The Lion, the Witch, and the Werewolf

by Amy Sumida

  Narcissus slowly undressed on the shore; making it into a striptease. I looked away.

  “Apollo's life if you watch me undress,” Narcissus called to me.

  I gritted my teeth and looked back. “Agreed.”

  “You have to really look, Vervain,” he clarified. “I want you to see my body.”

  “Fine! Do we have a deal?”

  “Deal.” Narcissus grinned.

  Narcissus removed his shirt as he watched me watch him. He trailed his hands over his chest and drew his fingertips across the buds of his nipples. I didn't even experience a twinge of arousal. He gave up on his chest and undid the ties holding up his pants. His erection sprang free and his entire body was revealed. Narcissus palmed his balls and lifted his hand through the golden curls between his legs to stroke his shaft. It was a nice enough dick, but I still wasn't interested. As beautiful as Narcissus was, he couldn't compete with any of the men I loved. I just watched disinterestedly and waited for him to get over himself.

  Narcissus turned around and stroked his hands over his ass. I rolled my eyes. He was only making himself more unattractive to me. I didn't enjoy a man who put himself on display like that. Strippers always left a bad taste in my mouth; it just didn't do it for me. It didn't seem masculine. The way Narcissus was moving looked particularly effeminate.

  Narcissus glanced over his shoulder with a smile and found me staring blankly at his body. He scowled, turned around, and put his hands on my hips.

  “You honestly feel no attraction for me?” He asked with indignant shock.

  “You're very pretty.” I shrugged. “Are you going to get in now or am I swimming alone?”

  Narcissus scowled and tromped into the water. He swam over to me and pulled me against his body. His dick nudged my belly, and I tried to straighten my arms to push him away. He held me tightly; searching my face.

  “Impossible!” He hissed.

  “I don't want you, Narcissus,” I said evenly. “Get over it, and let me go.”

  Narcissus shoved me away angrily but only far enough to separate us. Then he grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the lake; water sluicing from our bodies in an angry surge.

  “I don't feel like swimming anymore,” he huffed.

  I sighed in relief but it was short-lived. Narcissus kept walking past his discarded clothing, and he didn't provide me with another dress either.

  “Are you going to give me some clothes?” I asked as we strode through the main door.

  Narcissus stopped and stared at me. He looked over my body with open desire before he met my eyes and saw nothing even close to interest there. He waved a hand angrily and clothes appeared on me; clothes in the loosest sense of the word.

  I stared down in horror at the corset, silk panties, garter belt, stockings, and stiletto boots he'd given me. Chains and loops decorated the corset; shining brightly against the sin-black leather.

  “Are you kidding me?” I growled.

  A pair of leather pants appeared on Narcissus' body, and he smiled viciously. “I will discover what makes you wet, Vervain. I'm a god of water, after all; I'm good at making things wet.”

  I rolled my eyes again. This was getting ridiculous.

  “We shall go through every fetish I can think of until I get a reaction from you.” He started pulling me down the hallway again, but the corridor began to change.

  The décor shifted darkly. The walls, ceiling, and floor turned a glassy black and my heels began to click ominously. Then a crimson carpet bled up through the black beneath our feet, and a door appeared in the sleek wall to our right; surfacing like a swimmer coming up for air. Narcissus opened the door and revealed an orgy. Yep; the room was full of people fornicating.

  They were all dressed as we were; in S&M chic. There were couples, thruples, and more. It seemed that every group had been assigned a different kink to explore thoroughly. Narcissus led me around as I gaped at them. They weren't real; I knew that. These were illusions, not people. But their moans sounded real, and their flesh flushed and shivered just as real flesh does. The wet smacks of sex and spanking and other slamming things blended with the groans of pleasure, and my face heated.

  Narcissus looked at me sharply. But the heat in my cheeks wasn't arousal, it was embarrassment. He narrowed his eyes and led me to group after group; watching me the entire time. A man whipping a woman, a woman whipping a man, a woman laid across the lap of another woman as a man spanked her and kissed the woman she laid across. It started rather tame. Then we went further into the room.

