Entwined Fates - A Gods of Miami Story (PARTS 1&2 of ?) (Patreon)

I mentioned on Discord that this story had ballooned a bit more than I expected. I'd hoped to knock out the end of it with Part 2 but as I edited I found more I wanted to give more care to. So here's 3,000 more words from the last update. There are edits and additions throughout the text that was already posted, but if you want to just jump to roughly where we left off last time start a few paragraphs north of III.

Thanks for reading,

~dS

Entwined Fates - A Gods of Miami Story

I

Alright, babe, let me tell you a little story about why you should never, ever mingle with the gods.

I'm Colleen, your once-sassy hairdresser with a penchant for purple hair, which, you'll see, only added to my troubles.

My life as a hairdresser, working my ass off in Miami, was as fabulous as my violet locks. Could my sex life have used a boost? Yeah. Could a couple extra tips have helped with that student loan debt (an extra tip from me, skip that English degree!)? Yep. But I was getting by. Plus, I was the life of the salon (or so I thought) - until the day the goddess of love and beauty herself waltzed in like she owned the place.

It had been a typical Tuesday afternoon at the salon, and I was just wrapping up snipping away at a client's hair when the front door swung open. It’s just metal and glass on a hinge, so I don’t know what godly power allowed it to open this time with a flourish, but it did.

The entire room came to a standstill as a woman of unparalleled beauty sauntered in, her presence commanding everyone’s attention. The air became charged with an electric energy that made me - and based on the popped nipples of the women around me, everyone else - all hot and bothered in that good kind of way that also leaves you a bit on edge because you’re in public and can’t do anything about it.

As we all clenched our thighs I saw that the source of this was - who else? - Aphrodite.

Now, for those not in the know, she - like the rest of the Greek Gods ages ago - had retired and traded their chilly mountain top home for the sun-soaked shores of Miami. They’re semi-celebrities around here.

Clad in a flowing white beach dress that was one cup-size too small for her hourglass figure, she radiated an aura of effortless glamor. Her golden hair cascaded in loose waves over her sun-kissed shoulders, and her cerulean eyes sparkled with mischief. Her enormous, perfectly round breasts wobbled and shook within the top that strained to contain them, her thick nipples threatening to spring through the material. She was the epitome of a beach bunny, and she had embraced the lifestyle with open arms.

Hell, for all I knew she’d invented the trope.

As she sashayed into the salon she was flanked by three stunning, nude nymphs, each one a vision of sensual beauty in her own right. They moved in perfect harmony with each, their caresses and gropes fluid and graceful. But they quickly broke from her side and began intertwining themselves amidst the other hairstylists and our customers, tits and hands and even feet everywhere and on everything and everyone. If it looked delightful to touch or rub they were upon it.

"Darlings!" Aphrodite exclaimed to us hairdressers, her voice melodic and enchanting. "I've come to grace you with my divine presence. I'm in need of a touch-up, and my curiosity of how you mortals do it just got the best of me."

She twirled playfully, her dress billowing around her, her breasts heaving one way and then the other. I couldn't help but be captivated by her magnetic charm.

I wanted to try my hand at that magnificent hair, but even more so I felt this need for this goddess to like me. Aphrodite was the embodiment of vanity and bombast, but she wore it like a badge of honor. She knew she was a living legend. And I wanted that legend to like me, despite the risks, because wouldn’t that make me a part of the legend?

And, yeah, I knew that being friends with Aphrodite - being the mortal who a literal goddess trusted with her hair - could be marketable. But I told myself that was just a bonus.

Despite my infatuation with Aphrodite, a primal part of me urgently needed to know where the nymphs had gotten to. I tried to keep track of them as they played and teased throughout the salon. As a way to help myself log each of them my mind gave them names as my eyes followed them.

The first nymph, Amara, had luscious auburn hair cascading over her soft, honey-toned shoulders. I followed the curve of her full breasts, the elegant slope of her waist, and the gentle flare of her hips, before coming to rest on her long, shapely legs. Her body was a testament to the gods' exquisite craftsmanship, every inch of her flesh smooth and flawless. As she moved, her amber eyes glittered.

Calista, the second nymph, was an embodiment of dark, sultry beauty. Her raven-black hair framed a face of delicate, heart-shaped perfection. I couldn't help but be drawn to the swell of her breasts and the enticing curve of her hips. My gaze lingered on her tanned skin, glowing with an inner light, as my eyes traced the lines of her toned body. Her petite form danced before me, her emerald eyes alluring and mysterious.

Finally, Thalia was a vision of radiant, golden sensuality, her sun-kissed skin shimmering even in the harsh salon light. Her golden blonde hair looked spun from the sun itself, casting an ethereal glow upon her form. My vision was drawn to her full, enticing breasts, before drifting downward to appreciate her slender waist and the gentle curve of her hips. Her long, supple legs would be heaven to have wrapped around you, and her azure eyes burned with a passion.

My concentration was broken as Aphrodite turned to me, a delicate finger raised. It waggled at my head, as if her hand was flirting with me.

“You have a delightful choice in hair color. Let’s see what you can do with my lovely locks.”

