Prometheus

by Eric Arvin

One spring morning while walking in the woods that surrounded his home Jeremiah Bluker came across a man tied to a very large tree. The man was naked, and blindfolded with a strip of gold cloth. He sat calmly at the base of the tree. His hands were tied above his head with silver chain link. His large legs were sprawled in front of him and his goodly-proportioned manhood rested on the ground for all the forest to wonder at. His beautiful, muscular form was undeniable to Jeremiah who blushed upon looking on him. Jeremiah was a simple farmer, and naked men tied to trees was not something he had ever heard of before. Being that the man was blindfolded he took the opportunity to let his eyes wander over this marvel of creation. The huge phallus must surely be useless, for no woman could fit it inside her, and no mouth was wide enough for it either. Such abnormalities and the prospects they present titillate the senses.

            “Are you he?” the naked man spoke. He was still quite calm, though helpless and at the mercy of his surroundings.

            “Am I who?” Jeremiah asked, approaching the stranger cautiously.

            “It is you. I know you by your voice.”

            Jeremiah was certain he had never met the man. He would have remembered such unnatural beauty. Yet, his sleep of late had been disturbed. Perhaps he had met this man in the village, but by some temporary amnesia was unable to place him.

            “I do not know who you think I am,” Jeremiah said, “but you seem to be in need of help. I shall undo your bonds. Who tied you thus?”

            “You may do as you wish,” the beautiful man spoke gently. “But you will be unable to loosen the chain and free me.”

            “It’s simple enough. The chain looks to be only wrapped around and tied to that tree limb.” He examined the chain more thoroughly, taking his eyes for a moment off the phallus on its bed of leaves. “Yes. Most easily undone.”

            “That might be. But you will not be able to accomplish this task. You will be distracted. You always are.”

            Jeremiah stopped and stared at the man. What a strange thing to say, he thought. Could this man be insane? Was he tied here in the woods, left here, because of some mental defect?

            “How did you come to be here? Who did this to you?” Jeremiah asked again. He felt the chains, the smooth and ice of them. He tried pulling and felt some give. But his eyes were beginning to lose focus on what he was doing. They began to wander again, to drift downward in the area of the stranger’s crotch. The beautiful man’s manhood began to grow like a snake twisting through the undergrowth of the forest. It rose, climbing to an awesome size such as Jeremiah could never have fathomed. And it was stunning. Perfect. A flawless work of art carved from flesh. Veins ran through its neck like azure jewelry. Beneath the great sluice lay a sack of the fullest, most delectable balls. Canons had not shot balls as large.

            Jeremiah tried to restrain his glance, to focus again on the chain, but his fingers no longer cared for that task. They wanted another to keep them busy.

            “You are unable, you see?” the man said.

            Jeremiah dropped to his knees onto the fallen leaves and grass. “Why am I unable? What is it that draws me to you?” He heard his voice as if in a dream. It echoed and was muffled by a haze of lust.

            “Explanations are beyond us. I am your task now.”

            Jeremiah hardly looked at it as a task. He relished what the man had invited him to do. Something that was forbidden in the village. But here in the woods he was able to indulge. A fever permeated his entire form. He felt his hands hotter for the touch of the man, as if they would scorch the very flesh of the stranger’s manhood that was now being touched, stroked, kissed, and licked. As if his fingers might boil the fine, large eggs that he now fondled and brought as best he could into his mouth. The impossibility of it, trying to take the phallus into him in any way he could. He was becoming obsessed with the struggle. The more he was thwarted, the harder he tried. The friction of Jeremiah’s attempts at possessing made the thing larger, more gorgeous. Jeremiah was dazzled as the bulbous head of the shaft turned a deep, shining purple, then exploded with a shower of white that seemed not to want to ever stop. Even after that the shaft stood erect, dribbling, and non-defeated. Jeremiah went down again and again. And every time the stranger’s phallus would burst into the world its new seed. Jeremiah was insatiable and continued with his play well into the night. He would have taken the man inside him by more pleasurable means if he thought he could survive it.

            At last, the jeweled neck became placid, and Jeremiah found his desire too was fading and he only wanted to sleep. Feeling incapable of finding his way back home in the dark, he curled up beside the chained man, resting his head on the stranger’s broad chest.

            “What are you doing here?” he asked, sleepily. “Why could I not release you?”

            “Explanations are beyond us. We are what we are. We must be satisfied with that.”

            “You are like Prometheus, I think. Unable to be freed. Drained of your seed every night for some sin against the gods.”

            “Possibly. But I am blindfolded. If I have sinned, I do not see it.” He paused. “And you? Do you see yours?”

            “I can remember no sin,” Jeremiah said with a yawn. “I’ll free you in the morning.”

            “No, my friend,” said the man. “You will forget I am here until you go for your morning stroll. I am chained by some other man’s wish, but I remember things. You are free to do what you will, but ignorant. What is your sin?”

Coming Soon!