  A woman pistoned her hips forward against a man's ass. He was tied over a barrel, and she had fake cock strapped between her legs. The man pushed back onto her phallus as she grabbed the sides of the barrel and rolled him toward her. I looked away... right at a woman who was hanging from the ceiling, tied in silk ropes. Several people surrounded her, taking turns licking her and fucking her. One man kissed her mouth while another thrust himself into her sex. Beyond them were people strapped into all manner of contraptions and struck with all manner of things. Every orifice that could be penetrated or licked was, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves except for me.

  It was all a bit embarrassing and distasteful, especially with Narcissus watching my every reaction. Not that I would have been into watching live sex shows without him. I'd much rather see this sort of thing on a screen in private, where I don't have to meet the eyes of those involved or feel dirty about the way they looked at me. Honestly, I don't watch a lot of porn; I don't need to. When you had men who looked like mine, there's no point; watching them crawl into bed is enough pornography for me.

  “If I didn't know better, I'd think you were a cold fish,” Narcissus huffed as he pulled me from the room. “All right, Vervain, you win this round. Tomorrow we'll try again.”

  Narcissus escorted me to a bedroom, pushed me inside, slammed the door in my face, and strode away angrily.

  “Can I get something more comfortable to sleep in?” I shouted after him.

  The leather disappeared and a see-through baby-doll took its place.

  “Aw, come on!”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  “This is stupid.” I rolled my eyes for emphasis.

  Narcissus and I were sitting in the stands at a horse race. We were the only ones watching the race, which in itself was kind of creepy, but then there were the horses. Which weren't horses. Naked people with contraptions over their heads to mimic bridles pranced about as they waited for the race to start. They had jockeys standing over their saddled backs, numbers painted on their flanks, and horsetails sticking out of their asses. I didn't know whether to laugh or look away. It was like an episode of Seinfeld where you're so embarrassed for the people that you can't even watch their humiliation.

  “Can we go now?” I grumbled.

  “But the race is about to start,” Narcissus said gleefully.

  “I'm not pretending.” I grimaced. “This honestly does nothing for me.”

  “Nor I,” he agreed. “But it's rather funny. I can't believe people do this.”

  “I don't believe it,” I said flatly. “Maybe the horse thing, but I don't think they have races like this.”

  “You'd be surprised at the things I've seen in people's memories,” he whispered as if he were sharing a scandal.

  I gave him a dry look.

  A buzzer went off, and the horses started “running.” A human couldn't move all that quickly on their hands and knees, regardless of whether they had knee pads and gloves on. The race wasn't about winning, it was about arousal. Although, how anyone can get aroused by pretending to be a horse is beyond me. Isn't that a child's game? Maybe it was my ability as a shifter to turn into real animals that made this seem so silly.

  At least I wasn't the one dressed like a horse.

  I sat back and looked over the horse track as Narcissus jumped to his feet to cheer his kinky illusions on. He had gotten very detailed with it. Ribbed, aluminum seats threatened to emboss my butt w
ith lines and some of their rivets even had edges of rust. Betting stubs, empty soda cups, and kernels of popcorn littered the stands in testament to the last cheering crowd. Not a single cloud hampered the strength of the Sun, shining brightly overhead. The packed-earth track circled an oval of grass outlined with a low railing. Yellow flowers sprouted in a clumpy line on the grass side of the railing to give the border some color. I didn't doubt that Narcissus had seen this track in someone's memory—it reeked of reality—but I did doubt that humans had been the horses racing around it.

  The race finally ended, and the winning horse received a wreath of flowers; draped around her neck triumphantly. Narcissus applauded while I crossed my arms and waited for his uniquely dismal torture to be over.

  But the celebrations had just begun.

