Hedony: Galatea’s Deflowering

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This is part of a series set on Hedony, an adults-only pleasure planet where anything can happen, in a distant future. They can generally be read in any order but this installment is a sequel to E-written Hedony: What Big Eyes You Have and I recommend reading that story first. If you don’t, you’ll need to know the Cirque, an interactive adult theater spectacular based loosely on Ovid’s Metamorphosis, is the longest-running erotic show on Hedony.

Some of the themes are similar across the whole series, as I tend to like a bit of pain with my pleasure, but they span a wide variety of categories. I hope you’ll let me know if you’re enjoying them.

I’m putting this story in Anal but considered putting it in SF/Fantasy, Fetish, BDSM, or even Reluctant.


“Red, I got it! I got the internship! I get to spend the next year on Hedony working at the Cirque! And they’re going to let me do my own work once a month, a showcase one off each time. They like to keep it fresh so that people can come back more than once during a trip and always see something new.” Malcom entered my room like a hurricane.

“I’m so excited for you! It’s everything you worked for.” It was true, he’d worked so hard for this. I was disappointed we’d be apart for so long just when he’d finally started to see me as more than a friend but I was genuinely thrilled for him.

“Come with me! They’re giving me a one bedroom apartment in the staff housing and it says right here I can bring a partner. Come! You were planning to do your independent study remote anyway, living on the Serenity with the folks to save credits. Live with me and you’ll have better Lens access to the library and I’ll make you breakfast in bed once a week.”

“Is that all I’ll get in bed? Or does your offer come with other perks?”

He pulled me close and tipped my chin up. His mouth captured mine in a kiss that was at once familiar and achingly new, a warm soft eternity that turned hot and demanding, lips and tongues and Malcom, ending with a nip on my bottom lip. “Come and I’ll tie you the damn bed then fuck you so hard you’d fall out without the support.”

I laughed breathlessly. “With an offer like that how could I say no?”


It worked out well. We were both used to sharing tight quarters on the Serenity, the long-haul space trawler our parents worked on, spacer kids who never got used to all the room you found in most dirt side accommodations. Even with Malcom’s gadgets and fabrics taking up every surface and hidy-hole in the apartment, it was still plenty of space for us. He loved his work and I was delighted to discover I had access to the trans-Lens library hub for Hedony U thanks to a reciprocal arrangement with our university.

He came into the kitchen area looking harried. “Red, do you remember the last time I asked for a favor?”

I did. Vividly. The last time he’d asked for a favor had been when he’d desperately needed a partner for his internship tryout at the Cirque. I’d ended up bound, transformed into a werewolf, with a lifelike tail sprouting from my ass, and Malcom fucking me for the first time – in front of a crowd. I got wet just thinking about it.

“They give us a budget for our showcases, but it’s not very much, considering some of the tech I’m working with. I get to keep the patents on anything I develop, I just have to make sure I fill my monthly slot with something worthy of the Cirque, or I could lose the internship altogether.”

“Not to mention how it would look for your future employment. Ok, what’s the problem? I know you don’t lack for ideas.” I gestured at our living area, every wall covered in designs, sketches, and blueprints, every nook and cranny stuffed with fabric, circuitry, and models.

“Red, you were so amazing at my tryout. Would you be willing to model for me again? If I don’t have to pay models I’ll have a bigger budget for my effects.”

I stared at him. The last time had been so intense. He’d told me almost nothing about what would happen and my reactions bahis siteleri weren’t acting so much as they were reacting. “Can you tell me more about what you have in mind or do you need me in the dark again?” I shivered at the thought.

He pulled me to my feet and held me close, so I was enveloped by the smell of him. “I can tell you Red, but if you trust me I think I can create the effect I’m after more completely.”

Thinking about how helpless I’d been, how fully I’d been consumed by the scene he created, I nodded against his chest. “I trust you. Let’s show them how incredible an artist you are.”


I woke in darkness. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t so much as open my eyes. I wasn’t sure how I was breathing. I seemed to be fully encased in something. It was smooth, and cold, and slightly powdery against my skin. I was upright but I wasn’t standing so much as I was supported by whatever was imprisoning me.

I had no memory of how I’d gotten here. If I’d fully understood what I was agreeing to I might not have said yes so readily. But I wasn’t lying when I said I trusted Malcom. We’d grown up together on the Serenity, and been inseparable ever since.

