Kiss, Kiss, Bang, Bang
 by Thamiris
Ares looked around, stroking his cock like a lion pawing its half-eaten prey.  Bored again, goddammit.  Hadn't raped and pillaged in over a week, and he needed some action.  Striding forth like a sleekly-smooth tiger after a day gnawing on gazelle bones, Ares decided to visit Iphicles' palace, where everyone was congregated for the annual gunny-sack races.  One masterful wrist- flick later, the god re-appeared in a silk-lined bedroom illuminated by the wondrous light of a million candles.

Through the smoke and heat, he saw a figure on the bed draped in a frothy confection of strawberry silk that revealed massive breasts and mile-long legs.  Her scarlet cascading curls trailed over the pillows and onto the floor, and she absently twirled a perfect ringlet around one finger.  The god made a sound, animalistic and manly, like a boar taking a dump, and the maiden looked up.

"Prithee, fair sir, thou hast entered a maiden's chambers.  Get thee hence, lest my virtue be tainted by a masculine virility so strong I can nearly smell it."

"Huh?" said the god.

"Wait! Thou must surely be none other than my lord and master, Ares, the dark god of war."

"Yeah.  Sorry.  Wrong room."  His fingers nearly connected in a snap when she leapt like a dainty pony from the bed, capturing them against her heaving bosom.

"My love, my darling.  How I have longed for this blessed union.  Please, dearest lover, let me feel thy pulsing scepter of divine fertility inside my warm mound of delights."


Just then the door burst open.  Stumbling into the room was a gangly, pale warrior with the face of a litter runt and capped with an odd chapeau.  "I'm Joxer the Mighty! Now unhand my true love at once!"

The lady turned her gemlike gaze toward him.  "Do not fret, sir.  I seek his attentions!  My sweet but alas long dead godmother, well-versed in the arts of prophecy, recounted to me when I was but a young babe how a strong warrior would plow my hungry field--"

"I wasn't talking to you," Joxer snapped.  He pushed her out of the way, then dropped to the stone floor, hugging the god around his knees.  "Ares! I love you!  I know I'm ugly and look like my mother dresses me, but I know you'll see beyond that to my inner goodness and--"

Ares grimaced.  "Don't be disgusting.  You look like a slug.  I'm here for Iphicles."

The girl, perkily recovering from Joxer's gut-searing rejection, interrupted.  "We will find him together, dear-heart.  Come, prithee let us depart and leave this foul churl behind."

Joxer looked up at her in annoyance. "Exactly who are you, anyway?"

Fluttering lashes thick as caterpillars, the maiden giggled like a hyena after a weeklong binge.  "I am none other than Origina L. Characterus.  You may now fall in love with me."

"Origina?  Sounds like a cross between orifice and vagin--"

Origina covered her shell-pink ears.  "It's Latin," she mumbled.  Then, feistily: "I'm here on a diplomatic mission with the Roman Emperor.  With my knowledge of fifteen languages, not to mention inimitable ukelele-playing skills, I'm invaluable to Caesar."  She hurried to the cedar chest at the bed's foot, fumbling in its recess until, triumphant, she pulled out her instrument.  "Let me serenade you, snookums, with my sweetly-melodious voice.  Prithee."  Her fingers, long and thin like dessicated bones, began to strum the cat-gut strings, and her mouth opened wide, displaying firm, red tonsils.  "My love is stronger than a randy bull,/Bend to my knees and show you I will./My heart pounds faster than a drum,/If I'm lying, spank my bum.../"

"Holy Hades," Ares said, chocolate-syrup-sprinkled-with-butterscotch-eyes widening in dismay.  His fingers frantically snapped in the air, but he couldn't vanish.  Not with Joxer clinging so fiercely to his leg.  Impatient to see his lover, the god marched forth with the warrior-wanna-be dragging behind him.  It made walking difficult, but he had a king to screw.  To the rear trailed Origina, squawking her merry tunes of love as she strummed enthusiastically on her trusty ukelele.

Several palace guards stared at the trio in surprise, but Ares ignored them, heading, if a bit awkwardly, like a jungle cat with a monkey strapped to its leg, to the next bedroom.  Smashing down the door with his unJoxered-leg, Ares stepped in, only to cover his full, ripe, lush mouth with one great, big paw.  "The horror...the horror..."

