Tag: myth

There comes a time on Halloween night when you don’t want to be out after dark, and the four young men had entered that witching hour without realizing it. Coming home from the gay bar, they were cutting through a back alley on their way to the apartments where they lived, when a lightening bolt thundered through the clear sky overhead, struck the pavement, and a hulking, eight foot man, clad all in leather, stood in front of them.

“I am the Master of the Hunt” the man said, “And I need a pack.”

Before any of the young men could do anything about it, three collars attached to leads shot out from his hands and wrapped their away around the throats of three of them, the men struggling with them even as they began changing, their clothes disappearing, fur sprouting over their bodies. They remained human, but the collars grew up over their head into leather dog muzzles, and they all crawled over the their new master, and growled at the one man left standing.

“What…what about me?” the man whimpered.

“You? Why you are the prey,” the Hunter said, and cackled. The man turned and scrambled away, the baying and howling of the pack nipping at his heels, and he prayed that he might survive the night.

Alarmachus, a son of Zeus and a mortal whom Hera, in a fit of jealousy, ripped from the woman’s womb before she could bear him, was cast into the wilderness, misshapen and weak, but he lived, and burned with anger at the gods who had left him so hideous and deformed, however, he discovered that he did have one talent given to him by the gods.

He happened upon a young, beautiful lad one morning, who had wandered deep into his woods, and Alarmachus was so overcome with lust for the body he could never have, that he took the boy’s virginity, and as he climaxed, Alarmachus stole the young man’s youth and beauty, taking it as his own, but it was not enough—he would need more. Men began disappearing from the villages, only to reappear and decrepit and aged men, until Torious arrived to slay the monster in the woods. 

He lured Alarmachus to him with his own youthful form, but before the man could pounce and rape him, he struck him with a fang from the hair of Medusa, and he was turned to stone. It is rumored that his statue is still there, deep in the woods, and that the touch of beautiful, virgin man might awaken him—but woe to the man who does, for Alarmachus will undoubtedly have his way with him when he is free.