Earlier in the day he’d prepped me in our apartment. He’d had me shower one last time and clean myself inside and out. He’d laid me on our bed on top of a towel and had me spread my legs, revealing my most intimate self to his assessing eyes. He’d massaged cream into the crisp curls I kept in a neat triangle above my sex, then had passed a temporary lase over them, sheering off curls and cream in a single pass, the heat a fast prickle against my skin. He hadn’t touched my lower lips, no matter how temptingly they pouted at him. Last time he’d said their tendency to stay neatly closed until disturbed, no matter my level of arousal, was perfect for the visual he wanted to create. Apparently, that was true this time as well. I fought the urge to rub my thighs together in frustration as he helped me up, unwilling to disturb his work.

Malcolm had dried and styled my hair with my back to the mirror, so I couldn’t see it. He’d posed me just so and given me a soft kiss. “Trust me. This will be amazing.” He’d put something on the back of my neck, under the edge of my hair and given it a tap. It had to have been an inhibitor chip, one of those ones they use when they’re putting someone into cryo for a Lens-less deep space mission, so they won’t move or freak out while they freeze solid. I couldn’t move, could barely feel. He gently closed my eyes. I stayed in whatever position he maneuvered me into. He sprayed me with something, it was cool and I cooled with it. I could feel him meticulously covering every inch of me, but it felt distant, my body disconnected from my mind, like that moment before slumber where your mind floats separate from your sleep paralyzed form. In the instant before I would have panicked, my mind winked off.

He’d put an inhibitor chip on me! I couldn’t move, couldn’t see, wasn’t sure I breathed. But I could hear. I could hear music and a rhythmic scraping sound. Gradually I could feel first something skitter, scrape against my skin, followed by a breath of air. It repeated again and again, so that I was unearthed and exposed, naked and still motionless. I realized distantly I was rigid, even without my tomb encasing me. I dully felt hands caressing me, hips and breasts, sides and ass, lips pressing against my lips, but there was no give to my body. My skin felt stiff and unnatural, blunted and unyielding. I was petrified, imprisoned in my own body. I felt the weight of something settle on my neck, across my breasts.

The music swelled, a bright light flashed, and my eyelids opened wide without my volition. I could see my own right arm stretched out before me, positioned as though beseeching a stone statue of an impassive Greecian goddess that stood opposite me, on the other side of a marble-floored space with slender pillars surrounding it, the sky above full of Maxwell Parrish clouds. The goddess had canlı bahis siteleri one breast bare of her flowing stone draperies and in her right hand was a golden apple. Her hair was an elaborate arrangement of deep drilled curls. My own arm and hand matched hers, an unnatural, uniform, ivory white. A dark-haired, togaed man knelt with his back to me at an altar below the goddess’ feet, incense curling up from his offering. The altar was lit by two more bright flashes of dancing flame, silhouetting the man against them. I still had no power to speak or to move anything but my eyes. But even that felt almost orgasmic after my total lack of control.

The man, my Malcom, turned to me and crossed the space in five long strides. He didn’t seem to see my living eyes. His own eyes traced his hands’ path on my stony curves, the feeling for me still blunted and distant. He pivoted all of me slightly to the left, turning the dais I stood on so easily it must be some kind of turntable. Out of the corners of my eyes, I could now see around us, beyond the pillars, a familiar crowd of masked faces, interspersed with thin saplings, blank faces of white, pink, red, and black. All the spectators at the Cirque wore masks. Hungry eyes devoured my strange, rigid nudity. My wild-eyed helplessness.

The two fingers of Malcom’s right hand came to the junction of my legs, found my slit and pushed fully and ostentatiously in, filling me overfull, finding me yielding flesh in that one place. I would have gasped had I been able to, the invasion so quick and thorough. I’m sure my eyes reflected my shock, but my body was already wet and somehow wanting the rough intrusion. He threw a look of disbelief back at the goddess, then a smile of wild, savage delight crossed his face.

He threw off his toga, standing a moment tall and proud, his heavy cock jutting in front of him. Then he mounted the dais and bending his knees, positioned himself to my one unpetrified orifice and surged against me, blunt and feeling even wider than usual. He had to ram himself in, short, sharp thrusts, as though conquering my stony body, as though chiseling through my resistance until he was fully seated in me, against my quivering womb. Then he started to fuck me, power strokes, his strong legs and hips thrusting against the column of my unmoving body, as though I were an extension of the dais below me, as unmovable as a stone. I’m sure the hungry audience was treated to a mesmerizing contrast, his warm honey skin, clenching buttocks, and ragged breathing, against my immovable, immaculate ivory stillness, only my eyes animated in my statue body.