I hadn’t noticed that my customer, who I had mostly finished with, had left my chair. Had she even paid? Did she know better than to stay within eyesight of Aphrodite? I don’t know, and I’ll never know. Aphrodite bounced over and sat, staring at me through the reflection of the mirror hanging over my shelf of tools and sprays.

“Impress me.”

A lot rested on getting this right. Not just the loss of a paid time slot or getting a bad review of my skills, but like my very humanity itself.

Settled in Miami, the gods weren’t quite as powerful anymore - no commanding the seas or weather - but they still had abilities over us mortals. Not just social influence because they’re celebrities around here. They’re celebrities who won’t think twice about leaving behind a palm tree that wasn’t there before, instead of a bad review. But even knowing that, being in Aphrodite’s presence…something inside me was certain I could be the exception to this risk.

I swallowed, telling myself, You can do this! and after prepping the goddess’ hair I raised my shears. As I was about to snip, a nymph, Calista, bumped my elbow trying to grope Gina, the stylist next to me. I instinctively swung the blades away to avoid an unintended snap.

Aphrodite noticed, both my reflex and the source of the near-catastrophe.

“Excellent parry there, my dear,” the goddess smiled as she waved her hands to summon the nymphs to her. They stood in a line beside my chair, in the order of Amara, Calista, and Thalia. You wouldn’t think the order wouldn’t matter, but the gods could surprise you.

Aphrodite first spoke to the nymph who had bumped me.

“As punishment for disrupting the work of someone else’s hands, I put upon you a blessing that nothing aside from those two hands upon you now will ever again touch that pretty pussy of yours.”

I watched Calista mew and fidget. It looked like she was a bit sad that no one could ever again finger or lick her very wet slit, but I got the feeling that this nymph was also getting turned on by the idea of such a limitation. Without shame she reached down and tested that she could still slip a finger between her labia, sliding it up slowly to caress her clitty in a slow swirl.

But, as I would learn, the gods are rarely done when you think they are.

“Now, all three of you are too rambunctious for your - and my - own good in here. I think this will make it easier to keep track of you.”

With the smallest gesture of her two hands towards each other Aphrodite made the biggest change to her nymphs.

The trio slid inwards, Amara and Thalia’s shoulders, arms, and hips pushing tightly against Calista’s - until the center nymph didn’t have any pairs I could dare call her own anymore. Both of Calista’s arms - and the inner arms of Amara and Thalia - merged into the neighboring limbs before those four arms were swallowed up by their integrating torsos. Amara’s left breast nestled up next to Calista’s right, while Thalia’s right breast pushed tightly against Calista’s left, six tits all in a line across their wide torso. Only the varying colors of their skin indicated where one nymph’s formerly-singular flesh ended and the other’s began.

Their legs did not follow the same path. The two outer nymphs appeared to retain both of their legs while Calista’s lower limbs were absorbed into them. This essentially left the center nymph, the one who had put Aphrodite’s hairdo at risk, hanging helplessly, permanently suspended between the other two. Her bare, glistening slit puckered between the inner legs of her new body-hosts, pulling and stretching as the outer nymphs shifted and adjusted to their new form.

All six breasts swung and bounced as the trio learned to stand on four legs. Calista’s expression betrayed the arousal she was experiencing - and the simultaneous frustration of no longer having arms to grab her tits, or her own thighs to squeeze her glistening pussy.

I have no idea if Aphrodite had intended such a permanent existence of frustration when she performed her two magical acts, or if they were unrelated thoughts that happened to stack tragically, but I immediately realized that since Calista no longer had access to her own hands that meant she’d spend…eternity? How long do nymphs live? A long time with no one ever touching her pussy again.

Amara and Thalia immediately recognized the situation and power they had over Calista, each using their remaining arms to tease their own breasts, their own wet slits, and coming tantalizingly close to touching Calista’s - only to have an invisible force push them back from her labia at the last moment. Nymphs never seemed to talk, but Calista’s moans let everyone in the salon know that she desperately wanted more - and that she knew she couldn’t.

And wouldn’t.

With another more mundane wave of her hand Aphrodite indicated that Amara and Thalia should make themselves scarce, and in a series of ill-timed steps across their dual pair of legs the trio moved towards the hair dryers, Calista’s hanging torso pulled and squished between them as they staggered along. Little drops of need splattered the floor beneath the nymph who I guessed was now stuck eternally edging from the movement of her outer partners.

Yanking my attention back to the goddess, I focused and worked with vigor, using every skill and insight I could think of to give Aphrodite the look she could enjoy between the beach and parties and Miami nightlife. And when I was done, she beamed as she admired her reflection in the mirror. She asked my name and I gave it, her voice like warm honey as she repeated it with affection.

"Colleen, darling, you have truly outdone what I expected. I simply must share your talents, and you, with my fellow Olympiamians."

My heart fluttered with an explosion of emotions, so much so I missed some details of the party she invited me to as she pressed a specially minted coin into my hand. But I had heard what I needed to get me there.

As I’d learn, I would have been better off forgetting all about the damn party.

