I Dated a Death Goddess!

The following is a work of fiction, but only because one character has been altered from his points of inspiration so as to seem original, and that the alterations vary in their greatness, in order to protect, disassociate, or differentiate him from his precursors. The setting and the circumstances surrounding it may be scary, but that does not mean they are not entertaining.

This story contains consensual sexual intercourse between a male and multiple females, as well as intercourse between females, both intersex and cisgender. All characters participating in such matters are of legal age. As multiple characters are in the public domain, I may use them freely for any purpose I choose. Apologies in advance if my translation of foreign languages isn't good.

For Literotica's HALLOWEEN 2026 contest.

-----

Meet her outside Grimsby's Bar and Grill, they said. It's a nice night, they said. Warm. She's a nice girl--maybe a little bit older than you, but so what? Age is just a number, right, and it's not like you've been swimming in prospects lately. You'll have fun, they said.

Well, it was cold, and raining, and Paxton Calloway had been waiting for his blind date for the better part of...

He checked his cell phone. Seventeen minu--no, wait, eighteen. Eighteen minutes.

He would have chalked this up to a prank, but his parents weren't the type who'd do that to their one-and-only child. Heh, child. Right. Twenty-two going on twenty-three didn't feel very childish, but then again, Paxton had also never been on a date before. Not even a playdate. Not even a group date. The last time a girl his age had even spoken to him--at least when it wasn't part of her job--was someone excusing herself as she passed him in the frozen food aisle. The last one who had held a conversation with him was...

He couldn't even remember. And the last time a girl had held his hand was during a group prayer, back when he still went to church.

He checked his phone again. Nineteen minutes. Too bad he had no way of getting in touch with this girl--well, woman, really, if she was supposed to be older than him. Her name was Helena, the single sister or aunt or friend of someone his parents knew. At this point, though, Paxton didn't really care. He was near lonely enough for anyone.

At least Grimsby's had an awning he could wait under. But it was absolutely not a nice, warm night.

Several women did approach the restaurant, most of them in groups or with their families. Paxton's hopes flared every time a lone woman walked by, and were extinguished when she passed. Helena knew he would be there, his parents had assured them. She'd know where he was, and what time she should be there... right? Oh, of course: they must have given her bad directions. Or the wrong day, or the wrong time. Heh. With his luck, it was a combination of all of them. He could very well be standing there under the awning, in the cold, until the next morning--and that's if she even bothered to show up, or remember.

Yeah, that was probably the case. She would forget and go on with her life. Or have something better to do than humor him for an evening.

Paxton was just about to call his parents when he noticed a woman walking alone down the sidewalk. Unlike everyone else, she didn't have a jacket or poncho, nor even an umbrella, and she didn't seem to be in any hurry whatsoever. She wore a nice dress and walked as though she were at the park on a clear afternoon. The rain didn't seem to bother her in the slightest. Paxton studied her as she drew near, and continued studying as she approached one of the outdoor tables, turned her back to the restaurant, and looked back at him. He could only see half her face but she was striking: fair, dark-haired, with hypnotizing blue eyes, a strong regal jaw, flushed cheeks, and a somewhat flat nose. Her dress was dark bluish-purple and it seemed to reflect every raindrop that fell.

Wow, he thought to himself as she smiled at him. She's gorgeous!

She didn't stand underneath the awning like he did, though. She was out in the rain.

"Helena?" he attempted. The woman grinned. She then said something in a language he didn't understand, interspersed with "CALLOWAY". He stammered and approached. "Um, yes, that's me. Hi, I'm Cal--err, Paxton, but, uh... most people call me Pax. Hi."

"Hello," she said, motionless and mysterious. "Sorry. English isn't my first language."

"Oh." She sounded... German? Swedish? Maybe Dutch? It was difficult to pin down. "Don't worry, most Americans don't speak English very well, either. Hi."

"Hello," she repeated. Paxton studied her more closely. It could have just been a trick of the restaurant's glowing neon lights, but Helena didn't look like she had just been walking in the rain. In fact, despite currently standing in the downpour, she looked completely dry. He extended his hand, and she took it gracefully in her fingers.

"Do you wanna go inside?"

"No, I like it out here." She looked down at the table she had been standing at and sat down before Paxton could stop her.

"Uh, you sure? It's, uh... sort of wet out here, don't you think?"

"Oh?" Helena looked around, as if she hadn't noticed, then looked back at him, raising her eyebrows. Paxton laughed nervously.

"Yeah, I... don't think they'll bring any food out here for us."

"We don't have to eat. We can just sit here and wait."

He pursed his lips. "Wait?"

"For my friends. They're going to pick me up soon. We're going out."

Paxton took a moment to try and process all this.

"You... WERE sent here by my parents to go on a blind date with me, right?"

"Only if you're Paxton Calloway waiting in front of Grimsby's Bar and Grill at 6:20 in the evening on September 21st."

Ah, that explained it. His parents had given her a different meeting time. He mentally berated them before drawing breath.

"But you're also going out with... friends?"

"Yes," she smiled. "I have five friends with me. We're going out tonight."

He needed another moment to process.

"So was this going to be... after our date?"

"You can come along," she said, smiling. "In fact, you should come along. If you want."

"Oh. So I'm... included in this, uh, soiree?"

Helena grinned.

"They won't be here for awhile, though. Still out collecting everybody. Sit down, make yourself comfortable." She gestured to the other chair, which was presently soaked through. Paxton hesitated; she insisted. He timorously ventured back out in the rain, scooted the chair back, and sat across from her.

Now that he could get a closer look at her, there was no mistaking it: his date was completely sandpaper-dry.

She also had burn scars across the entire right side of her face, and they even extended down her shoulder to her arm. The skin was reddish-purple, stretched, desiccated, hardened, almost sinewy. Helena's right eye was entirely opaque, with only a ghostly pale blue orb for an iris. Her lips were cracked and scorched--half of them, anyway--with half the nose bent and mangled, and half her stringy hair looked more like sagebrush. The visual dichotomy was alarming, almost frightening. Paxton couldn't help but stare.

Still pretty, though, he thought to himself. The scars actually make her prettier. Dang.

"Sorry," he murmured, "I don't know how to compose myself on dates. I've never been on one before."

