From: Michael Gouda <stachys@eurobell.co.uk>
Subject: Clovis and Spiro (m/m t/t)
Date: Sat, 22 Nov 1997 00:48:02 GMT
Approved: moderated.stories@bigfoot.com

                           CLOVIS AND SPIRO
                        The Tale of Ganymede
                   (The 13th Labour of Heracles)

Swirling clouds surrounded the inaccessible summit crags of Mount Olympus
and from his impressive, though not very relaxing throne the Old God peered
short-sightedly downwards and tried to make out what his subjects were doing
in the world below. Why do the clouds always have to form round here, he
wondered tetchily. They were damp and made him wheeze so that he had to wear
Thermogene underwear and get his chest rubbed.  He thought about hurling a
thunderbolt to disperse them but it was too much trouble. He shifted
uncomfortably. The marble seat was aggravating his piles and Ganymede had
forgotten - again - to put out the cushions which provided some relief for
his aching bottom. Zeus sighed. It was all very well being immortal but it
didn't stop you getting old!

"Ganymede. Ganymede," he called but his voice sounded hoarse and croaky and
his cup-bearer, who was getting very deaf these days, didn't hear.

His wife, though, great Hera waddled in as she always did when he called for
Ganymede. How she could still be jealous after all these aeons, Zeus didn't
know. The only things stiff about his aged body these days were his limbs.

"Hail, great Zeus," said Hera, her raddled face painted with some red
pigment which made her look feverish rather than attractive. "What can
Ganymede provide that your faithful wife cannot?"

"I only wanted some cushions and perhaps a glass of mulled nectar." Zeus
realised that there was a whine in his voice.

"Oh - servant's duties," said Hera shortly. "And there was I in the middle
of writing a letter to mother. I'll see if I can find him and pass on your
order." She disappeared and Zeus sighed. Again he stared down and this time
a gap appeared in the clouds and he saw down onto the sun-drenched slopes,
where pale blue-grey rocks were clothed with cypress and olive trees, the
sun squeezing amber resin tear drops from the bark, and white marble temples
stood in honour of the Gods. His eye was caught by a sudden movement. There
were two figures there. Now what on earth were they doing?

The two boys, Clovis and Spiro, sat side by side in the shade cast by an
olive tree out of the burning heat of the midday sun, the bleached rocks
reflecting the light and heat. Their tunics were up above their waists and
their hands were clasped round each other's erect pricks which they were
energetically pumping. "I'll bet you three obols that I can make you come
first," said Spiro and immediately increased the rate of his stroke.

"Done," said Clovis and started thinking of all the unpleasant things he
could, lessons in school, his elder brother, cleaning out the stables - but
it was no good, he could not stop the relentless build-up in his loins. "Oh,
oh, oh," he cried, arching himself upwards and spraying jets of his vital
fluids onto his stomach and chest, even over Spiro. It was as if the
determination not to come had only increased his potency.

Spiro laughed and allowed himself to finish.

Old Zeus muttered to himself. The sight of the two young boys busily
frotting each other had sparked off a memory of his own youth. Could it be
that something was stirring between his own legs? Ganymede came in bearing a
pile of cushions to make his lord more comfortable. Zeus looked at him and
wondered at the change from the beauteous youth he had taken as his
cup-bearer - and bed-sharer - so long ago. Now his firm golden flesh had
grown soft and flabby. his eyes lost their lustre, his walk its grace but
there were still some vestiges of the youth that had been the glorious son
of King Tros. "So long ago," whispered great Zeus. "Long, long ago!"

"Long, long ago," said the blind Master standing in front of his class of
boys, "when the Gods were powerful and interfered in the ways of man, there
was a great hero - everyone knows his name for he was Heracles."

Spiro sighed for, as the Master had said, everyone knew the story of
Heracles and his Twelve Labours and it would be tedious to have to listen to
that old tale yet again.

"Now who can tell me who was Heracles' father?"

"Great Zeus, Most Powerful of the Gods," chorused the class.