II

Two days later I was doing my best to saunter with confidence up to a swanky mansion. Maybe if my little yellow dress wasn’t highlighting all the curves I didn’t have compared to the other women I was seeing entering I’d have been in a better mood, but it was the best party-look I had.

The spaghetti straps framed my little bust, my tits so slight I didn’t need a bra. My nipples were all that were pushing out against the nylon-spandex mix. The material stuck to my trim sides, down over my petite peach ass, and stopped just a few inches beyond that. If it weren’t for the five inch stilettos of my glossy yellow high heels I may not have had any perkiness back there at all.

I rarely wore anything on my feet that high and most of my energy was focused on staying atop the heels. The amount of skin I was showing off was a little more than I was comfortable with, but the yellow dress was a good match with my purple hair, and if you’re going to hang with the gods you gotta stand out.

At least, I thought that was a good idea at the time.

I gasped as I stepped inside. The party was a hedonistic wonderland of gods and social media models, a place where temptation hung in the air like the sweetest perfume…and muskiest desires. Some people were standing around eating hors d'oeuvre, sipping cocktails, and totally ignoring the nude guests fucking in various places around them. The mansion’s open entertaining space transitioned seamlessly to the pool and emerald green lawn, making it a perfect party space with no place to really hide from sight.

I wasn’t sure where to look, honestly. Humans, nymphs, and…Apollo?...weren’t draped over everything, but the odd lounge chair, area rug, and some steps into the pool all featured different sets of bodies plunged into each other from one end or the other.

As I blushed and stepped towards the bar I could see the conjoined trio of nymphs from the salon reclined on a lounge. Amara and Thalia’s legs were spread wide, a human between each of them. A woman, with her dress pulled away from her generous, swinging breasts, was eagerly lapping at Amara’s slit. A completely nude man was balls deep inside of Thalia.

Between them, Calista’s own quivering snatch was empty and bare to the air, and I could see in her face how desperately she wanted someone to use her, to release her. Her juices had dripped down her flesh-neighbor’s thighs and were pooling on the tiled patio.

I don’t know how I expected to feel at the party. I’d chased the urge to please Aphrodite…to continue to endear myself. And now that I was here…

Maybe some part of me assumed Aphrodite would be there at the entry to greet me, to make it clear how welcomed I was, to ease my nerves. Yes, I’d given the coin at the door and been let in, but how did anyone really know I was meant to be at a party like this when I didn’t feel like I was in the right place?

Liquid courage was my answer to the flutters in my stomach, and I was on my second tequila sunrise when I caught Zeus' eye.

Yeah, you read that right.

The mother-fucking king of the gods - although nowadays he was treated more like you’d appease ‘that uncle’ at Thanksgiving - sauntered over, smirking.

"You have the ‘deer in the headlight’ look of a first-timer,” Zeus grinned. I tried to hold back the mental wince that came whenever a mortal heard a god use a turn of phrase that included an animal. If my face had betrayed me Zeus did not appear to take notice. Instead, he gently touched a strand of my hair, “Ah, the purple! You must be Colleen. Aphrodite couldn't stop raving about your talents.”

I felt my heart flutter at the statement. And my mouth stammer.

“Ah, well, uh, thank you. Aphrodite makes it easy to do something beautiful and sexy,” I replied, my nervousness taking over my thinking, “This is a great party!”

“Yes, it is! I mean, all of my parties are!” Zeus agreed with my flattery of him, placing a hand to his bare stomach.

I hadn’t meant it to be as much flattery as it was. I hadn’t realized I had strolled into his mansion. I thanked fuck I had been complimentary.

I saw his fingers scratch his belly. He had a dad bod that threaded the needle for me between sexy and slobby, with palm-print swim shorts tied tightly around his waist. Corona Extra-branded sandals adorned his feet, and the sunglasses he’d slid down his nose to look over at me bore the same logo. His hair - both atop his head and over his face - was long and curly, and in one hand he held a large plastic cup with a myriad of umbrellas, stirrers, and cherries sticking out the top. “But, my dear, we do have something of a dress code here…”

‘But’ was the fucking scariest word you could hear a god say. My eyes quickly danced around the room - my dress didn’t appear to be that much different than some others. I could feel my pulse quicken and my skin blush.

Soon I realized that ‘something’ was more of the lynchpin in that statement than I realized.

With a not-so-subtle hand gesture from Zeus, I felt tingles and warmth, like being enveloped in a sultry breeze, as my body changed.

My breasts swelled, fat bubbling up from some unknown source atop my ribs. As my skin groaned and stretched my boobs were becoming heavier and rounder, their shape defying the natural slump such a large amount of flesh should have surrendered to gravity. My back ached for a moment before something was done to relieve it.

Alongside the unrequested growth of my tits my nipples were stiffening and perking up and out - literally commanded to beg for attention from now on. They must had gained at least an inch in length.

Meanwhile, I felt a gust of air escape my lungs as my waist cinched in, making my forming hourglass figure even more pronounced, as my hips were curving outward, as if now screaming, "Grab me here!" My ass plumped backwards, growing in a similar fashion as my breasts, until I could have placed a shot glass on the new topshelf off my butt.