"It's been a long time for me, too," she replied. "We'll both stumble through it together."

He laughed tepidly. "How do you know my parents?"

"I don't, not really. One of my friends does. Persi, I think. She spends half the year here at home, and half the year abroad. Persi's very well-traveled."

"And how about you?" She laughed humbly.

"I'm sort of a home body, so it's good for me to get out every now and then."

"Oh. Where are you from? Uh, if you don't mind me asking."

Helena blinked, one good eye and one bad eye rolling around as she considered the question--which in itself was odd.

"Norway, but my parents moved around a lot."

"Well, your English is very good. I thought you sounded like you were from that area."

The croak of a raven suddenly drew Helena's attention. She jerked her head and seemed to follow the black bird as it fluttered through the rain.

"Ikke en av hans," she murmured softly. Paxton leaned in close.

"Hmm? What was that?" Helena shook from her distraction and grinned. Her teeth at least were uniformly good.

"Nothing. Some birds just make me nervous, is all. Ah!" She raised her burnt arm and waved it. A black limousine pulled up to the restaurant, one of the doors opening. A woman called out from inside but Paxton couldn't see her.

"Helena!"

"Just a moment!" She smiled at Paxton. "There they are; thanks for waiting. Shall we?" She stood and extended her burnt hand. Paxton stood but despaired at his condition.

"Uh... I'm kind of soaked through."

"It'll be fine," she assured him. He shrugged and took her hand--it was frigidly cold but not unpleasant--and followed her into the limo. There were three other women with their backs to the driver and two facing him. Helena took the empty seat leaving Paxton hunched over, dripping and feeling completely out of place.

"Kripya darwaza band karen," one of the women said. Her skin was completely black, and she wore a necklace of small jeweled skulls.

"She said to close the door, please," Helena translated. Paxton obeyed and remained standing. There was nowhere for him to sit. Droplets of water coagulated on the floor.

"Zitó syngnómi," another woman said. She awkwardly scooted over, giving him just enough room to squat on the seat's edge. Paxton smiled and took it. The woman had an olive complexion and smelled of fresh fruit and flowers. Helena introduced them:

"Paxton, this is Persi; Persi, this is Pax. Next to her are Morrigan and Eri."

A fierce-looking freckled woman with intense green eyes and blazing reddish-orange hair nodded gruffly. Her neighbor, Eri, had creamy bronze skin, black hair draped over her shoulders, and was busily reading a book. She raised her hand without missing a beat then went back to it.

"Next to me," Helena resumed, "are Callie and Palida."

"Hello," said Paxton, trying to smile. "I hope I can remember you all. I'm, uh, Paxton Calloway, but you can call me Pax. Um, if you like."

"Es tan lindo!" Palida squealed. She was deathly pale and had heavy black mascara around her eyes, though the lids were painted blue. She also seemed to have scars over her lips, and reminded Cal of... of...

He couldn't quite place it.

"Encantada de conocerte, senor Calloway!" she exclaimed.

"Hi," he managed, knowing a little Spanish. "Encantado... de conocerte, senora Pali--"

"La Dama Palida," she corrected. She bowed slightly. Paxton's eyes widened.

Wait.

No.

Couldn't be.

La Dama Palida--the Pale Lady?

"At least he speaks something besides that damnable Norman tongue," Morrigan muttered. She glared coolly at Paxton and nodded at Persi. "Where did you say you were acquainted with him again, Perse?" The other woman articulated something before she realized Paxton couldn't understand her. She turned flush and looked away bashfully.

"Oh, dear," Persi sighed, "I had completely forgotten about the language barriers up here. The poor man won't be able to understand most of us, will he? Sorry about that."

"It's fine, Persi," Helena assured her. "He just needs to understand me. He is my date, after all."

"No me importaría compartir," Palida purred. She winked at Paxton, causing him to blush. A peal of thunder suddenly clapped overhead, and the limousine's interior lights flickered off. Lightning roared again and again. During the brief flashes, Paxton saw a skeletal figure smiling back at him. Helena's burned half temporarily appeared rotted. Callie's teeth protruded into great fangs, and the skulls on her necklace lit up and moaned quietly. Smoke issued from Eri, and great black crows manifested and perched on Morrigan's shoulders. Thunder boomed and quaked. The rain continued to fall but became utterly silent. Even the low hum of the limousine was blotted out.

Paxton froze.

"What's wrong?" said Helena, her burnt half oozing and pulsating. She reached into a purse and took out a small glass jar. "Are you carsick? Here's some medicine if you need it." Paxton hesitated. He stared at her, then at the other women. Persi returned his expression sympathetically.

"What did you say your name was again?" he said. She smiled timidly.

"Persephone."

He swallowed. The lights came back on. The rain outside dripped and splattered. The engine grumbled.

La Dama Palida, the Pale Lady, reached out and took his hands, her own fingers bony.

"It's too bad this car only has six seatbelts," Helena said cheerfully. "We wouldn't want to get into an accident."

-----

Morrigan peered at the structure, completely defiant of the rain as it pinpricked her eyes and face. Red and white lights splashed against its exterior as the words CLUB UNDER flickered neon.

"Remind me whose idea it was to come here," she grunted. One of her ravens plucked and chewed at her hair before fluttering away.

"Milki," said Eri, still carrying her book. She dully glanced from the structure to Morrigan. "'Ahsul ealaa khasm huna."

"Ooh, what sort of discount?" Helena chirped.

"Ashtr wahidatan wahsul ealaa althaaniat mjanaan."

"Buy one get one free?" Helena blinked, impressed. "Wow. You've got connections!"

"Does that mean drinks or lapdances?" Morrigan muttered to Persephone. She giggled politely; Palida purred.

"Ambas cosas, espero!" Eri stepped up to the entrance. A bald, bearded, muscular male bouncer greeted them.

"Evening, ladies. Are you a member with--" The man froze as Eri strolled past him.

"'Iinahum maei, Royce. Oh." She turned back around and gestured for Paxton. He hesitated and had to be led up by Helena. He grinned sheepishly; the bouncer looked like he had come straight from his job as a blacksmith. Eri presented him. "Hadha hu Paxton Calloway. Malikna... sadiq?" She looked confused. Helena smiled and took Paxton by the elbow.

"He's my date for tonight, sir."