Malcolm’s thrusts grew more frantic, more punishing, his breath a bellows, and finally a grunting cry as he emptied himself into me. He pulled free and his spunk flowed down, hot and living against my marble skin. He scooped it up and painted it across my mouth, and as he did so I felt my lips curl up into a smile. My skin warmed and I could see color racing down my arm, painting in all the blushing shades of living flesh, nanobots flaking away like sparkling fairy dust. I pulled his head down for a kiss, sharing back his salty essence.

He kissed me passionately then drew back and pushed me down to my knees on the dais, pulling me to his spent and flaccid cock. I worshipped him, cupping his warm balls in my newly soft hand, trying to ignore the watching eyes and concentrate only on the feel of his hands fisted in my piled-up curls, the feel of his flesh growing between my lips and gagging down the back of my throat, my neck, I knew from experience, visually bulging from his girth. Like a sword swallower’s finale, he pulled himself back out of my face, erect and heavy once more. I panted, nuzzling against his hip for a moment. Then he lept off the dais and turned, scooping me up, carrying me those five strides across the peristyle to the goddess’ altar.

He laid me down on my stomach across the altar, my head turned to the watchers, the long golden necklace that adorned my neck imprinting itself canlı bahis into my flesh under my body weight. I felt him spread my ass, displaying me even more intimately to the eager eyes, then he spat on my hole. It was wet and slick and I felt it fully, undulled by any interference. I glanced back over my shoulder as far as I could, twisting back. He gazed up at his goddess as he fitted his wide head to my ass.

We hadn’t done this yet. I hadn’t done this yet. I mean, we’d played with plugs but I hadn’t actually, actually done this yet and now I was going to get my ass truly fucked for the first time in the Cirque, with all the avid eyes and expressionless masks turned to us. It somehow felt right. Like I truly was his creation, brought to life by the magic of this place and this night. His to claim in the most intimate way and public way imaginable.

He pushed forward, my eyes bulged. I bore down, teeth clenched, willing myself to open, to grant him access. My hands braced on the goddess’ cold toes, I pushed my ass back against him, ground my slick, straining flesh against his hot bluntness. He reached down between my legs and gathered our mingled cum, scooping it over both of us. Then bringing both hands to my hips, he pulled me inexorably back against him. Pain flared, hot and bright, a stretch beyond anything I’d ever felt. I knew I could signal, I could stop this and he’d take my cunt and it would still be glorious, but I was determined, he would have my ass.

I would have him inside me there and now. Tears ran down my checks but I felt my flesh slowly yield, wider and wider and wider still until I snapped around the ridge of his head and the bulk of his foreskin. He was in. And somehow inside I was moist and yielding, as slick as my weeping, empty cunt. I had a moment to realize he must have added everlube to my ass while I was out with the inhibitor chip. Somehow that thought, his hands on my naked helpless body, touching me, penetrating me so intimately before he encased me in the aircrete, was incredibly hot.

I moaned and bucked back harder, swallowing down half of his length in a rush. Oh I was full. Overfull. Overfull and swallowing down yet more, his strong thighs, his long thrust driving the air from my lungs and every thought from my head. All I could do was stare out at the audience as he pummeled me, giving me all of himself in that impossible tightness and then drew back to give it to me again. I could see hands moving among the trees, bodies writhing together in time with our thrusts but all of my attention was focused inward, my own body caught in the same rhythm, impaling itself on heat and pain just barely the right side of too much, again and again.

He surged forward even harder, finding just the barest breath of more depth and I exploded. He shouted into my back as he came, and my shivering aftershocks pulsed around him for long moments, clasping him hard as he softened inside me until at last he slithered free of my tight heat. He stepped back, granting the audience a clear view of my open hole trying vainly to regain its tightness, quivering and leaking his cum down my already messy thigh. He massaged my ass checks, then licked a long line up over my asshole, cleansing me.

He gathered me into his arms and stepped around the statue into the shadows, through a hidden door that closed soundlessly behind us. With my last glimpse of the goddess’ face, I realized she was now smiling benevolently down on us all.











-Ovid, The Metamorphosis, Book I0, Pygmalion and the Statue

If you enjoyed my story, please let me know. If you didn’t, I’d love to know how I can improve. If enough people liked it I’ll post more Hedony stories. I have a few more ideas for these two. And if you ever get the chance to experience Sleep No More in NYC, or anything else by Punchdrunk, do it. It’s the closest you’ll come to the Cirque.

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