There was also a tingle in my feet, but I didn’t quite know to what end at that moment. One final detail I wouldn’t see until later was that the king of the gods had added pointed elf-ears, which stretched out through my purple locks. I could feel that they had added their own extra sensitivity as my hair gently brushed them.

Despite the changes being unexpected I couldn't help but run my hands over my newly enhanced curves, entranced by the silky softness of my skin and the naughty sensation of my own touch - even through the thankfully stretchy dress. I’d always been quietly jealous of the more well-endowed, and although Zeus had changed my body without asking I found myself admiring what he had done.

My new boobs were large and soft and perky, but not too heavy or saggy. My nipples were large and sensitive but weren’t causing my pussy to drip and spasm with each breath. I appreciated that, all things considered, Zeus had done some pretty nice work. I was actually pleased with this turn of events.

What came next, maybe not so much.

I instinctively cupped my tits, and knowing better than to leave the expectant-looking Zeus hanging, I mewed, “I see what you mean! Thank you so much, these boobs are amazing!”

Zeus chuckled, and with a sly grin, waved his hand once more. "My dear, you're welcome, but you don’t need to tell me, you can share that freely with anyone! And ‘boobs’ feels too pedestrian for the type of fun you can have with those, I think from now on, you must call them 'fuck pillows.' And it’s a shame they must be squeezed into such a conservative look."

My heart pounded in my chest as Zeus continued waving about his hands. He couldn’t seem to keep his fingers still for one goddamn minute. I felt a brief fuzziness in my head, but the more tactile sensation was my already not-so-modest yellow dress morphing, reshaping into something scandalously smaller, and so much more freaking revealing. My original dress was demure compared to this monstrosity.

I could hardly believe my eyes as I watched the fabric recede and reshape into a micro bikini. It was still yellow, sure, but it barely covered anything. The top was a couple of fabric scraps straining against my new, bigger fuck pillows, like it was on the brink of a major wardrobe malfunction, the upper and bottom edges of my areola teasing out. My nipples pressed against the fabric so tightly it may as well have been painted on them.

The bottoms? Hell, it was a thong, basically a tease that barely hid my labia, and honestly drew more attention to my slit than being naked would have. Even my heels changed, the straps and buckles merging together, becoming more like fuck-me boots on higher stilettos that I teetered even more precariously atop.

I was stuck for a brief second feeling the sex-humid air of the party all over my nearly naked skin, my heart hammering away in my chest. Then the heat of my embarrassment took over. Blushing, my heart pounding like a drum, I felt as if I’d become Zeus’ personal work of art, every single eye in the room on me not to see me but what Zeus had molded out of some poor mortal. In truth, I was one of the least interesting things at the party, but that’s not how embarrassment works. I might've accepted the sexier body when I could dress it as I liked, but this was for more of me than I ever wanted to show.

I felt my cheeks turn an even brighter red, but I put on a brave facade. The last thing I wanted to do was show Zeus, of all people, that I was uncomfortable. So I plastered a grin on my face, all the while praying that no one could see through my act. I blinked in relieved disbelief as Zeus nodded his contentment and wiggled his fingers at me again - but this time as a childish wave of ‘goodbye’ since I guess he felt his work was done - and some new sexy mortal had slinked by. My fake grin remained stretched across my face as I watched him putter after a group of social media influencers livestreaming the party.

As soon as I felt he was out of earshot I tried to say “My breasts,” but, sure enough, the words "fuck pillows" were formed by my lips every time I attempted to refer to my newly expanded and displayed bust. Tits, knockers, boobs, chest, each attempt fell from my mouth as “Fuck pillows, fuck pillows, fuck pillows, fuck pillows.”

“Well, shit,” I muttered. And down went the rest of my tequila sunrise as I stared down at what I could see around my fuck pillows was left of my outfit - and modesty. I had fantasized about a body almost like this so I could adorn it with all the sizzling fashions I could never properly pull off - not to make myself a walking billboard of skin.

I considered leaving the party, but I still wanted to find Aphrodite, to make all of…this…worth it.

The sunk cost fallacy asserts itself in strange ways.

I needed a new dose of alcohol, and as I took a step towards the bar I discovered the other thing Zeus had ‘blessed’ me with - the soles of my feet had become erogenous zones. At the angle of my altered heels my weight was pressed down in the perfect way so that every time I lifted a foot and pushed it back down I felt a rush to my pussy akin to fingers caressing my lower lips.

Imagine what that does to your groin when it takes twelve steps just to get to the bar. I could feel that the little yellow slip between my thighs was drenched before I could rewet my thirst. I couldn’t begin to imagine the camel toe I must have been sporting.

A fresh drink in hand helped me deal with that, and I wobbled and bobbled atop my new literal fuck-me heels back into the party. It was then I realized how much Zeus really wanted me to share with people what he’d done. As I passed party guests on my quest for Aphrodite, I found myself compelled to stop and talk about Zeus’ work on my new body - especially my fuck pillows.

"My ass is so slappable now! And can you believe Zeus gave me these incredible fuck pillows?" I gushed unbidden to one wide-eyed man. "They're so full and soft, I can't stop touching them," I continued, my hands absentmindedly caressing my fuck pillows over the bikini scraps.