"Oh." Royce backed down, clearly intimidated, and waved them through. "Enjoy your evening, then. Sir, ladies."

The seven of them strolled inside. Eri quickly found them a large table and sat down first. A man in a nice vest-suit approached them with a black booklet, but Eri dismissed him with a wave and a single word: "Almuetad!"

"So this is where you go when you're up here," Morrigan remarked. There were booths everywhere, some with couples or groups like theirs. There were three separate bars, various patrons talking or dancing on the floor, and music thrumming. Soft pink, blue, purple, golden green lights illuminated the dark, and a deejay's booth crowned the opposite side. Morrigan sat the farthest away from Paxton, who had Helena on one side and Palida on the other. He looked like a salmon struggling upriver only to be targeted by a starving bear.

"So, uh... I take it none of you ladies are, uh... from around here."

"No, none of us are American," Persi replied. "I'm from Greece originally. Eri is Babyl... no, from Persia, I think. Wait--is it Persia or Babylon?"

"They call it 'Iraq' now, dove," Helena reminded her. Persi nodded.

"Ah. It just goes to show how far out of touch I've become. At least the Pyramids and the Parthenon are still standing, though! And Morrigan is from Ireland, Palida from Mexico, Callie from India, and I think Helena may have told you where she was from." Helena nodded; Paxton was still a bit mortified. He glanced over at his date, her burned half illuminating in the soft glow of the club as she smiled sweetly.

"Be honest with me for a moment," he said. "Are you... uh, really... who I think you all are?"

"Who do you think we are, dear?" she said. The waiter returned with a drink for Eri, and the others ordered theirs. Paxton turned pale.

"Uh, do you want me to buy yours, Helena?"

"No, Persi's covering our bill. Feel free to order anything you want." Paxton wasn't much of a drinker but he asked for an Arnold Palmer with rum. Callie called for something called "soma", which the establishment didn't have, nor did they have ambrosia (to Persi's disappointment) or Idun Cider (to Helena's). Morrigan settled for whiskey and beer (demanding "the strongest they had"), Palida had lime tequila, while Eri sighed and just ordered for everyone else.

"Ladaya dhawq rafie, thiq bi," she assured them.

"Oh, what do you know about taste?" Morrigan spat. "You don't even have any taste buds! All food tastes bland and dry to you! And it's the same with Persi!"

"Now that's not true," Persi insisted: "I'll have you know I can still taste fruit, grains, vegetables, olives, wine..."

"Oy, ellas son tan ruidosas," Palida grumbled. She nudged Paxton and smiled at Helena. "¿Qué tal si buscamos un lugar más privado?"

"Good idea," Helena huffed. "I'm no good in social situations anyway." She excused herself and took Paxton and Palida off to another booth. Morrigan cautiously watched them go and kept her eyes on them as they sat down. She was still staring as their drinks were brought over.

"Your friends are..." Paxton struggled to find the right word. It ultimately proved fruitless. Helena managed to understand him, though.

"Yes. They're all home bodies, too, so they act like chickens let out of their coop."

"Morrigan's todavía mirándonos fijamente," Palida observed. Helena peered over; Morrigan could have pierced through iron with her gaze.

"I'm sorry," Paxton said, before realizing his error: "Uh, pido disculpas. No habla Espanol..."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you did!" Palida exclaimed. She giggled, her egg-white cheeks flushing. "Being up here is so confusing, but it's lots of fun too, no?"

"I suppose," he muttered. He looked between the two women. They were both incredibly beautiful, very far out of his league, but... "You're... not really human, are you?"

"Hmm?" Palida said, leaning forward, blinking. "What is a human? Is it you? Is it Persi? Is it our waiter, or our limo driver, or me?"

"I mean you're... well, you know."

"No, I don't. Explain it."

"Stop pestering him, Palida," Helena muttered as she sipped her drink. "He's worked up enough as it is. Frankly I'm just happy he hasn't run off. Most men do, when they see me." She smiled mysteriously and turned her face so her burned side was more prominent. Paxton chuckled feebly.

"Well... they probably can't handle how pretty you are." Helena giggled hoarsely.

"It's good to know you're a smooth talker, at least. And you're not mistaken. I'm a prize." She winked at him; he blushed, stammering. Eventually he settled.

"But you really are Hel, mistress of Niflheim, aren't you? And you're La Santa Muerte, right?"

The pale lady smiled, her mouth skeletal. "Sometimes called La Dueña de los Alebrijes, La Viuda Blanca, La Tiznada, Regina de Somniis Mortuorum... Or Mictecacihuatl if you're old-school."

Paxton nodded quietly.

"So I'm guessing that would make Eri Ereshkigal, and Callie is... Kali."

Silence hung like the shroud of, well...

Paxton tilted back his drank and completely consumed it in one sitting.

"You don't need to be afraid of us," Palida said, touching his hand. "We're not here for you, Pax. We're just here to have fun. Noche de chicas."

"Speak for yourself," Helena muttered playfully: "I actually am here for him. Oh, not like that!" she giggled, noticing his startled expression. "I really am here for our date! I only keep the dead; I'm not responsible for cutting their coils or delivering them."

"That's actually not what's bothering me, if you can believe it," he said shyly. The waiter came by, noticed their drinks were either empty or low, and offered to take another order. They took advantage of the offer (and Persi's generosity) and he dismissed himself discreetly.

"What is it, then?" Helena pressed. Paxton sighed.

"The fact that you all exist in the first place. I just thought you were made-up. You know, mythology."

"We're very real, dove," Helena assured him, "though perhaps not in the sense you think. It's very complicated, I'm afraid. We're more... essophysical in nature."

He nodded. In short, these were tangible objects of abstract concepts or ideas. The real walking, talking, drinking, flirting manifestations of death.

And they were all INCREDIBLY hot.

"I'm surprised he's heard of us," Palida remarked. "I didn't think Americans were familiar with me at all. It must have been that movie, 'The Book of Life'."

Helena grumbled. "Which means he probably only knows about me from those silly Marvel movies. Not that I'm insulted that Cate Blanchett portrayed me. I only wish I hadn't been the villain."

"I'm actually a big mythology nerd," Paxton admitted shyly. "I learned about Greek myth in middle school and it just blossomed from there."

