Mr Swan and the Mere-boy by davistrell@aol.com
He had heard a singing, a youth's voice, past puberty but still soprano. He searched the craggy rock face spying out to see where it had come from. He looked down into the little bay, below the house.
A seagull dove into the water and scooped up a fish, almost as big as itself. Must've been a bird he'd heard. He waited, the sun fell into the sea. The moon gleamed. It was torrid, hot, suspenseful, the stickiness was palpable, wet to the touch. And after all the effort he decided to take a swim. He peeled down to his boxer shorts. He had a body of a forty year old and his chest hair had started to silver white. He sat in a rockpool, and finally almost timorously removed his shorts, and let his soft-hard penis swim against a lightly lapping wave.
He leaned back, all the way till his back was immersed and let the water take hold, and he floated, closing his eyes and the quiet sounds of the moonlit bay disappeared, and all was silence. He seemed to sleep, rolling like a small boat and dreamed.
Eventually the water grew cold, and he got out, walked to the water's edge, picked up his clothes, walked up the narrow pathway up the cliff, to the beach house. And somewhere in the sound of the water lap,lap, lapping, the swish of the cypress branches whispering in an almost non-existent wind he heard the voice again. He hesitated, smiled and said goodnight to the anonymous seagull.
The next evening, a little the worse from wear, endless bridge games; Mrs. Lennox had disapproved of his play, the clubs fell on diamonds and he was left to trump, but had no interest. He wanted to hear the seagull cry again. So next morning he woke early, down to the shore, down to the sea with rented boat.
On the skiff, a few hundred yards from shore, he felt the fishing rod bow, and bite. A big one, he thought. He fought the unequal battle; pulled up the sea-bass that struggled for life, drowning in the air. He threw it back, sat down, leaned at the edge of the boat saw his rippling reflection on the water. His strong fine almost aristocratic face, even on the undulating water he could see the world-weary lines on his face. A most pleasant day, the dying sun broke golden starflares on the gentle cresting waves. Below the surface he could see occasional fish with their strong sleek smooth bodies, mouths agape, their muscular undulation moving every which way under the azure surface. Crystal clear. He stood up in the boat strong with good sea-legs and stared at the shore. The coast was clear, even if there were people, they were too far away to see.
The boat lurched, he stumbled and climbing unexpectedly into the boat was a mere boy. Dark Italianate, with a toothy grin, lit with sunshine. An admixture of man and youth, beauteous to behold in his torrid nakedness.
Startled, Mr Swan shifted his weight but the boat was steady, apart from the sounds of hard breathing. The unannounced catch landed himself, looked up and beamed. The mere boy moved closer and hung at Mr Swan's lap. He sang and sounded like the bird. Round his waist there were seascales and his ears, not ears, were gills. He moved closer and lay his arms around Mr Swan's waist, and lay his head into Mr Swan's lap. He made cooing noises and half turned and Mr Swan let his hand dangle on the youth's back. A seamless crease and as his hands drifted downward felt the crease divide, and as his hands dwelt further downward as his hand found a spot, moist but tender to the touch. Mr Swan felt a hand hold his erection, and the hand gave it a caressing squeeze.
The boat lurched as a shifting of position took place and the mere boy took Mr Swan in his mouth. Mr Swan felt his cocktip enter walls as smooth as a fish's toothless maw and then a wresting as more of his maleness was drawn in.
A dream. All it was, was a dream and now the dream is over.
I shall drown myself, thought Mr Swan. The sea I love. Into its bosom I commend myself.
A splash and down, down into the unearthly green. Bubbles escaped his nose, his mouth. Down into the dark depths and a seaweed frond caught his leg.
The bubbles grew smaller, his last breath, he looked at it. Globules of oxygen that he would breathe no more. He smiled taking a last long look at the sky above. He breathed no more.
He awoke. In Atlantis. Water everywhere, here, as common as air. His lungs expanded taking in water. Then exhaled, water spilled out, visible, in sworls.
He had not drowned. What had happened.
"Good morrow sir, I'm glad at last thou has awakened."
Before him stood, rather bent toward him, touching his brow with a mop of sea-weed, was a youth, that earlier had only been a moment's fictitious imagination. The youth's face sharp, with aquiline nose, eyebrows arched, carved features, and hair that waved in an ocean's breeze.
"Take care sir, the wounds have only just healed, no strain, or you will break the sutures..."
Mr Swan looked around. Marble pillars, onyx walls, seashells of every magnitude, the decoration.
"Where am I ?" asked Mr Swan.
"Atlantis," said the mere boy." I am Namor, son of Poseidon, and you are home, at last."
