn't hang out at Olympus.


"What is the matter?" Hera said, her tone exasperated. "Is it not enough that you had your way with the mortal, but you must deny your brother as well?"

Ares bit off a scathing remark about how his brother needed someone to deny him, continuing instead to glare into the jug of wine he'd pulled over. He considered himself to be in the same situation as the flask: it was half drunk, and he was half drunk.

"More wine, brother?" Dionysus snickered in his ear. "You know, that's my most potent stuff." Ares grunted. Dionysus' grin bordered on malevolent, and he broke into a laugh. "Ahahahaha."

"Oh, do shut up, Dion," Hera snapped.


Ariadne was curled on her side, the velvet blanket drawn up to her chin. She was tired, but couldn't manage to sleep. It was night, and Artemis was high in the sky.

She'd been left alone since the afternoon. The dark god had left food outside the door, which had remained unlocked. But Ari didn't feel like leaving.

Ariadne sighed heavily. She'd been captured at night by the dark god, had sex with him the next afternoon; woken up in the morning on the floor with Aphrodite glaring daggers at her, then had sex with the god of the sun that very afternoon. And now it was nighttime, and she was feeling totally bewildered.

And kinda sore.

She'd wracked her brain as to who the dark god could be. She had decided he wasn't Zeus, king of the gods because, (1) nobody seemed to obey this guy, (2) she was sure Zeus wouldn't be so broodingly handsome and, (3) her inner voice had suggested Zeus specifically at several occasions.

The door opened slightly, a swath of gold torchlight outlining the dark god's silhouette. Ariadne quickly closed her eyes and deepened her breathing.

He peeled off his leather pants and linen tunic, sliding into the bed totally naked. He seemed to pause before wrapping his arms around her and nudging one muscular thigh between hers.

Ariadne was just settling down to sleep when she felt his erection nudging against her; her back stiffened and she sucked in a lungful of air. Before she knew it, she was rolled onto her back, and the god came to rest snugly between her thighs.

"I knew you weren't really asleep," he said smugly. Her cheeks flushed and Ari wished she'd asked for a pair of underwear along with the paper.

Why? the inner voice laughed. He'd just tear them off again.

"Yeah," she snapped, "like we'll ever have sex again." Too late, she realized she'd spoken aloud.

The god reared up above her, like he was doing push-ups. She could tell by the way he held himself above her that he didn't like what she'd said.

"Did I not please you, Ariadne?" The way he said her name- Ah-ree-ad-nay- sent excited chills down her spine.

"Oh yeah," was the husky reply. Ares could tell she liked hearing her name on his tongue. He, on the other hand, preferred something more substantial than her name.

Ares ran his fingers through her thick hair. She was so different from every other mortal. Granted, most mortals he came in contact with were at least partially covered in blood and mud.

He covered her mouth with his, letting his body relax against hers. Her tongue tickled the seam of his lips, and he allowed her access, his hands framing her face.

Ariadne sighed into him, sending tingles down to her toes when he sent her back refreshed air. They shared breath as their tongues melded.

After a few minutes of this, in which the proximity of their various- ahem- parts had increased and Ari had her legs securely wrapped around his waist, he pulled away, his breathing ragged and his tangled hair even more mussed. "So, Ariadne," he rasped, "what was it that you were saying about no sex?"

Ariadne grinned up at him, "Forget I said anything." She tugged his head back down, her fingers twisted in his dark hair. She sucked his lower lip into her mouth, rubbing her breasts against his chest at the same time. He groaned appreciatively and slowly sunk into her.

Ares was once again bowled over by her passionate reaction. She was slick and ready for him. Thrusting slowly, he pushed up onto his arms again, watching her face.

Ariadne reflected that neither of her boyfriends had been this good. But they were mortal, weren't they? Feeling that sex was no time for voices, she blocked out her inner who-ever.

Knowing that it would shatter his control, she began meeting his thrusts, begging with her body for him to pick up the pace. He moaned into her mouth, automatically quickening his plunging.

Ariadne felt suddenly nauseous. She stilled, her body instantly covered with chill sweat. Equally as suddenly, she let out a burst of giggles. She then fell back into herself and let out a moan of impatience.

Ares had witnessed this (how could he not? They're practically joined at the hip... well, a little lower.) in horror. What in the blood was wrong with the mortal? But then she was pushing her breasts against him and whimpering, and Ares decided it was a figment of his imagination. Unfortunately, what he didn't realize, was that gods have little, if any, imagination.

Ari relaxed a little as he picked up his rhythm again. Passion rose up in her, her breasts tingled, and she felt precariously close to the edge. The dark god took one nipple into his mouth, the stubble around his lips sending shocks of pleasure all over.

She could feel a thick tingle sliding up her spine. Her arms shot out, gripping the god's wrists as they supported his weight. She pressed one tendon and felt the wrist collapse, and before the god knew what she was doing, she'd rolled him onto his back, straddling his trim waist.

"Mmm," she whispered as she stared down at him. "That's better."

Ares was confused: the woman- Ariadne- had not seemed so assertive, even under the lust potion. "Ariadne." She shivered, a good sign.

"Don't call me that," she growled. He saw anger flare in her eyes along with the passion. He instinctively wrapped his fingers around her waist, guiding her. The mortal braced her hands on his chest, the pale skin stark on his tanned chest, flexing her hips. "Call me-" she gasped her pleasure "-Grace."


"Mmm, yes." She bucked against him, raking her nails down his arms, letting her fingers rest on his hands.

Ares mentally shrugged. Maybe it was her Roman name.

He pushed up, losing himself in her. All thought had passed from both of their minds. Their bodies ground together, Ares' power crackling over both of them in green-gray sparks.

If sex were music, this would be something distinctly middle-eastern with huge drums pounding the tempo, with something like a sitar rolling in the harmony. If sex were music in Hollywood, this would have a steamy guitar or saxophone, and the theme to JAWS rumbling in the background.

Ares suddenly felt that he was being drawn to a place he didn't really want to go. This was extremely odd because he'd been thinking about the mortal all day, barely being able to not go to her and fuck her senseless.

But now, he felt the need to get as far away as possible. Maybe a bit of the JAWS theme was seeping into his mind.

"Don't fight it," Grace growled. Her voice was definitely not the same, and if he'd had any human instinct, he'd be fighting for his life.

"Why should I?" Ares whispered back. She arced her back, releasing a moan.

She screamed suddenly, her pleasure peaking abruptly. Ares was pulled into orgasm, the intensity nearly painful, but his heart- so to speak- wasn't in it. There was only release, no pleasure. Ares let out a grunt as his cum was spilled into the mortal.

Grace licked her lips in a most satisfied way. She knew the god had not enjoyed it as much as she. Stupid bitch, she thought to herself. Ari? I know you're there.

What do you want?

I've had him. Nothing special.

Liar. You liked it a lot.


I hate you.

Grace laughed to herself. I think I'll stay here a while longer.


"Grace? You are not asleep?" The god's voice rumbled behind her. Then his voice took on a steelier edge, "Where is Ariadne?"


"Didn't she tell you?" Grace smiled. "I am Ariadne. And she's me. We're schizophrenic."

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