"Ah, a scholar," Helena sang, her interest piqued. "No wonder you're so surprised."

"And there's one other thing," he admitted sheepishly, half-muttering behind his drink. Helena and Palida leaned in close. "I, uh... well, I really can't believe this is happening to me. I mean... I'm not exactly popular with the ladies, so... I'm surprised you actually agreed to go on a date with me." Helena studied him with a sympathetic, and even an empathetic eye. He was certainly cute: tall, fair, but there was more softness on his body than muscle, and his arms were a little skinny. He had glasses, freckles, and reddish-brown hair that couldn't decide whether it was curly or straight, and no amount of combing would convince it either way. He at least knew how to dress, wearing tan khakis and a maroon polo, and in spite of how his clothes still clung to him from the rain, he smelled nice.

Helena laughed gently and folded her hand over his.

"If I'm being honest, Pax, I feel the same way. For somewhat more obvious reasons, of course." She parted the stringy, desiccated side of her hair, fully exposing her burnt face. She smiled shyly at him, blinking in silence. "That," she continued, "and the connotations behind who I am. It's... understandably difficult to find someone who'd be willing t--"

She was interrupted as he boldly leaned in and kissed her burned cheek. They both came back flush.

"I think you're beautiful," he whispered, "and I've always been a fan of yours. I mean, from mythology."

"Aww," Palida cooed. Helena just blushed and tittered, and held his hand a bit tighter.

"And I gotta admit," Paxton grinned, looking over at Palida, "I had a pretty big crush on your character in that movie."

"Oooh," she purred. Her eyes glowed gold as she looked from him to Helena. "Careful, girl: I might try to third-wheel this date of yours."

"Is that so?" she laughed. "Aren't we getting a little greedy? You already have a husband, dear."

"You do?" Paxton blurted. Palida smiled warmly, batting her eyes.

"Si, Mictlāntēcutli: my dearest true love. But we have an open relationship. In fact, he's probably out with some lucky woman right now." She sighed dreamily and stared off into the distance. "I hope he's having fun with her."

Paxton swallowed nervously. "You're really okay with your husband being with another woman?"

"Of course," she said, snapping away from her daydream, "just so long as I know about it. Oh, speaking of which..." Palida spoke something in an ancient language, presumably Aztec, and a multicolored translucent creature resembling a lion with an eagle's head materialized. Palida said something to it and the creature vanished just as quickly as it appeared. She smiled at Helena and Paxton. "Modern technology can't beat an Alebrijes if you want to send a message. I told him to tell my husband I was on a date with a man. Communication is very important in relationships."

"I see," Paxton managed. He looked to Helena for answers, but she just shrugged.

"If Mictlan is okay with it, then I have no objections. Just remember that I saw him first."

"Of course!" Palida chirped. "I'd never leave my friend out of the fun." She scooted closer to Paxton, draping one arm over him as she put her lips to his ear. "Think you have enough energy to dance with both of us, amante?" Paxton blushed but boldly declared that he'd be able to keep up with them. Palida laughed and invited him to prove it. He smiled, stood, and extended his hand.

"May I?" Helena's clear side turned flush as she stood and followed him out. Eri noticed and gave a signal to the deejay; the music turned dark, heavy, fast, and loud. She smiled at Callie (Persi winced and covered her ears) and the two death-goddesses started headbanging.

"Watch it, Callie!" Morrigan snarled. "The last time you went out clubbing, you almost destroyed the entire universe!"

Ignorant of a potential rave-induced apocalypse, Helena and Paxton started swaying on the floor. He still remembered the old ballroom dancing lessons he had taken in high school and accounted for himself remarkably well. He winced as Helena accidentally stepped on his feet.

"Sorry, I don't know what I'm doing."

"Have you never danced before?"

"Not ballroom dancing. Bathory's not exactly conducive to waltzes. It's more... dancing on the corpses of your fallen enemies." Helena smiled sheepishly while Paxton grinned. He winked, kissed her hand, then started thrashing and headbanging along with the music. Helena let herself go and tore up the dance floor; the deejay played songs from Enslaved, Amon Amarth, and Heidevolk before Helena called for a rest. Palida patiently sipped her third tequila as she watched them cool off.

"Still confident you can keep up with me, cariño? I'm a master of bolero, flamenco, paso doble, and can solo Los Voladores de Papantla." [Author's note: a ritual where four dancers spin upside-down from a high wooden pole.] Paxton was still panting, but undaunted. He took a quick drink and stood up.

"Well, never let it be said that I backed down from a challenge." He was briefly stopped as Callie gestured for him to approach. When he was near enough, she grinned and grabbed him by the hem of his shirt, breathing a noxious black fume on his face. Paxton jolted and stumbled back, coughing and sputtering. Persi gawked in horror.

"What did you DO to him?!"

Callie grinned: "Maut ka naach!"

"Oh, this should be fun," Morrigan said as she took another drink. "He'll have Palida eating out of the palm of his hand... if he survives." Paxton managed to stagger his way back to the dance floor, Palida sighing as she watched Callie laugh. Eri gestured to the deejay, and a fiery flamenco erupted, blasting so hard that Palida's dress shivered. Paxton trembled, jerked, and grabbed her hand before she knew what was happening. His eyes lit up with a hellish glow, his face snarling with wanton lust. He was Michael Flatley, Mikhail Baryshnikov, Fred Astaire--except their feet never literally set the dance floor on fire, nor had they ever caused the ground to shake, or the air to fill with intoxicating pheromones that drove everyone else mad. To be fair, they had also never danced Santa Muerte herself into exhaustion.

"Damn it, I had a feeling something like this would happen," Morrigan grumbled. She peered around, seeing flames, bodies, haze, lights, booze, madness, lust: the telltale signs that Callie had worked some wondrous mischief. Saving lives was a bit outside of her field of expertise but she could at least break open a water pipe, conjure up a little rain, and douse the flames before they did any serious damage. The other dancers would be sore, soaked, and sizzled the next morning, and Eri would have to smooth things over with the owner, but everything would be, relatively speaking, fine.

Paxton was another matter. He was frantically moving around as if possessed by lightning, babbling incoherently, clutching his head in terror and laughing and jumping about and dancing and trying his very hardest not to explode. Helena took hold of him gently.