Snuggled up next to each other on a red velvet divan sat none other than Hercules, legendary hero, and his adorable, chipmunk-faced sidekick, Iolaus. Beside them on a table sat the remains of a banquet: chicken carcasses, crumbs from a dozen loaves of bread, empty pie plates.

"Kiss me," the divine blond hunter intoned.  "Kiss me, big guy.  After that meal, I've worked up an appetite for you.  I love you so much.  Be with me now."

"Forever," the silk-tressed hero replied.  "I'll never let you go again, little buddy."  Their heroic lips met, and the candlelit chamber heated a hundred degrees from the intensity of their burning love, purer than a horde of turtle doves.

"Oh, that's so good.  Never leave me, Herc.  If I die again, and I surely will, please rescue me from the depths of Tartarus and carry me away in your strong, mannish arms."

"I will...I must."  The words slipped out in a sob, and the big-bodied son of Zeus shook with fierce tears.  "I'm so sorry I couldn't save you last time, Iolly.  I wanted to so much...My heart bled during our separation. Even Ares couldn't make up for my heart-shattering loss--I mean...uh..."  He broke off, wiping his running eyes and nose on the edge of his vest.

"You...and Ares?"

"I was drunk," the god announced from the doorway.

"Love me sweetly with your lips,/Seed me, baby, and discard the pips./The fire's blazing in my hearth,/Be with me, love, and move my earth," sang Origina.

But the enraptured lovers heard nothing but their own voices.

"Oh the pain...the betrayal.  Yes," Herc sniffled, "I was with Ares. Whenever you disappear, he always shows up and we screw a few times.  It means nothing.  Just sibling rivalry compounded by an unresolved Oedipal complex and latent incestuous attraction.  I'm so sorry, my beautiful blond hunter."  He planted a soggy kiss on Iolaus' brow.

The smaller man quivered like a leaf caught in a summer storm.  "I'm sorry, too, Herc. More so than you realize.  You see..." He broke off, his azure-blue eyes filling with large, crystal tear drops.

"You can tell me anything."

"I...Whenever I die, Ares fucks me, too.  I'm sorry, Herc.  I try to resist him, but his cock is over three feet long, and he uses it better than a housewife with a broom.  But it's just sex.  With you, it's spiritual. You're my soul.  My heart.  My intestines.  My..."

A searching kiss, and suddenly Iolaus collapsed back against the couch, trembling like a leaf in a hurricane.  He groaned, then a big wet spot appeared on his pants.

"I hope that's not pee," Joxer said from Ares' leg.

"He came, you idiot," the god explained.

Another kiss between the passionate heroes, a little bumping and grinding, then Iolaus collapsed again on the couch, the wet spot growing between his legs.

Joxer's eyes knitted into a frown.  "That was fast."

Herc's tongue snaked like a slippery serpent over Iolaus' taut, pebbled brown nipples.  The wet spot grew even more.

"Now hold on a minute!" Joxer said.  "Three times in thirty seconds?  That's not possible.  And how come Iolaus is spurting all over the place, but Hercules never comes?"

Origina, imbued with the wisdom of the ages, answered through song.  "Their love is purer than the rose,/That's why he comes like a water through a hose./The lovers' passion climbs higher than a mountain/That's why the little guy comes like a fountain."

"Let's get outta here before I vomit," Ares roared, and the trio continued their search for Iphicles.

Joxer, still clutching the war god's adamantine thigh, suddenly leeched even closer. "What's that?"

From somewhere down the long corridor they could hear a steady *thwack* *thwack* *thwack*

"Sounds like love turned dark and inky./I suspect it's something kinky," trilled the flame-haired Origina, fingers dancing like Rockettes over the ukelele's fretboard.

Moving as hurriedly as he could, Ares half-loped, half-limped down the dark hallway.  A single door emerged from the Tartarian gloom, and he slowly turned the round brass handle.  Even Origina paused in her song as the three peered into the shadows.

"It's just stairs," Joxer said, disappointed.  "Look, Ares, let's just go and be together in eternal bliss.  You help me find my inner strength, and I can help you find your inner gentleness."