"And who was his mother?" That was more difficult but Spiro knew.

"Queen Alcmene, daughter of Electryon and grand-daughter of Perseus," he
said and received an approving look from the Master and a sly dig in the
testicles from Clovis for being teacher's pet.

"But because Zeus had strayed from his marriage vows, his wife Hera was
jealous and hated Heracles, even though he was named after her. Now by a
trick Hera was persuaded to suckle the young hero and thus he became
immortal though not before allowing a spurt of the divine milk to escape
from his mouth and become the stars of the Milky Way in the sky. For this
Hera hated him even more and made him mad so that in his fit he killed his
sons." Spiro yawned and, to amuse himself, tickled Clovis where he knew he
was most sensitive so that Clovis could not help but make a sound.

"Who is that?" asked the Master and Clovis was forced to answer. "It was I,
Clovis, Master. I, er, stubbed my foot."

"So, Clovis of the stubbed foot, what happened in the story then?"

"Master, when Heracles regained his sanity he was very upset and he went to
the Oracle at Delphi who told him he must bind himself to King Eurystheus
and carry out all the tasks that the king would set him."

"Well done, Clovis, and perhaps you would ask Spiro who is sitting next to
you not to cause you to cry out again."

Spiro marvelled that the blind man should be so aware of what was going on
and had the grace to look embarrassed.

"So, how many tasks did King Eurystheus set Heracles?"

The class chorused obediently, "Twelve, Master." and Spiro said under his
breath, "Everyone knows that."

"No, there you are wrong - even you, Spiro. He was set twelve tasks which he
accomplished and one extra at which he failed and it is the thirteenth
Labour of Heracles that I will tell you now."

The class sat attentively for a new story was always worth listening to.
"After the twelfth labour which, as you know, was the capture of the
three-headed dog of the Underworld, Cerberus, King Eurystheus became
overbold. If Heracles had got the better of the God Hades, why should he not
now try with Zeus himself. So he called Heracles to him and said, 'This is
your final task. Go and get for me Ganymede, Cup-Bearer of the Gods and the
most beautiful youth that ever lived, for I want to try the pleasures of
such a divine creature myself.'"

"Now Heracles doubted the wisdom of upsetting the greatest of the Gods but
he was bound to undertake any task that Eurystheus should set him so
obediently he set out for the slopes of Mount Olympus at the top of which,
as everyone knows, live the Gods. Now Hera had heard all this for she kept a
constant watch on the activities of her husband's bastard, and she thought
this would indeed be a good opportunity, first to get her own back on her
errant husband, and secondly, when he discovered what was going on, for him
to punish Heracles. So she hid Heracles in a cloud of mist so that Zeus
would not see him climbing the mountain, and helped him to scale the almost
vertical pinnacles until he reached the portals of Olympus itself."

"Then she persuaded Ganymede to go outside so that Heracles could take him.
Now when Heracles saw Ganymede he was himself smitten with great wonder for
Ganymede was beautiful beyond compare. His locks were flaxen yellow and his
skin was as soft as silk and glowed with a golden light. His eyes were deep
blue sapphires and his mouth was the Gate of Heaven. He was tall and
straight and his body was as the statues of athletes but living and suffused
with health. And, as was the custom, he was naked and his manhood was as
beautifully formed as the rest of him. And Heracles thought, I shall not let
that randy old King have this creature for I want him myself."

"So he stepped from the cloud of mist and Ganymede saw the hero, Heracles
for the first time. Now Heracles was strong and handsome and dark as
Ganymede was fair. And he was dressed in the lion skin of the Nemean lion
but his passionate excitement was obvious for the pelt of the lion was
sticking out  in the front."

"And Heracles drew Ganymede back into the cloud of mist, and he went not
unwillingly and they were hidden from sight from both Gods and mortals - but
I will tell you what happened."