"I think you've had enough, dear."

"Yeah yeah I think so hey listen do you feel like climbing this building suddenly I feel like I could do that also I can outrun the wind right now and smell colors does anyone want to pretend the floor is lava and jump on these tables why can't I stop talking and moving around what the heck's happening to me gosh I could dance for another eighty-seven hours what do you say Palida huh maybe I just need a drink is there any water--"

"Oh dear," Helena murmured fretfully. She looked to her companions for answers. Morrigan sighed.

"Callie gave him the 'Dance of Death'. Do you want the short explanation or the detailed one?"

"The short, if you don't mind."

"He's filled with godly stamina right now and if we don't exhaust it soon, he'll die. As in, we'll need to scrape his intestines off the ceiling."

Helena glared hotly at Callie, who just shrugged.

"Mujhe laga ki tumhe ek dance partner chahiye."

"Yes! I WANTED a dance partner, not a bomb! How do we get rid of it, Morrigan?"

"Do you want the fast way or--"

"JUST TELL ME!!"

Morrigan took a calming breath. "Sexual release would be the easiest way."

Helena stared at her blankly.

"You're joking."

She raised her right hand. "Swear to the entire Tuatha de Danaan. Any other method would take too long."

Helena sighed. "Then we should find a hotel. Callie, you're paying."

"Mere paas paise nahin han," she insisted.

"What do you mean, 'no money'?!"

"Relax, chica, I'll handle this," Palida sighed. "If you're going to have sex with him, I want in. Trato?" She smiled casually, and Helena quickly agreed.

"All right. I owe you one. Pax, come with us, honey, we're going t--"

Morrigan snickered at the unintentional entendre. "Heheh. 'Come'."

Helena rolled her eyes. Eri stayed behind to smooth things out, and she enlisted Callie to help her. Persi called a cab and volunteered to stay behind, leaving Helena to help Paxton outside. The poor man was wildly voluble, trembling uncontrollably, frothing at the mouth, and unable to keep still.

"Sorry sorry I can't control myself this is all happening very quickly heheh I never expected my first date to go like this but are we seriously having sex I mean this is a bit sudden don't you thi--"

"It's either that, or you discover which afterlife you're going to," Morrigan stated. That helped to silence him.

-----

Paxton managed to keep himself more or less intact as the taxi took them to a hotel. Palida checked them all in and led them to their room. It was fairly spartan, just large enough to comfortably hold five, with only a single, large bed. Helena sat down with Paxton on the bed, holding his hand as he shook.

"Wait," he implored her, "wait wait, hold on a second." He looked at Helena timidly. "Helena, I... uh, I mean, I know you're doing this to save my life, and I'm grateful--and I want it, trust me I do--but if I weren't about to violently rupture, would you still, uh..."

She smiled sweetly, caressing his hand.

"Not on our first date, no. I'd like to get to know you better. But if everything went well, yes. I'm quite attracted to you." He blushed and smiled bashfully, looking into her eyes. He couldn't resist anymore, Death Dance or no, and kissed her cheeks, then her nose, then her eyes. Helena was flush and grinned sheepishly. They held hands and looked into--

"Come on, get on with it," Palida huffed. "I'm really horny now."

Helena and Paxton laughed; the latter then leaned in, leering.

"So am I." He kissed her properly; she tasted half-sweet and half-bitter, but not unpleasant in any capacity, like parsley with a touch of honey. He went in again, and again--and again--caressing her face, moaning, inhaling sharply, intoxicated. He went to her neck, both sides, causing her to hiss, then her shoulders. She was wearing a dress but the straps didn't stand much of a chance. He bit her very gently and she squealed, kissing down her arms until he got to her fingers, one hand casually playing with her zipper. When he pulled it all the way down she withdrew.

"Wait." She was breathing shallow, flushed, needy, anxious. Her lips curled as she gazed at him wantonly. "Take your shirt off." Paxton hesitated before digging underneath.

"I gotta warn you," he grumbled, "it's not all that impressive."

Helena just smiled impatiently. He pulled it off and tossed it aside. He was a bit curvy, with soft hair on his arms, and soft, not skinny but not fat or muscular. Helena stared; Palida cooed; Morrigan just shrugged.

"I've seen worse."

"I like his body," Palida added. She leaned into his back, embracing. "I could cuddle with him all day."

"Well you'll just have to wait," Helena chuckled, dismissing Palida as she put her arms around him: "He's MY date, remember?" She kissed him again, running her hands over his chest. Her touch was warm, soft, womanly; her touch was icy, rough, distant. She was unlike any woman who had ever walked the earth and Paxton wanted more, more. He kissed her neck and lowered her dress, exposing a body half pink and alluring, half burnt and hardened. One of her breasts was slightly gnarled and crooked; Paxton kissed and fondled it first, finding his date very sensitive. He pulled the dress down all the way and was riveted by silken blackish-purple panties. Before he could do anything he felt firm hands grasping his backside.

"These pants of yours need to go," Palida said, and Paxton agreed. His legs were strong but a little hairy, though none of the women seemed to mind. Morrigan even whistled.

"Green underalls? Not bad."

"Mmm, and the rest," Palida purred. Paxton stiffened but Helena encouraged him with a sultry stare. He looked into her eyes, one blue and one glassy.

"Well, you heard her," he said, kissing down from Helena's forehead to her nose, her lips, her throat and chest, straight down the line separating life and death, pausing only briefly to clamp his teeth on the hem of her underwear. He yanked down; she squealed; he then looked her in the eye again, wordlessly parting her legs. Helena's treasured center was half-covered in silky black hair and half-shaved. Paxton hesitated. Up to now he had never even kissed a woman, and now he was...

He began tentatively kissing it. It fragrance was, as expected, only half-sweet, but the other half had its own charms. There was a fragrance of woodland mushrooms, a tang of rotting leaves in autumn, the aroma of soft earth after the rain. Her taste was just as bittersweet and Paxton nearly passed out for greed of it. Helena's moans and shudders encouraged him; he put his tongue inside her, half-drenched with lust, drinking, lapping, kissing, grazing with his teeth...

The goddess of the Norse underworld climaxed much sooner than even she expected. Her face was covered in sweat and glowing as he withdrew. Paxton smiled, still a little bashful. Meanwhile Palida cleared her throat, impatiently indicating his boxers. Paxton smiled helplessly and shimmied out of them.