A giggling, buzzed woman, filled with curious schadenfreude, asked, "How do they feel when you walk?" I couldn't hold back the smile as I automatically replied, "Oh, the way that my fuck pillows bounce and sway is simply intoxicating. It's like having two dowsing rods of pleasure leading the way, teasing everyone who sees me! And perched over the tiny waist Zeus gave me, they look so much bigger!"

My cheeks burned as I helplessly extolled how I liked being so much on display as Zeus’ artwork.

I gulped down yet another tequila sunrise, and feeling my compulsion to talk about my fuck pillows lesson as I encountered more people I’d already talked to, I resumed my search for Aphrodite. But just as my eyes began seriously scanning the guests, a shout caught my attention. I turned, my eyes widening in surprise as I saw Zeus standing by the group of social media models who had been live streaming.

"Are you insulting my pool?" Zeus's voice echoed throughout the room, laced with incredulity and a hint of leading amusement.

"I just said it's smaller than some of the inflatables I’ve filmed in!" the model retorted, a defiant pout on her face, “It’s still…nice.”

Her friends, who were standing nearby, immediately shifted aside. They exchanged glances, but not glances of concern - more like looks of Can you believe her? and Oh boy, here it comes… They seemed to understand - if not be bothered by - the gravity of what she had said, whereas she remained blissfully ignorant.

And they all kept filming.

"Well then, my dear," Zeus began, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He raised a hand, the air around it shimmering with the raw, untamed energy that I had just felt so many times over. “If you think this pool is small, perhaps it is you who are the wrong size.”

The tension in the room was thick as a thundercloud as Zeus waved his hand. His divine power crackled in the air, the energy pulsing around him like a physical force. Then, just as suddenly, the room fell into a silence so deep that one could hear the soft fluttering of the model's eyelashes as they blinked in confusion.

Maybe, because I was watching it from the outside, Zeus’ use of his magic this time looked more dramatic. Or, maybe Zeus upped the dramatic presentation when he was pissed off. Either way, his magic swirled around the model, encircling her body in a sultry dance. Her expensive designer clothes shimmered and shivered under the magic’s touch, the fabric disintegrating, revealing her perfectly sculpted body to the crowd's eager gaze. A collective gasp echoed through the room as she stood there, naked. Yet defiant.

Well, maybe less defiant as dumbfounded. What could one even do in that situation? I’d certainly stood and taken it without resistance.

Her skin began to ripple and undulate. Slowly, small feathers sprouted from her bare flesh. They were tiny at first, almost indistinguishable from the fine hairs on her skin, but they quickly grew in size and number, covering her body in a blanket of white fluff.

Her “perfect” influencer curves melted and shifted under the feathery coverage. Her slim waist expanded, growing rounder, taking on the graceful, plump shape of a swan's body. Her shapely legs bent and twisted, shrinking into slender, stickish limbs while her feet spread and turned into orange paddles, toes sprawling away from each other while conjoined by the webbing flowing out between them.

Her arms thinned and lengthened, the hands reshaping into wings that flapped with an awkward, frantic rhythm. Her neck grew, her face pushed outwards, her mouth elongating into a beak, her glamorous makeup disappearing under more down. I expected she’d made many a duck face into the phone that currently rested on the poolside tiles, and now her nose and lips were permanently stretched out, stiffly smushed together.

One thing that didn’t change, and I shouldn’t have been surprised, were her breasts. They were delicate handfuls on her human modelesque mody, and remained unchanged through Zeus’ alterations. The down that had overtaken the woman’s skin stopped its advance around the swell of each boob, her chest and nipples fully bare. As her body contracted and shrank to match her new swan form her breasts maintained their size, looking absolutely enormous on her soft, snowy, avian body.

As she finished shrinking down to the proper size, her bird back clearly stressed by the large human breasts nearly dragging on the ground before her, Zeus gently nudged the new swan towards the pool. She stumbled forward, her movements awkward and uncoordinated, breasts bouncing and plopping, wings spread, a frustrated honk escaping her intermittently. With one last awkward leap, she landed in the pool with a small splash. She floated there, the water rippling around her in a gentle caress. Her posture improved as her pink tits floated upon the water before her, their nipples now crinkling and stiffening.

There was certainly plenty of room for her…now.

Zeus seemed delighted. With a smug grin on his face, he gently bent down to speak to his new tenant. “There, isn't that much more fitting? Enjoy your days here, swan. And behave, or you’ll end up a swan fountain. Can you guess where the water will be spraying from?"

A quiet honk implied to Zeus that his point had been made, and with that business done our host turned and encouraged his guests to resume their merrymaking - which wasn’t hard to do. I could coldly sense how all of the revelers were somehow in agreement with the judgment Zeus had just doled out - glancing down at my fuck pillows I wondered how close had I come to such a feathery fate? Better her than me. I mean, what did she expect would happen?

For a few minutes I watched the swan’s other model friends titter and stream her to their followers, none appearing all that torn up about what had transpired. They seemed more interested in seeing how many of the swan’s subscribers they could now pull to themselves, since she wouldn’t be on social media again any time soon. I huffed at how quickly everyone had accepted that a once-human woman was now just a bird.

