It's story time.  Diana is in a pitched slugfest with a young adolescent male who's the pawn of Diana's nemesis and I mean four of the deadliest enemies.  Will she kneel and succumb  to his the Earth shattering fists of the elemental berserker call Geode or will the Lasso of Truth light their way?

 

Diana Prince smashes through the brick wall, seeing you, one of her many arch enemies. Though she never thought of you as a threat. She laughs running the little distance between you and her. As you grapple with her, she realizes her strength is gone. You begin to overpower her. Taking her golden lasso, you pull her hands behind her back tying her up. Shocked by your strength or lack thereof, she struggled to no avail. “What did you do to me? Let me go.”  Obeying her, the earth elemental picks up Diana Prince with ease and lifts her above his head.  The Geo-Berserker flings her across the room only to see her flip into a summersault and in the process freeing herself from her golden lasso.  Diana gets up and realizes she is not only fighting an element but an Amazon as well.  In fact, on a level of intuition, she is fighting her male counterpart.  She senses the presence of the arcane enchantments of Ares, Hades, and Pan in this situation.  Naked and fully endowed with twelve inch cock, he snarls at Diana but scans her uniform.  Something about it stirs a memory.....

 

She staggers back to her feet, wincing as my wrists strain against the golden lasso binding them behind my back. Her breath comes unevenly, eyes widening as she takes in your form—muscular, towering, radiating an aura of ancient power. The scent of ozone and damp earth clings to the air, making her skin prickle. "You're no ordinary foe. She recognizes the divine energy swirling around him, Ares' bloodlust, Hades' shadows, Pan's wild hunger." Her pulse quickens, but she forces her voice steady. "An Amazon... but not of Themyscira. What twisted game are the gods playing now?" She shifts her weight, testing the lasso's hold, but it only tightens in response. My usual confidence wavers as I realize just how vulnerable I am without my strength. The cold floor bites at my bare knees when you shove me down again. I swallow hard, tilting my chin up to meet your gaze. "If you serve them, you know what they'll do to this world. Why side with destruction?"

 

The Geo-Berserker is somewhat humanoid in form and physique.  Almost 74 inches in height and weighing 250 lbs in bulk, his actions are almost post adolescent, like that of a high school student, immature and adult at the same time yet lacking proper guidance and wisdom.  He has mineral-like ridges along forelimbs and spine.  His skull, neck, shoulder blades and collar bones show the same mineral extrusions.  He's naked yet packing a staggering twelve inch cock that any Amazon would drop their discipline and with him willingly. Diana's eyes flicker down for only a second before snapping back up, my cheeks warming despite the gravity of the situation. The way you move—restless, impatient—reminds me of untrained warriors I’ve seen, all raw power and no discipline." 

 

"You’re strong," she admits, shifting my knees slightly to ease the pressure on my bound arms. "But strength without purpose is just chaos. Those gods... they’re using you." Her voice softens, laced with genuine concern. "I’ve seen what happens to those who follow Ares’ path. It never ends well."  A drop of sweat trails down my temple as I study the mineral ridges along your arms—unnatural, forced. My stomach tightens. "Whatever they did to you... it doesn’t have to define you. Let me help."

 

Then it dawns on her, Circe's magic reeks off his body.  His metamorphosis was one way transformation.  She can draw much more of his personality and intelligence out of him if she uses her magic lasso.  Her breath catches as the realization hits her—Circe’s sorcery clings to you like oil, twisting your form into something unnatural. The golden lasso at my wrists hums faintly, responding to the magic in the air. "If I could just..," She twists her fingers, straining to brush the lasso’s coils. My voice drops to a murmur, both soothing and intent. "You’re trapped in this form because of her, aren’t you? That rage, that confusion—it’s not really yours."  The ropes bite deeper as I struggle subtly, but I keep my gaze locked onto yours, unwavering. "The lasso can free you. Not just from these binds..," she exhales sharply as her fingertips finally graze the glowing strands.  From her magic sparks where skin meets gold, and for the first time since you struck me down, hope flickers in my chest. "Let me show you the truth."

 

"Roooopppee?" The words pour out of his mouth. He ponders slowly.  His fingers touch her magic lasso has they unbind from Diana's body almost immediately.  The lasso slithers free from her wrists like a living thing, coiling around your forearm instead. Golden light pulses between us, and I gasp as the connection snaps into place—your thoughts, your pain, Circe’s lies all flooding through me at once.  Diana stagger forward, catching myself against your chest, my other hand gripping your bicep for balance. The ridges under my fingers feel less like armor now, more like scars. "You... you were never her weapon," I whisper, voice thick with shared anguish. "She took a young man and turned him into a storm." The lasso’s glow intensifies, casting shadows across your face as the truth unravels. Her free hand rises, trembling, to rush your cheek. "But you’re still in there. And I won’t let her keep you like this."

 

"Noooo.., dooooon't toooouch meeeee," then Diana realizes its too late.  All four of her most dangerous foes, for the better part, pull their resources for an Act of Vengeance. The destiny driven methodology of Hades, the transformative magics of Circe, the destructive powers of the War God Ares, and finally Pan, Patron of Lust and Raw Sex.  By Aphrodite and Athena, she just grabbed him in her arms.