"It's, uh... not exactly big, I know..."

"What, your arse?" Morrigan pointed. He blushed and grinned. Palida cooed as she stared at his penis, not only fully erect (and pointing exactly where it wanted to be) but quivering, pulsating, wanting. She would have to wait, though, as Paxton really, really, REALLY wanted to be with his date, the woman who had started all this, the one he had been attracted to in spite of her appearance--or perhaps BECAUSE of--

"Uno momento," Palida interrupted. She forcefully drew him in for a kiss, tasting of cilantro, tomatoes, hot cornmeal, mangos, ash. Helena merely chuckled patiently, even when Palida's ghostly white hand reached for Paxton's privates. She withdrew and stared at him with equal parts unconditional love and wild lust, a glance he only held for a moment before focusing back on Helena.

"Um, this is my first time," he mentioned, "and I didn't expect tonight to go like this at all, so, uh... I don't have any condoms or anything like that."

"Oh, don't be silly!" Palida laughed. "You won't need those, at least not with us. None of us could get pregnant even if we wanted to!"

"Children don't do so well in the Underworld," Helena gently reminded him. Paxton relaxed but was still concerned about communicable diseases. Morrigan just scoffed.

"Relax, you won't catch anything from us. Fornicate away to your heart's content--unless, ya know, you'd rather splatter against the wall."

"Hush, dear," Helena snapped. She urged Paxton to continue, adding that this would be her first time as well, so he ought to be gentle. Feeling a bit pressured, he kissed her and went in a bit slower than he should have, less like a knife through butter than a drill through ice. Helena was boiling and moist but also surprisingly cold, two sensations that coexisted and competed for tactile attention. Paxton buried himself in very slowly, encouraged by her smile, her words of assurance, and (most important) her little sighs of pleasure. He grunted a little as he dug all the way in, but the sensations of being inside a woman, a rather beautiful woman, a woman whose company he was enjoying, an honest-to-goodness goddess, this being his (and her) first time, his inexperience, and perhaps a little bit of the Death Dance surging through his body, but he only lasted about ten or so thrusts before he burst, firing semen heedlessly, flooding a channel that had never known man, mortal or otherwise.

Helena still squealed, remarking about the sudden introduction of oozing heat inside of her, and laughed softly as Paxton caught his breath.

"Sorry," he grumbled helplessly, "I couldn't help it. That felt way too good."

"Oh, darling, it's all right," she sang, and Helena actually meant it. She kissed his face and smiled warmly. "It was a lovely first time. Oh!" She chanced to look down, blushed, and looked back at him. "Looks like you get to try again."

Paxton let out a cry as he noticed that he was still fully erect. THAT had certainly never happened before.

"That's the effect of the Death Dance for ya," Morrigan commented. "Like I said, godly stamina. One or two ejaculations aren't gonna cut it." Paxton turned pale for a moment, but then realized that maybe this wasn't such a bad thing after all. The way he saw it, this deadly curse of his would wear off if he had sex enough times, and with Helena, well...

And even then, Palida was waiting patiently on the side, practically thrumming with anticipation.

And surely Morrigan wasn't there just to facilitate! Perhaps she could...

But first things first. Paxton kissed Helena deeply, stared into her eyes, and smiled.

"Yeah, looks that way." He winked, grinning, kissed her again--and plunged into her. Helena was nice and lubricated from his last attempt, and had loosened considerably, so any faint semblance of discomfort was abandoned. His fullness sank in again, testicles gently tapping her skin. He kissed her, again and again, everywhere, enraptured by her contrasting flavor, the bitter and the sweet. He thrust, thrust, thrust, gaining confidence. Helena squealed, moaned, sighed; the bed squeaked and shook; Palida and even Morrigan were breathing heavily, the former playing with herself through her dress. It was all she could do to not rip her clothes off and jump in.

Helena suddenly whispered Paxton's name, wrapping one soft leg and one burned leg around his waist, begging him not to stop, please, oh Pax, I'm so close, Ymir and Auðumbla of the cosmos that feels wonderfahh... fuuuh... uuuuuhhhh--!

Her first orgasm of the evening had been a sweet wave of pleasure. This second one was like someone ramming a chisel into her.

Her arms and legs constricted around him as she rode the fiery jolting sweetness, piercing fire and lightning that began at her most sensitive areas and spread everywhere like a torrential gale long kept shut tight. And Paxton was STILL GOING! His thrusts were dulled by her desperate embrace but he continued plunging, penetrating, pounding, adding a few grunts of primeval conquest as he ravished and worshipped his goddess.

He grit his teeth, sensing another orgasm building. Helena was moaning loudly; the bed's headboard was making indentations on the wall; Palida's breathing was becoming heavier. Paxton growled and thrust as deeply as he could, grinding against Helena's throbbing clitoris as another jet of molten semen spewed out of him, punching her vaginal walls and drenching her until she was overflowing. Gradually, the strength in her limbs faded, she released him, and he removed himself from her. A trail of silvery-white fluid followed him as he sat up--

Still very erect--

And he beheld the beauty laying breathless before him. They smiled and he reached out to kiss her hand.

"Was that lovely, too?"

She issued a throaty laugh. "Yes. But I'll never forget that first time."

He went in to kiss Helena again but she gestured to Palida, who had been incredibly patient throughout all this. Paxton smiled apologetically as he turned to focus on her. Without saying a single word, she issued a sultry golden-black stare and dismissed her dress with a gesture, standing naked and, well, pale. They put arms around each other and kissed, long and slow and passionate--

"Dagda, is this going to take forever, too?" Morgana grumbled. She huffed and crossed her arms. Paxton and Palida just laughed.

"Wait your turn, you old crow," Helena teased her. Morrigan watched as Paxton kissed down Palida's soft body, putting her breasts in his mouth, running his tongue over her perfectly-shorn labia.

"To Dubnos with that!" She practically tore her top off, flinging furs and leather and satin, doing away with everything save for her glare. Paxton's mouth was busy with Palida (the pale lady in mid-moan) when he chanced to look over and saw, of all things, a thick long penis jutting out of Morrigan's pelvis, wreathed in unkempt orange hair, as if it were an effigy about to be torched.