But then my attention was pulled from the swan and models by a magnetic presence approaching in a purple linen suit.

It was Bacchus, the god of wine and merriment, his eyes gleaming with mischief and a grin that was pure desire.

“Well now, aren't you an Olymiampean delight?" He purred with a sultry gaze that roved over my scantily clad figure, his smile making my cheeks prickle. His tone was a silky whisper that washed over me, setting my skin ablaze. After glancing all the way down to my heels his eyes traveled back up and settled on my purple hair. “I saw those lovely locks from across the pool and I was just inspired. I absolutely had to meet you.” He took my hand and gave the top of it a gentle kiss.

After his lips had pulled away I brought my arm back and crossed both of them over my chest, feeling even more exposed by his compliments.

"The outfit and my fuck pillows are a gift from Zeus. The bikini he crafted really puts…” I tried to say “his work” but whatever magic Zeus had cast on me knew what I was doing, “...my fuck pillows on display…”

With a deep sigh I wrangled my words back to my own control, “But I don’t typically wear anything so exposing," I managed, my voice wavering more than I'd like to admit. “This is so much more revealing than I thought I’d be showing off here, before or after gaining my new…hourglass. Not really my style - but I am glad it pleases our host!”

I’d quickly tacked that last bit on at the end, not knowing where Bacchus landed on the buddy-buddy scale with Zeus. Something about being around this purple-suited god…there was an influence that felt like it was drawing truth from me.

"Fuck pillows! A Zeusian favorite…” Bacchus let out a chuckle, rich and deep, that reverberated through the air around us. He knew the term? More importantly, that Zeus was a fan of the term?

Suddenly, I wondered how many other women might be wandering around Miami forced to say ‘fuck pillows’ at every opportunity. Was it better or worse that I was not the only one Zeus had done this to?

"To be honest, it was your delightfully purple hair that first caught my eye and has inspired me. Though, my dear, I certainly have no complaints about your exposure, you are overall a feast for the eyes. A tantalizing sight, truly. It saddens me to hear that you would rather be more hidden, but I respect that desire. Perhaps I could even assist with it. And I hope there is some solace that it was the hair color I believe you chose of your own accord that truly captured my attention."

I did feel a little flutter at the complement of my hair - that was me. All me. His fingers found a lock of my purple hair that had fallen out of place, and as he brushed it back, his hand gently grazed my newly formed, sensitive elf ear. It was the first time someone had touched one since Zeus had stretched them so erogenously. The contact sent a jolt of desire through me, amplified by walking on my aroused feet and the tequila sunrises I had been indulging myself with all evening.

"Oh!" I gasped, my hand instinctively moving to my ear as Bacchus pulled back and again chuckled at my reaction. My thighs twitched together, my feet awkwardly turning in towards each other within my heels - grinding my horny soles, which did not help my predicament.

"Sensitive, are they?" Bacchus mused, his grin becoming devilish. "I should have expected. What about these?" His gaze then dropped down to my chest, eyes sparkling with delight. I noticed that his hands, now, remained still at his sides, nearly behind him. "They've certainly been turning heads."

I flushed a deeper shade of red, looking down at Zeus’ work. "Yeah, from what I can tell, my fuck pillows are really built to live up to the term. What little fabric I’ve got on, and even just the air moving over them, has really been…distracting.”

Bacchus nodded, his hands remaining at his side. Now I found myself wanting him to invade my space again, to make it feel like there was some benefit to hefting these fuck pillows. I bit my lip - something Zeus had shockingly not changed - and barely contained my desire to lean into Bacchus’ touch. Yeah, he hadn’t been entirely gentlemanly, and was totally coming onto me, but in the moment - given a bit of inebriation and everything else that had happened - this felt like a respectful connection in a room full of people and gods lost up their own asses.

"If it would make you more comfortable,” Bacchus’ roguish grin split his lips - and in my mind my legs - “I may know of a much more comfortable room we could escape to with far fewer eyes."

III

Swept up by Bacchus' magnetism, I allowed him to lead me away from the main gathering, his hand settling comfortably on the small of my back, his little finger so teasingly close to dipping into the bulging crack of my expanded ass. Bacchus, for all his brazen charm, was a skilled seducer. His attentiveness was intoxicating, making me forget about the nerves and self-consciousness I had felt earlier. By the time we reached the more secluded chamber, a sense of bold excitement had replaced my initial embarrassment, spurred on by the arousal stirred by his touch, his words, and the numerous tequila sunrises in my system.

As Bacchus and I entered the spare office littered with abandoned exercise equipment, the ambient light danced upon his features, creating a play of shadows and light that accentuated his roguish good looks. He turned to me, his gaze holding an intense hunger that mirrored my own, which was about to overwhelm me. The intoxication from the drinks coupled with my burgeoning arousal made my senses feel hyper aware of him, each minor touch, each breathy whisper sending shivers down my spine.