"First Heracles lay the willing Ganymede on his back amongst the
sweet-smelling herbs that grew in that place and lay on top of him so that
their bodies were joined at the breast and the hips and the loins. Then he
kissed him and their tongues were joined and they tasted the sweetness of
each other. Now their senses were inflamed and their pricks jousted in
amorous conflict and Ganymede wrapped his legs around Heracles' waist so
that the rosebud of his anus was exposed and immediately probed by his
questing finger."

"And Ganymede cried out, 'More, more,' so that Heracles put another finger
in and then a third and still Ganymede was not satisfied so he positioned
his cock which was the thickness of four or more fingers against the opening
and he thrust so that the vacant place was occupied and both experienced
great rapture. Then he moved in and out and each time he thrust Ganymede was
filled with delight as well as more material substance."

 Both Spiro and Clovis were enthralled by the story which was giving them
several ideas about future activities which they could try out together.

"At last," continued the Master, "Heracles reached his climax and pumped his
seed into Ganymede's entrails and the quantity of his seed was without
measure and the length of his orgasm was without time. And once Ganymede
felt the spurt inside him, his own climax ensued and both were satiated and
lay quietly together for a while."

"Now Hera, wishing to make trouble, told Zeus that King Eurystheus was
making the double-backed beast with Ganymede - for that was the original
intention - and Zeus in the quickness of a flash of lightning went down to
earth and waited disguised as a kestrel which hovered over the Palace."

"At last Heracles returned but he had not brought Ganymede and was alone. He
went to King Eurystheus who demanded, 'Where is Ganymede?' and Heracles
answered, 'I could not dishonour my father, Zeus, by bringing his Cup-Bearer
to be your catamite.' And King Eurystheus waxed exceedingly angry when a
kestrel suddenly stooped down from the skies above and struck him on the
forehead with his beak so that he fell down dead. Then Zeus himself appeared
and said to Heracles, 'Heracles, you are truly my son. Your sins are
pardoned.'"

"Thus because Heracles did not carry out the last labour and in fact
deceived and cuckolded his father, it has been conveniently forgotten by the
story-tellers."

After the lesson was over and the boys released, Clovis and Spiro returned
to their sheltered place amongst the olive trees where no one observed them
- except a distant eye from a mountain top.

"Let us enact the Tale of Ganymede and Heracles," said Spiro, "and, because
I won the last bet, I shall be Heracles."

"Only if you cancel my debt of three obols," said Clovis.

"Agreed," said Spiro. "Now I shall wear this piece of hide as my lion skin
but you must be naked."

So Clovis took off his chiton and Spiro did not need much attention before
his member was sticking out in front of him and making the hide stand out in
a very stimulating way. And Clovis moved towards him and truly in his youth
and freshness he looked as lovely as the fabled Ganymede.

Then Spiro said, "I am the hero, Heracles, and I am to take you, Cup-bearer
of the great God, for my master, King Eurystheus, but hold, I find you too
attractive so first I will ravish you myself." And the two boys giggled at
the game they were playing.

Then they grasped hold of each other and pretended to wrestle for a while
but all the time making sure they were rubbing their bodies together so that
their pricks rose and were engorged with blood. Then Spiro lay on top of
Clovis and kissed him but they were laughing so much that they spluttered
into each other's mouths and that made them laugh even more.

"Now you must wrap your legs around my waist, Ganymede," said Spiro "so that
the rosebud of your arse is exposed." But the idea of Clovis' little
shithole being likened to a rose was so ludicrous that they both collapsed
in helpless merriment and they rolled around together until they again felt
the sexual urge of their bodies.

Meanwhile on his now more comfortable throne, the aged God was again viewing
that activities of his young subjects. At first he could not understand why
they were calling each other 'Ganymede' and 'Heracles' but gradually
understanding dawned and he realised they were enacting something that had
happened many ages before between his son and his lover. Anger stirred.

Now Spiro was trying to put his prick into Clovis' hole but was having
trouble. "It hurts, Spiro," complained Clovis.

"Call me, Heracles," grunted Spiro who was trying to force a very tense
sphincter muscle and not being very successful.