Huh. That was new. Then again, these WERE goddesses. Morrigan noticed his bewilderment, as well as the bewilderment of her companions, and sighed.

"I owed Macha a favor, all right? It'll go away once I have forty-nine orgasms. One of those 'seven times seven' curses, or blessings, however you look at it. Even after three days and three nights of copulating with her, I'm only down to thirty-two, so it'll be awhile."

Helena and Palida stared in awe.

"Oh," they both said. Morrigan grunted, aiming her phallus at the trio.

"All right, here's the deal," she announced: "either I get volunteers or I choose someone at random. Give me a hole or I pick one for you."

"You kissed Macha with that mouth?" Palida grumbled. Morrigan glared at her.

"That counts as volunteering. Pax has the front hole so give me the back or the top."

"And who says romance is dead?" Helena muttered. Palida sighed, honestly too horny to care. She lifted one leg and hoisted herself onto Paxton, so moist and needy that there was no resistance whatsoever. She groaned, embracing him; he groaned, embracing her; Morrigan went in from behind, putting her hands on soft white shoulders.

"No objections, I hope?"

Palida moaned as Paxton began thrusting. Sounded like she was ready to go. Morrigan thrust into her; she stiffened, squeaking. Morrigan slid through all the way; Palida hissed sharply. They all stood there waiting.

"You good?" Paxton said. Palida nodded stiffly.

"It's been a very... VERY long time since... unnff... I've had two in me at once. At least two human-shaped ones."

Everyone froze, wide-eyed. Morrigan whistled.

"Kinky. Okay, Santa Muerte, just say 'Danaan' and I'll stop." Palida nodded and they both slowly withdrew, then went in again. Palida grunted sharply, squeezing Paxton tight, and they both slid into her again. Out, in; out, in. Morrigan added a bit of force to her thrust and clamped onto Palida's cotton-soft backside, grinning fiercely. Paxton shuddered as he felt something rub up against his testicles. Morrigan snarled.

"Heh, our balls are touching."

He groaned wordlessly and held on. Morrigan withdrew, slammed; slid out, forced in. Paxton remained motionless.

"Querida, you have to move," Palida whispered to him. "I... really want to feel you, t--"

He thrust in just as Morrigan slid out. Palida sang like Umm Kulthum [Author's note: Seriously, look her up.].

They both froze. "Do that again," Morrigan said. Paxton slid out, she pushed her way in.

Arias.

"Dubnos yeah," Morrigan hissed, snarling as she attuned herself to the rhythm. Whenever Paxton pierced through Palida's silky-smooth labia, Morrigan shlepped her way out; when she burrowed into her sphincter, he pulled out. They sawed her like a log in this manner, one always going in and the other always going out. Helena sat enraptured, one hand caressing her breast while the other played delicately with her clitoris, breathing heavily as Santa Muerte groaned and moaned. Her teeth dug into Paxton's shoulder and her fingers raked against his back as a furious orgasm pummeled her without mercy. The pain suddenly pushed Paxton over the edge and he fired into her, saturating Death herself with his seed, again and again, flooding her until it dripped out. Morrigan licked her lips and unleashed her own load, practically giving La Dama Palida an enema as her womanly spunk flooded her back channel.

Palida was so weak from the experience that her body turned gelatinous and practically melted onto the floor. She laid there splayed, covered with sweat, gasping, eyes hazy, everything below the waist drenched in seminal fluid. Paxton and Morrigan still stood, wheezing, taking a moment to cool down and look at each other. He was still hard, somehow, while she...

"And that makes thirty-one. Hey, care to make it an even thirty?" Her penis swaggered at him menacingly; Paxton couldn't take his eyes away from it. He had not been immune to homosexual fantasies but just like dating women, they had remained fantasies. Now, though...

Curiosity and desire won over any apprehension he may have had.

"Yeah, sure," he said softly, and knelt down. Morrigan's mouth curled, a predator cornering its prey, a Queen fit to be served, a goddess eager to be worshipped. Her masculine/feminine fragrance coagulated with Palida's, filling the air with odors of cinnamon, clove, mistletoe, holly, evergreen, but also the arid oppression of sand and rock, the perfume of flowers and fruit, of clay and kiln and husky maize--

And of death.

Paxton tentatively kissed it and Morrigan shuddered. He kissed down the shaft, slowly. He looked up, winking, kissing one of her testicles. Morrigan almost turned into a puddle.

"You like my girl-cock, boy?" she grunted. He laughed timidly.

"Yeah. She's really cute." Morrigan stiffened and was about to reprimand him but then felt glorious moist warmth enveloping her, and groaned so loud that it woke Palida from her stupor. Her hands immediately went to Paxton's hair and she grasped it firmly as he sank further and further in.

By the Tuatha, what a mouth!

Paxton was perfectly content to suck on it all night, but that clearly wasn't going to happen. Morrigan let out a barbaric roar and flooded his mouth with womanly spunk, shooting load after load after load, drenching his teeth, assaulting his uvula, painting his tongue white. Paxton's eyes flared and he began swallowing instinctively; she tasted vaguely of plum pudding and tepid tea. He continued to half gulp, half slurp as she unloaded in his mouth, until globules leaked out of his lips and trickled down his chin. Sufficiently drained, she backed off a bit, leaning against the doorway for support.

"Fucking dirty bloody DUBNOS, boy, where in the name of the Firbolg did you get a mouth like that?!"

Paxton coughed softly. He wiped his mouth with his wrist.

"I was really that good?"

Morrigan sighed, rubbing her face. "Rhiannon herself couldn't compare. My only problem is that I don't know if that counts as one orgasm or FIVE!"

"You can't have five orgasms simultaneously, dove," Helena noted. Morrigan scoffed.

"Says who? Bloody fuck!" She took a breather and stared at Paxton with renewed awe and respect. She was aching to have her way with him, one way or another, to dominate as a goddess ought to. Then again, there was something perversely appealing about letting a mortal take control, to ravish and do what he pleased with her body.