His hands slipped around my waist, drawing me closer. Our lips met in a passionate kiss, our bodies pressing against each other. The warmth emanating from him felt intoxicating, his fingers tracing patterns on the skin of my back, igniting sparks of pleasure that made me gasp into his mouth. His touch, exploring the new curves of my body, was both gentle and demanding, stirring a heat within me at an intensity I hadn't known before.

As his mouth descended to my neck, his hands roamed over my body, his fingers deftly untying the strings of my bikini top. My breath hitched in my throat as the scant fabric fell away, leaving my massive fuck pillows bare to his hungry desires. His lips moved lower, his mouth taking one of my bigger, stiffened nipples into his mouth. The sensation was intense, the pleasure shooting straight through me, making me clutch onto his broad shoulders, nearly tearing the linen. I gasped as he began to suckle, each tug sending waves of pleasure rippling through me.

“Yes…” I felt compelled to gasp, “Suck on my fuck pillows! They feel so good! I love them so mmmmuch…”

With a chuckle, his hand moved lower, his fingers slipping beneath the absolutely soaked scrap of a thong. I gasped, my hips instinctively bucking against his hand, as thick fingers pushed around and between my lower lips. The pleasure was unlike anything I had ever felt, my body reacting to an assertive fullness reaching deep into my pussy. But even the less direct touches as he - let’s call it as it is - finger-fucked me were with an intensity that left me unable to breath. His fingers explored, my juices dripping around them, stoking the fires of my desire to an unbearable heat.

After a few moments it was clear Bacchus wanted more for himself. I whimpered as he shlucked a drenched hand from my snatch. But I knew it wouldn’t be empty for long. Bacchus laid me down on a disused treadmill, his broad body covering mine. My ballooned butt and back pressed firmly on the plastic tread, the machine creaking an ignored objection to our unintended use of it. My fuck pillows stood proudly on my chest, and I nearly came as he pressed his chest down upon them.

I felt the thong peel from my pussy and get tossed aside, my flesh quivering at the feeling of his skin against mine. I knew the small strip of brown curls clutched atop my mons had to be absolutely plastered to me. I heard him unzip, and the fat bulb of his godly dick split my dripping folds.

Inch by inch he eased inside. The sensation of him, my fullness, was overwhelming, my body stretching to accommodate him. I clung to him, my nails digging into his back as he moved within me. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure washing over me, my body meeting his rhythmically as his intensity increased with each pump. The room filled with the sounds of our wet and sweaty lovemaking, the scent of our desire heavy in the air. The treadmill cracked and groaned as my ass was smashed down onto it.

Finally, Bacchus came. I wasn’t quite there myself, but something about his supernatural load filling me skipped me ahead to the climax. As the unexpected orgasm washed over me, I felt an intensity of pleasure I'd never known. It was a crescendo of sensation, a symphony of pleasure that left me gasping and trembling beneath him. I clung to Bacchus as the waves of pleasure ebbed away, my body feeling boneless and sated, as his meaty length refused to soften within me. He was still as hard as iron as I felt my godly lover pull out, leaving me limp on the gentle recline of the exercise machine.

I’m glad it was a good fuck, because I don’t know when next I may have another one.

As I lay there in the afterglow, my body still humming with residual pleasure atop the rough plastic, I briefly cooed at the thought that this new body, despite its surprises, held an intensity of potential experience. I glanced up at Bacchus with an airy smile, his expression one of satisfied delight.

And mischief.

“Now, my dear,” he smiled, looking down with a broad gin. I didn’t remember him undressing much before plunging into me, and as he stood I noticed he was fully clothed, his suit impeccable. “As you have blessed me with such pleasure, allow me to grant you a boon. Your purple hair has given me a wonderful idea that I believe will solve your concerns with showing so much skin. Plus, I do always love it when the carpet matches the drapes.”

Bacchus waved his hand at me and left the room as I felt a tingling sensation along the strands of my hair, like a subtle, electrifying energy. As the feeling intensified, I realized that the magic was not just affecting the purple lengths, but was reaching deeper, erotically rooting itself into my scalp. And not just atop my head - a similar tingle was clutching my brown pubes. The process was strange, yet undeniably sensual.

I could feel the strands of my hair twisting and tightening. I quickly jumped up, naked save for the absurd heels that were still wrapped around my ankles. My fuck pillows swung and heaved as I stumbled to a mirror. I threw my hands to my mouth, my elbows scrunching my nipples, as I watched what Bacchus had started.

My hair - above and below - was twisting and merging together. What had once been countless thin strands were now only about a dozen stalks on my head and about half that between my thighs.

And I do mean stalks. It was instantly apparent that my hair was metamorphosing into some assortment of vines. And since it was Bacchus who had done this, I could only guess - grapevines.

As the forming vegetation completely consumed and consolidated every strand of hair they began to grow. I could barely feel anything I’d call ‘roots’ under my skin - thank fuck - but the sensation of their mass stretching out from my scalp and groin felt like an erotic massage. The vines possessed a will of their own, their movements deliberate and sensual, each tendril a delicate brushstroke painting a masterpiece of passion and desire across my body as they spread and entwined over my skin.

The vines atop my head split to either side, framing my face. Each flowed down to my shoulders, and then split again. Some traveled down each arm, creating a braided lattice that ceased its growing between my elbow and wrists.