  The winning horse had her tail lifted, and her jockey started vigorously fucking her. He slammed into her so hard that flower petals fell from the wreath around her neck. Then the announcer who had presented her with the wreath pulled out one more prize for her. He held his erection before her and the other jockeys clapped in approval before he shoved it into her eagerly open mouth. The men began bandying the winning “horse” back and forth between them as the other horses presented themselves to their riders for their own rewards. Everyone got a prize at the horse tracks. I tried to block out all the strident whinnying.

  “This doesn't excite you either?” Narcissus pursed his lips. “Perhaps you need to see specifically what you could have.”

  The scene shifted; track, horses, and stands all disappearing. We were suddenly in Narcissus' old bedroom; the one with the column-bed and pool-tub. I sat near the foot of the bed, strapped to one of the columns, but I was also lying naked beneath Narcissus.

  “What the fuck?” I screeched as he kissed the other me.

  “It's just an illusion,” he said calmly. “I've been practicing for you... on you. I figured it would give me an edge.”

  “If you can make a fake me, why don't you just fuck her and leave the real me alone?” I growled.

  “But she's not you. I want something real, Vervain.” He pouted. “And now, while I wait for you, I'll be able to hone my techniques more accurately. I've been able to make some improvements on your stand-in after getting a good look at you naked. You know; without other people in the way.”

  “What do you mean; without other people in the way?” I went still.

  “I watched you and your husbands that first morning in the Mirror,” he said casually. “You're very naughty and very talented. I've been having fun exploring all the ways I can satisfy you, and I think you'll find me to be an expert where your body is concerned.”

  “You told me that you haven't had sex in centuries,” I ground out. “But that was a lie, wasn't it? You've been fucking illusions all along.”

  “I was fucking real women and illusions.” He shrugged. “I told you that I was chaste so you'd be more sympathetic toward me.”

  “You disgusting—” A gag covered my mouth and cut me off.

  “Now, pay attention, Vervain,” Narcissus said as he slid between Fake-Me's legs. “If you close your eyes or look away, I'll be forced to use my magic to keep them open, and that won't be comfortable you. I do so want you to be comfortable while I show you how well I can fuck you.”

  I narrowed my glare at Narcissus, and he laughed before he nuzzled Fake-me's sex. He had positioned them so he could watch me as he worked, and he held my stare as he began to earnestly lick, suck, and rub until the fake-me was writhing and begging for more.

  “See? You love it.” Narcissus declared. Then he looked at Fake-Me. “ Is this what you want, Vervain?”

  “Oh, yes,” Fake-Me said. “Lick me just like that, Narcissus.”

  I rolled my eyes. He couldn't even come up with creative pillow talk.

  “Show me how much you want it, Vervain.” Narcissus positioned himself closer to me on his knees.

  Fake-Me crawled to him and started sucking his cock. That was rough to watch, especially with them so close. I had to let my vision go unfocused but the sounds of moaning and sucking were hard to ignore. Then Narcissus reached over and slapped my face.

  “I know you're not watching!” Narcissus grabbed my chin and angled my head down to watch Fake-Me suck him as he simultaneously grabbed her head and shoved her further onto him. She choked with wet, gagging sounds, and he sighed in pleasure. Did he really think this was going to sway me? Sorry; I'm not into being gagged or choked.

  “That's enough.” He pushed Fake-Me onto her back and fell upon her savagely.

  She helped him get his cock inside her and then he began a rapid thrusting. Fake-Me held him tenderly, kissing his neck and the line of his jaw as he pumped away. He kept glancing at me and changing positions so I could get a better view as he alternated between fucking, rubbing, and sucking Fake-Me. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Narcissus came, shouting triumphantly, and then collapsed over Fake-Me. She met my eyes over his shoulder and smiled. It gave me the damn shivers.

  Then the shivering ran through Fake-Me—her whole body blinking in and out of opacity rapidly—and Narcissus perked up.

  “Someone's knocking!”

  “Knocking on what?” I watched him warily.