"Am I dead or dreaming?"
"A little nitrogen narcosis, but otherwise all is well."
"This then is all delusion?"
"I am yours, you saved me, I am dedicated to you for all eternity," said the mere-boy.
Edward Swan found himself laying on a vast slab of lapis lazuli, in almost temple like surroundings, Greek Lekythoi, vases with intricate design, and mute statutes of kouri, naked youths, with unseeing eyes. And attending him a princely boy, that on the surface would have passed for eighteen or so. Infinitely handsome, his body especially the upper torso, well muscled, the arms long and strong, his legs, with hints of phosphorescent sea-scales, and a seashell covering his groin. His hair blue-black, long and flowing upward, like tendrils, swaying. He brought a golden goblet to Mr Swan's lips, holding his head, and helping him to drink, a viscous, orange-jelly like substance, that brought a sharp thrill as he swallowed.
"Thank you, I feel a little better. But I don't understand..."
Namor spoke, but his lips did not move.
"Your boat capsized, gentle sir, you would've drowned as you hit your head. I saw you and brought you here, to my father's domain."
Edward Swan sat up, the limp towel, drifted from his loins, and felt uncomfortable in his nudity. He covered himself with his hands, like a schoolchild.
"You said something about saving you...I still don't understand."
"You threw me back. I was the sea-bass...that you caught, look in my mouth, see the scar the hook made..."
"But...."
Namor laughed, and Mr Swan felt the laughter in his mind.
"Unlike you surface-dwellers, we are shape-shifters, and perforce can become any of the ocean creatures....."
And dissolved, grew large, drew out eight tentacles, with sucker caps on each and wrapped each coiled arm around Edward's body, in the form of an egg-plant colored squid, and the suckers, each a tiny mouth, covered Mr Swan with kisses. But seeing his guest take fright, moved again, became a porpoise, and nuzzled his snout against Mr Swan's chin.
"I like it best when you are a mere boy," said Mr Swan, and was pleased when Namor changed back.
"Do you feel well enough to swim?"
"I have no clothes..."
"None needed here, but if it makes you happy, I will bring a robe, of anenome-silk, and a turtle-shell phallus cover, if your nakedness embarrasses you."
And he swam off.
Edward got down from the slab and stood erect, letting the water engulfing him take hold. He drifted to the far wall, where he saw a mirror, and examined the place behind his ears, saw the marks of surgery, that enabled him to breathe down here, deep in the ocean's depths.
He looked into his own eyes, and saw that what should've been dead-mans eye's, sparkle with life, as he saw in the reflection, Namor's return. Swimming, with the grace of a barracuda.
He robed Mr Swan, who declined the turtle-shell cod-piece, and took him by the hand, and the two rose, effortlessly, propelled by their feet, and swam through the portico entrance. The new interior was dark, but Mr Swan trusted the handsome prince, who led the way. A glow in the distance seemed to be their destination.
"To see my father..." came the thought in Mr Swan's mind
Their legs beat, and they entered the royal throne-room.
Neptune, Poseidon, the king of the submarinic depths, stood before them in all his majesty and glory. Beside him, Triton, his attendant. Green scaled, gold wristlets and anklets, the feet webbed, and muscular as becomes a lithe warrior. The King, a giant in stature, a long flowing golden beard, eyes the color of fire, a body hewed, it appeared from granite, with a ruddy tan, and carrying the emblems of state, the silver trident, the crown of amethyst, radiating a sexuality, that is the divinity of a sovereign.
Namor and Edward stood before the lord of the sea, and the prince bowed, in a royal genuflection, which Edward tried to emulate.
"My son, my son, who is this land-leech, you bring before us?"
The voice had a booming quality, that made Edward's temples throb.
"He is my lord, O, great One; he saved my life, and as in accordance to ancient tradition, I am his, from now till forever!"
And speaking thus, approached Edward and intertwined his limbs around Edward, who felt the warmth of the youth's body pressed against his own, felt a flicking tongue dart in Edward's ear, felt his phallus gripped by a strong hand, and pressed in close, so Edward's penis grown erect, pressed against the youth's scalloped abdomen.
"He is mine: I am his, I will serve him faithfully, lasciviously, sensuously, carnally, intimately and, eternally. For I was a mere sea-bass, he caught me, but refrained from taking my life, allowed me back into our Father, the sea...I am his consort; my whole body and limb..."
"This cannot be! I forbid! That thou dear boy, would be the sot of this old man's lust. Unthinkable, an obscenity!...Thou art the prince...thou wilt have warriors for bed-maidens, not a crab that scuttles, an air-breather, a cyst in our marinity...."