Ares rolled his eyes.  "I'm the god of war, you crazy freak!  I'm *supposed* to be a violent psychopath!"  He took off again, deliberately knocking Joxer's head into the wall every time he climbed down one of the twisting steps.

They walked for miles it seemed, and the sound grew louder.

"Yikes!" screamed Origina with a suddenness that bordered on lunacy.


"My sweet dark master, I was too modest to mention this earlier, but I was born with the gift.  Like my godmother, I have the power to behold the future.  It's a curse, really, to see the future unfolding, but I bear my cross with the strength of a thousand men.  Oh, the things I've seen--"

"Could you get to the point?"

Her jade-ish emerald eyes, glittering like the sea, bore into him.  "You're not gonna like what you see," she said, emphasizing her words by prodding his washboard belly with her ukelele.

Ares, his eyes blazing like the two deepest pits in the Underworld, charged like a randy jaguar at the door before them, tearing it from its hinges.

Another set of oblivious lovers.   One, lighthouse-long legs enveloped in eye-poppingly tight leather, bare-shirted, had a tattoo on his right shoulder blade, reading, "I love me" and another, larger one on his left: "I saw.  I conquered. I came."  His hair, cut in mother-with-rusty-scissors-and-a-bowl fashion, clung damply to his forehead.  In one mighty hand, he held a whip, which he used on the man dangling helplessly from iron chains.

"I'm going to flay you alive, then fuck your bloody body until you come, screaming my name.  I'm going to flog you til your flesh hangs in strips, then jerk off into your wounds while I stroke your cock.  I'm going to..."

"Caesar, when do I get to be on top?  I've had a tough life, you know.  My mother never loved me, my brother's a hero who thinks I'm a loser. I only got this lousy job as king 'cos my stepfather felt sorry for me.  It'd be nice if *I* could be the one in charge for once."

"I think not," the emperor said.   "I am destiny.  I am the future.  I am history.  I am..."

"A big bully," Iphicles said, his full lower lip wobbling.  "I want to be the tyrant for awhile.  YOU can be the helpless maiden."

"Don't cry! Your mascara will run, and you won't look pretty anymore," Caesar said almost desperately.  "C'mon, Iph.  You can have your turn when I'm done."

"No! I'm finished with you."  He tugged on the chains, which automatically unlocked, and dropped to the floor.  His pink skirt flared around his hips, revealing matching lace panties stretched over a gigantic erection.

"Oh my," said Origina.  "I think I'm going to faint."

"Iphicles sure is pretty," noted Joxer wistfully.  His grip on Ares' leg loosened noticeably.

"Hey Caesar."  Ares' voice, deep and low like a snarling wildebeest, caught the man's attention.

The ruler of the world paled visibly.  "Uh oh."

"I hear you're looking for a new helpless maiden," the god growled.  "Well, I can help you out there."  A snap of his fingers, and the impossibly-tight leathers vanished, replaced by a frilly white blouse, short pink skirt, and artfully-applied matching lipstick.  "I've been very, very bad, Mr. Big Bad Ruler of the Known World..."

Iphicles, meanwhile, was eyeing Joxer.  "You like it down there?" he asked with marked interest.

"Yeah.  I'm always happiest on the bottom."  He crawled over to Iphicles, resting his head, puppy-like against the huge erection threatening to tear the pink parties apart.

"Ummmm...guys?  What about me?"  Origina asked.

Before the others could tell her to bugger off, an oddly-familiar yell resounded through the chamber.

"Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii..."  With her trade-mark shriek, Xena bounded into the room, landing directly before Origina, hand on her chakram.

"And who're you?"  the virgin asked.

"The strong warrior who's gonna plow your field, sweetcakes," the warrior princess replied with a grin, drawing the other woman into a passionate embrace.

And they all lived happily ever after


Iolaus died a few more times, and Ares boinked both him and Herc, causing much grief, regret and orgasms.  Caesar got jealous and went after Iphicles again, who submitted but whined so much the whole time about his troubles that the emperor turned to Joxer, who actually looked pretty good in the frilly white blouse and short pink skirt.  Iphicles, furious, threw himself at Hercules, which infuriated Ares, who...

The End