It didn't matter, Paxton was already sitting next to Helena, holding and kissing her hand, caressing her hair, studying as one would study a painting. She kissed him deeply and gently laid him on the bed, fitting herself onto his stiff penis once again. It wasn't fair, Morrigan thought, watching the Mistress of Niflheim pleasure herself. Helena was ready to go after, what, two or three wondrous orgasms? And even after sampling two other women, goddesses in their own right, Paxton was STILL only focusing on HER? It was sweet, in a way, and Morrigan was happy for her, really she was, but...

Palida cooed, climbed to her feet, and watched Helena bounce for a moment before deciding enough was enough. She climbed on the bed and excused herself as she planted her labia on Paxton's face, her sumptuous pale peachy rear waving majestically before his eyes. His hands took hold of Helena's backside as his tongue buried itself inside Santa Muerte, and suddenly the singular moans and cries of pleasure became a duet.

That was all Morrigan could stand. She gathered herself up and approached the bed, laying down next to Paxton.

"Lift your arse up a moment, I'm coming in!" She helped raise him, so strong that she could heave the man and both his lovers one-handed, and positioned herself underneath him. He sat directly on her womanly phallus and let out a loud muffled groan as he took her cock fully. Morrigan grinned and kissed his neck, then kissed Palida's rear, before finding a welcome place to snake her tongue onto. Palida let out a sharp cry and tilted her head back, surrendering herself completely. Helena sighed, groaning, her clitoris dancing with pleasure as an early orgasm struck her. She reached out and put her mouth on Palida's nipples, sucking and biting gently. Palida squealed and held Helena close, her own hands going for the other woman's breasts. An orgasm jolted its way through her body and she pulled Helena close, kissing her deeply as they shared in their bliss.

"Válgame Dios, it's been too long since I've been with another woman!" She kissed Helena again and again, Paxton's tongue swirling in her pussy as Morrigan's tongue danced in her sphincter. Helena jolted as an orgasm pummeled her; Paxton fired into her again, his groans gurgling as Palida's fluids flooded him. Morrigan snarled as she continued to thrust into him.

"By all the Tuatha, you've got an amazing arse, lad! Dagda, it's enough to ruin me for women! Mmm, you like having my cock inside you, don't you buh... buuuhhh-uuhhh-uhhhh..." Her muscles tensed as Paxton bounced on her, enforced with Helena's weight pounding on him. Morrigan almost passed out from pleasure as she grit her teeth and fully released herself inside him, spewing womanly fluid again and again, feeling her testicles drain dry. Paxton shuddered as her semen washed through him and he violently ejaculated, soaking Helena so thoroughly that it gushed out of her, covering his torso and much of the bed. Helena's moans filtered into Palida's mouth as they doused Paxton with their spend, and together the four of them collapsed, utterly spent.

Except for their heavy breathing, they were all silent for a long time.

"That," Morrigan finally managed, "has to be... twenty-five... at least. Lugh, I hope not. I could go for... another... seventy more of those."

She finally passed out. Palida was already out cold, cuddling close to Paxton. Helena had just enough strength left to smile at him and kiss his eyes. He rubbed his nose against hers and gave her a little peck before the veil of darkness enshrouded him.

-----

Morning found the most beautiful woman Paxton had ever laid eyes on sleeping soundly next to him. He could only see her burnt half and smiled warmly, dearly, kissing it gently. His other hand found its way to Palida's soft pale posterior, and a bit of exploration revealed that Morrigan was spooning her, snoring and grumbling. Even then, he was only interested in the half-burnt Mistress of Niflheim, who smiled back at him as she fluttered to life. They slowly kissed one another and everything else was forgotten.

That last session had evidently been enough to calm his curse, for his penis was finally flaccid, and likely to not stir to life again anytime soon (though seeing Helena's nude form was nearly enough to do it). They showered separately--or tried to, as Palida joined them, eventually followed by Morrigan. Helena and Palida teamed up to wash Paxton's privates, squirting soap on their breasts and rubbing his penis between them. He groaned as their nipples slid over his head, and shot his umpteenth load as their tongues danced and twirled over his urethra. Morrigan quietly kissed his neck and shoulders from behind, and turned him around so she could wash his teeth clean with her tongue. Paxton squeaked in her mouth as he felt Palida's tongue slither into him from behind; Helena stood, laughing softly, and kissed him and Morrigan before the Celtic death-goddess knelt down and put his penis into her mouth. Helena drank his moans as he had another orgasm, and they all kissed and cuddled in wet soapy bliss for a good while.

"Scyte, hold on, I gotta pee," Morrigan grumbled. She released herself right there in the shower.

"Bruta," Palida grumbled. Paxton winced.

"Actually, uh..." He then smiled sheepishly and peed alongside Morrigan. The redhead grinned and gave him a hearty jab with her elbow.

"Asquerosa," Palida sneered. Helena giggled and leaned back a bit.

"Well, when in Finland..." She sighed and released herself. That was it for Palida; she stormed out of the shower, cursing all three of them. They just laughed.

They had breakfast together and said their goodbyes. Morrigan pricked herself with a knife and made Paxton drink the blood, telling him that if he ever wanted to "have fun" with her again, to just find a crow or raven and speak to it, and she would come. Palida was a bit more graceful, taking one of her hairs and wrapping it around his throat, like a necklace. He could now summon an alibrije of his own, which would promptly bring her to his side--providing she wasn't busy doing something, or someone, else.

Helena just sighed and gave him a ten-digit number to call.

"You all seriously need to get with the times. Cellular phones aren't as complicated as you think."

"Ugh," Morrigan sneered. "I'd rather be sober than use one of those."

"Same here," Palida concurred, "but you do you." Hugs and kisses passed all around, and the three women left for their underworlds.

Paxton took a day for himself to process everything that had happened.

He called Helena the next morning, asking if she'd like to go on a date. Of course, she agreed.

They went to a nearby beach, fully clothed, walking hand-in-hand. It began to storm an hour in, but they didn't care: they just laid down on a blanket and stared up at the dreary sky as the rain poured down, inexpressibly happy.

-----

fini

-----

Author's note: Hel is from Norse mythology, Nuestra Señora de la Santa Muerte is from Mexican folklore, Morrigan is from Celtic mythology, Ereshkigal is from Sumerian/Mesopotamian mythology, Kali is from Indian mythology, and Persephone is from Greek mythology.

If you're wondering where Izanami (Japan) is, she's with Palida's husband. Are there any I missed?