  “On my metaphorical door.” He chuckled. “Come along, dearest, I want to introduce you to my friends.”

  Dearest? Well, I guess it could have been worse. He could have been a god of the dead with the power to control my body. Been there, done that, don't want to go there again. At least I'd been attracted to Anubis, Narcissus just got more unattractive the longer I was around him. Have you ever had that happen before? A guy gets uglier and uglier the more you get to know him? It wasn't even Narcissus' murderous nature that was turning me off. Gods know, I've been attracted to murderers before; Trevor tried to kill me the first time we met. Instead, it was Narcissus' moronic psychoticness that really made me want to hurl. Yes; I know psychoticness is not a word but it should be and now, it is. You're welcome.

  Back to the moron.

  As we walked, my horse track outfit of jeans and a T-shirt changed into something that belonged in the 1950s. Peptol Bismol pink gingham clung to my torso in a tailored bodice with short sleeves and a stand-up collar, and then it ballooned out in a fluffy skirt equipped with enough crinoline to outfit an entire ballet troupe. Around us, the bedroom disappeared and Narcissus' receiving room took its place. Except, he had it dolled up in a style to match my dress... and his new suit. Stiff orange couches crouched around his precious pool on shag rugs, a laminated pedestal table held a brass pendant lamp that shed light on a large, kitschy ashtray in the shape of a tiki, and a sideboard held crystal decanters of liquor and a red-enameled seltzer bottle.

  “Sit down, dear.” Narcissus escorted me to a loveseat.

  “Now, I'm in an episode of Mad Men, and he thinks I'm his little woman,” I muttered under my breath. “This just keeps getting crazier.”

  Narcissus didn't hear me; he was too busy concentrating on whatever he had to do to answer the knock. I watched the hallway expectantly and wasn't at all surprised when the Gay Gods and the Bottle Water Goddess walked in. I should have killed them when I'd had the chance. Why had I listened to Silenus?

  Disani was in the lead with Qaus and Gish close behind her. She was Amazon tall with pin-straight, black hair hanging to her narrow waist. Her ivy eyes burned bright against the background of her dark skin. She was beautiful but had a cruel, careless look to her face. Careless as in; she didn't care about her beauty or what anyone thought of it. I thought back to what I'd learned about her and agreed that description fit her. Disani was hardcore.

  The Supreme Goddess of the Kafir, Disani ruled both Fertility and Death. The myths say that she killed her own son; beheaded him because he was the product of rape... by a demon. I blinked as I recalled the rest. Disani was a psychopomp; she carries the souls of the dead. Sweet Tarts! Why hadn't I thought of her when I'd been investigating the demon deaths
? We were specifically looking for psychopomps. Not that it mattered; we found the man behind it all. Katila and his crazy, demon-killing mommy, Dhumorna. But the similarities were striking, especially to Dhumorna who had been known as the Destroyer of Demons.

  Gish and Qaus had been harder to find information on. They were gods whose worship had truly waned and hardly anyone remembered them anymore. Gish was the Afghani God of War. He was known to be a great warrior but was equally renowned for his stupidity and graceless manner. He looked the part; burly, dark, and mean. But he walked in proudly, his chest bare except for a rainbow slash across it that held on his quiver of arrows.

  Qaus was the wild card of the group. He didn't have War or Death as one of his magics, and there was even less known about him than Gish. All I could discover was that he was an Arabian Weather god who was associated with rainbows; which is why I jokingly referred to Gish and Qaus as the Gods of the Gays. Anyway, he used to be depicted holding a thunderbolt as he sat on a throne flanked by bulls so I assumed he had some kind of storm magic and may have even ruled his pantheon. He was swarthy and attractive with sparkling, eyes that shifted through the colors of the rainbow. I couldn't look at those eyes for long, they were too dazzling. Disani appeared to be the leader, but I had a feeling that Qaus was only allowing her to think that she was in charge. He seemed devious and deadly. As I sized him up, he was doing the same to me.