Triton, he of the sea-green flesh, stepped forward, and holding aloft the brazen sword, shouted in Edward's brain.
"Hear me, sire, I will take our young prince's place. I will service the land-man, I will be his sleep-sex. I will gratify his every lewd and licentious whim. I will give and take all I hast. Release Namor: 'tis within your power, mighty liege, to revoke precedent!"
"No, no, I will not this allow," cried the princely Namor, "You are Poseidon's, you cannot give, after he most holy has shared the royal intimacy! It would be blasphemy! You, Triton, who hast received the sacred scepter, worshipped in the holy sepulcher, Bent, taken obeisance. Only you of the green, have been hallowed so. But I, have sworn a sacred oath, this fair landling, is to be mine, we will share the silky semen that I will produce, and I will lay them as milk-white strands to decorate him, and his seminal embrace I will take within.
And he stood betwixt Edward and Triton, his arms outflung.
"Gentlemen, most regal ones," said Edward, filling his own mind with his spoken thoughts. "I release Namor from any vow, and Triton need not offer himself as surrogate. 'Tis true that both are most pleasant, most tempting, but I alas am not worthy. Pray unsuture me, here in the depths, and let me continue with my original intention..."
A silence in Edward's skull, now emptied of speech, as the three, stood almost transfixed with quietude.
"He is most honorable," spoke the All-Father. "He, I have misjudged. All landthings are not dishonorable. But sir, you will not die. We will banquet, and latterly we will return you, to the earthy place from whence ye came."
They lay before Edward a sumptuous feast of sea-flora, in all its multitudinous incarnations. Each morsel tasted, salted, and succulent. And As Mr Swan quaffed the sea-liquor from a encrusted jewelled goblet, Namor at his waist, Triton standing behind, massaging Edward's neck, and off, on majestical throne, Poseidon, beaming graciously at his favored guest.
"Bring on the dancing boys..." he commanded, and swimming forth came five lustrous lads, and performed a synchronous swimming montage before the assembled throng.
"Choose one of these youths, dear friend," commanded Neptune."One wilt be companion, a bed-meet, a loyal catamite, every lusty wish, all penetrations graciously accepted, from the rear, underneath, wherever and whenever you wish the love-act. He will of course, be transduced, an airbreather he will become, until he die, when his body will return to the sea, on the day of your death."
And as his hand waved, each mere-youth swam close before Edward, so he could admire their graceful supple, pliant bodies, and would choose one of them, to be landlocked above with Edward, a gift from Poseidon, an honor to be chosen, each using all their charms to entice the demure Mr Swan. Their flesh as smooth as apples, with the everpresent phosphorescent, almost transparent, fish-scales, golden orbed buttocks, cocks like eels, swimming before Edwards, eyes, tentative jabs pushing at his lips, a cajoling as each body, in turn, enveloped around him, each hugging with a wantonness, each wishing to be chosen, for Neptune's sake.
Edward held up his arm. "None of these. They are of the sea. I wilt go back, as I came...alone..."
Namor leaped up and smacked a cruel blow, that cracked across Mr Swan's face with explosive force.
Edward looked up, into the face, of an angel. His cheek, smarted.
"I'm sorry if that hurt. I've tried everything. Kiss of life. I've pumped and pumped your lungs, but you didn't seem to want consciousness."
Edward blinked his eyes, looked again, found him straddled by a husky man, with auburn chest hair, and firm torso, orange swimming trunks, who's bulge rested on Edward's body. The face, a man's, unfamiliar, but handsome, a reddish-pink tinge on pale flesh, a slight male balding amongst the sunflower yellow hair, with a smallish sandy mustache and eyes worried, pleading almost. The scent of health and love of life.
"You nearly drowned... I saw you fall from the boat, and dived in, dragged you back to shore...I thought you were going to die!"
"I almost did..."
He was in his thirties, a little paunch, small love handles, above the orange trunks. He stood up slowly and brought Edward up, as Edward breathed freely.
"Are you o.k? God, you had me worried. Do you live nearby? I can take you home, as long as it's not far, because, well, you're naked..." he seemed embarrassed. "I live not far, I can sneak you in, give you clothes."
"What's your name...?"
"Andrew."
"Thank you, Andrew, I'm most grateful."
Andrew picked up Edward in his strong arms and carried him up the stoneflight of steps that were the stairway to the top.
"Can I stay, at least tonight, with you, Andrew?"
"Well, sure, but I have only the one bed..."
"That's all we need..."
And as they made their way, he heard Andrew sing gently; it didn't sound like a bird after all.