The rest cascaded down over my fuck pillows, my body shaking with fresh arousal as the grapevines clutched and curled around the curves. They spread under and over my chest, nearly encasing each fuck pillow. On each side a single vine swung down and gripped my nipples, spiraling tightly around it and causing me to gasp at the pinchy pleasure. Nothing grew much further beyond my significant underboob.

Between my thighs the grapevines that had formed from my pubes were making similar treks across my lower body. Some had reached upwards, following the crease of my hips along my abdomen. They knotted together at the base of my lower back and then crept into my fat ass crack, slipping down and across my asshole and taint like a thong grown from nature.

I gripped the wall as those vines met with their brethren at the front of my vagina, the group of them laying along and pressing against every valley of my labia. A knob of them formed over my clit and was pulled in tight. Other tendrils continued down each of my legs.

A thick, planty, criss-cross ‘fishnet’ grew down my thighs, over my knees, and along my calves. The tips then grew over the absurd shoes Zeus had given me, the only clothes still adorning me, cinching in between the stiff arches and the heels. When the growth was finished the yellow stilettos were essentially tied and bound to my feet by Bacchus’ ‘boon.’

The vines weren’t spreading further, but they weren’t quite finished. Small grape leaves began to sprout randomly across my body, with three especially large ones popping up in what I presumed were intended places - over each nipple and my pussy, fully obscuring them.

Calming my horny, haggard breaths, I took a few unsteady steps away from the mirror. Staring back at me was some Renaissance painting of the Garden of Eden. My lower ribs and the entirety of my stomach and abs were on display, and my face and lower arms were also free of the vines’ coverage.

But the rest of me was certainly more covered up than what the bikini had provided. My fuck pillows and upper arms were almost entirely obscured by the plants growing down from my head. The two big grape leaves wobbled from their tight perch upon my pulsing nipples.

From the hips down I was nearly covered in vines. Each buttcheek was mostly bare, the plants growing from my mons doing nothing more than tightly riding down the center of my ass. My groin was a mix of vines and little leaves, with a larger one resting in such a way to cover my clenched pussy and pressed clit. The skin of my legs was teased in a crosshatch pattern. My feet, of course, were trapped inside the heels.

“What…the…fuck…Bacchus…” I gasped. I twisted and bent my body to test how much I could still move. I had mostly full motion, the vines loosening and shifting to adapt to my movement. But as they did so they dragged across my new, more sensitive skin and inflamed my gripped slit all the more.

My brian struggled to fully comprehend what had been done to me. I mean…just…everything that had been changed about my body over the course of…one evening? What the fuck?!

Aphrodite or no Aphrodite, I was ready to get the fuck out of here with whatever dignity - and humanity - I had left. I briefly looked for the bikini Bacchus had stripped from me before realizing, What’s the point?

I would have ripped my heels off if I could, but my sensitive soles were held tight against the interior. I was forced to clack towards the door, but after roughly three steps I felt my joints go weak. Huffing and leaning on a dusty bench press, I hadn’t expected that walking so swiftly, with my thighs rubbing the vines together, was going to shift the knot over my clit. I’d been pushed very close to an orgasm. If I didn’t want to collapse into a full climax where I stood I’d have to move slower, more deliberately.

A real, sensual, catwalk strut.

No tits or slit on display anymore, but Bacchus was totally cool with setting me up for public orgasms. Cool cool cool, I thought.

Cool.

As I reentered the party, my body trapped in grapevines and my feet trapped in the absurd heels, I became increasingly aware of the physical sensations associated with wearing the vines. Their velvety texture gently glided against my skin, brushing over my sensitive flesh over and over and sending shivers down my spine. I felt my juices seep into the foliage between my legs.

There was no chafing, no pain, just the rub of a soft, ceaseless tightness. As I became visible to more and more guests the tendrils entwined themselves tighter around my body, better displaying my curves - and especially my fuck pillows. The leaves swayed and danced, their movements synchronized with my own, creating an intricate and mesmerizing display of sensuality.

But I didn’t care about that. And I didn’t care anymore about finding Aphrodite. It was definitely time to get the fuck out of this party. I summoned a car and headed towards the door.

That was easier said than done. I couldn’t move quickly, I had a new ‘outfit’ that was displaying Zeus’ handiwork in a fresh way. I stopped over and over again, compelled to grin, present my fuck pillows, and explain in detail how much I loved my new look.

“Oh yes, these tendrils are just divine, I love how they squeeze me just right. Look at the support they give my fuck pillows!”

“Well, I’ll say that while they are harder to see, they’re not called fuck pillows because they’re for looking at!”

“The heels Zeus made for me are so sexy, why would I want to take them off?”

“It’s just a vine thong, so you can really get a good palm on either cheek, still.”

“My fuck pillows just feel so yummy, especially with these little coils keeping my nips nice and taught.”

It took fucking forever to get to the exit and into the damn car, but once I was seated with the door shut between me and anymore gods I let out a deep breath of relief.

Or, as deep of one as I could with a cinched ribcage clutched by magic grapevines.

to be continued...