"We need something to help it in, Heracles."

"I bet Zeus didn't have this trouble," said Spiro. "What can we use?"

"Try some olive oil," suggested Clovis. "That's slippery."

Spiro picked some ripe olives from the tree, crushed them in his hand and
rubbed them on his prick. It felt good. Then he gently pushed an oily finger
up Clovis' rectum. "That's better," said Clovis. "In fact that feels good.
Try a second finger. Oh yes!"

"Right, Ganymede," said Spiro. "Here comes your hero, Heracles," and he
inserted his oiled cock into the now ready opening. It slid in with only a
faint cry of protest from Clovis. The clamped feel of the tight muscle
around his cock and the warm and moist nest in which he found himself was in
itself a delight and he rested for a short while and allowed Clovis to get
accustomed to the alien thing inside his body.

Then gently Spiro began to move in and out.

There was a flash of lightning closely followed by an ear-splitting crack of
thunder and the olive tree under which they were performing was riven from
branch to root. The smell of burnt wood and the residual stench of ozone
hung in the air.

Terrified, Spiro's cock shrivelled and dropped out of Clovis.

A gaunt old man stood in front of them. He was clothed in an old-fashioned
hymation (or toga) and carried a piece of metal shaped like a lightning
flash in his hand. In spite of being very old, he had an unmistakable air of
majesty and authority about him. He also looked very angry. "What are you
children doing?" he demanded.

There was an obviously truthful answer but neither Clovis nor Spiro felt
like making it. "It was just a story," said Spiro. "We were playing a game."

"Have you no respect for the Gods?" was the next unanswerable question. "I
think you need to be taught a lesson." He raised his staff and pointed it at
the two boys. Instantly in the place of Spiro stood a doleful-looking donkey
while instead of Clovis writhed a large python.

Zeus looked at the two for a moment, raised his staff and vanished.

The aged Heracles, his muscles turned to flab and leaning on a stick, and
Ganymede stood in front of Zeus. The unaccustomed exercise of going down to
earth had not benefited the great God and he was out of breath so that when
he demanded of the two what had been going on between them in the days of
their youth, the question came out in short bursts and did not carry as much
of the authority he would have liked.

Heracles looked bewildered. He had been recalled from his place as a
constellation in the night sky and the rapid translation had confused him.

"Lord," he said, "there is nothing between us."

"What about you, Ganymede," demanded Zeus.

"Oh, Lord, I do not remember. It was all too long ago. Let me give your feet
a rub. You know that always calms you."

"I must know the truth," said Zeus petulantly, though the foot rub sounded
very attractive. He had grazed the soles of his feet on the rocky outcrops
of the mountain.

"What does it matter now anyway?" asked Ganymede. "Send Heracles back and
I'll get the oil ready."

Zeus sighed. He was right. It was all too long ago and did not matter now.
Just as long as those boys did not continue spreading the tale - and turning
them into animals had certainly stopped that. He gave a sign and both
Heracles and Ganymede left.

While Zeus waited for Ganymede's ministrations, he had one last look down
through the clouds. Under the riven olive tree, the donkey, with its huge
donkey cock was being fellated by the python who, as was possible with all
snakes of that sort, was able to dislocate its own jaws to accommodate large
prey. The two animals were obviously enjoying the activity and the braying
of the donkey echoed even as high as Mount Olympus.

"Hee- haw, HEE-HAW," said Spiro.

"Sssssssssuck," hissed Clovis.

Zeus laughed. "You two are incorrigible," he said and waved his staff.

Spiro was lying on his back amongst the short grasses and tussocks of
flowering thrift while Clovis, on all fours, crouched over him, his mouth
firmly fastened on the other boy's cock. For a moment he disengaged his
mouth to say, "Spiro, I think your prick is bigger than ever."

Spiro said, "Your mouth certainly is, Clovis. Don't stop!" and Clovis
resumed his activity.

-- 
Michael Gouda

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