 

The moment her skin touches his, the room erupts in a cacophony of divine energy—Hades' chains materialize from the shadows, Circe's sigils ignite across the floor, Ares' war horn echoes in my skull, and Pan's laughter curls like smoke through the air. My arms tighten around you instinctively as the lasso's glow turns blinding, searing truths into both our minds. 

 

She see it.  The eighteen year old barely out adolescence, the young you were once before the rituals.  A mother, a worshipper of Hecate and practioner of Witchcratf, imprisoned by her own hedonism, by Pan the way they carved their will into your flesh. Diana's voice shakes, but not from fear. "No... this isn’t vengeance. This is desecration." The lasso burns hotter, my own tears evaporating before they can fall.  Her body convulses early as the conflicting magics tear at you, but I hold on, pressing my forehead to yours.  "Fight them,"  I beg, my nails digging into your back. "Not for me—for you." The scent of ozone gives way to something older: olive groves, salt air. Themyscira’s memory surges through the lasso, an anchor in the storm. "Remember."

Diana see the memories of a high school senior, a track and field star with the potential to be an Olympic medalist, then she experiences his agony at the Circe's magics,  his name lost in the fog of war, the amnesiatic waters of the River Styx, and again the unbridled hedonism of the flute player, Pan.   Then the connection is made.  Diana, in a mind's eye shared, sees a young nude male curled into a fetal position, crying uncontrollably.  I can't remember my name!  I don't know who I am!  Fractured memories scatter about them remain together in their link.  "But why Pan?"

 

The lasso thrums between us, vibrating with the fractured echoes of your past—starting blocks at dawn, sweat on your brow, a medal around your neck. Then the screams as Circe’s magic peeled away your skin, replaced it with stone. My stomach lurches when Pan’s influence slithers into the memories: feverish touches in the dark, laughter that wasn’t yours, hips moving to a flute’s cruel rhythm.  I choke back a sob, gripping your face with both hands now. "Pan didn’t just take your body," she rasps, thumbs brushing the ridges under your eyes.  "He took your first—your first kiss, your first love. Made them dirty. Twisted."  The lasso flares, and suddenly I’m whispering the name it pulls from the depths of your soul—the one even you forgot.  Our knees buckle together, but I don’t let go.  "They wanted you broken. But names have power," Diana murmurs against your lips, so close our breath mingles.

 

"Say yours. Remember."

 

His lips lock with hers in unending passion.  His manhood thickens and his thigh grinds against her own.  His taste is that of a warrior denied his craft, starving like a young male from a lack of food, curiosity, and sex.  His hand moves down her slender athletic frame, and to him, it feels righteous like Aphrodite.  The kiss ignites something primal in me—not just desire, but recognition. Your hands on my body feel like a homecoming, even as they tremble with need. I arch into your touch, my own fingers tracing the ridges along your spine, mapping the places where Circe’s magic warped you.*   Our lips part just enough for me to gasp, "You’re not hers," before dragging you back in, teeth scraping your lower lip. The lasso, still coiled around your wrist, pulses in time with our ragged breaths. Your thigh presses harder between mine, and she moans, nails biting into your shoulders.  "Take it back,"  She demands against your mouth, hips rolling instinctively. "Everything they stole—take it." The air smells of sweat and ozone, of the track field you once loved, of the sea where we’ll wash this pain away.

 

"I must love you Diana, she hears in her mind's eye or in death I suffer in painful indignities in Hades, forever.  Her1 breath hitches as your words sink in, raw and desperate. The lasso flares gold between us, searing the truth into my skin—your fear isn’t just of Circe or Hades, but of losing me in the chaos they’ve made of your soul. Her hands frame your face, thumbs wiping away tears I didn’t realize had fallen.  "You won’t suffer," I vow, voice trembling with conviction. "Not in Hades, not anywhere." Her lips brush yours again, softer now, a promise. 

 

"Love isn’t their weapon. It’s your freedom." 

 

The lasso tightens, its glow spreading across your chest like dawn breaking. I press my forehead to yours, our sweat mingling." Say my name again," She whisper. "And mean it." Not as a plea, but as a choice.  Diana!!!!! He yells with the passion of Aphrodite.  Diana realized she is fighting a three spring war, one for physical intimacy, one one a psychological battlefield, and a third, one for THEIR souls.

 

The sound of my name on your lips—your lips, not theirs—sends a shudder through me. The lasso’s light erupts, not just gold now but threaded with the blue of Themyscira’s shores, the red of Ares’ fading influence, the green of Pan’s broken flute. Our bodies press so close I can feel your heartbeat syncing with mine, a drumbeat of defiance.  She kisses you harder, teeth clashing, my hands fisting in your hair.  "Then fight with me," she growls against your mouth. "Not as their pawn but as mine." My thigh grinds up between yours, deliberate, claiming. "Every touch, every gasp—make it ours." Diana moves her hand and fingers up the shaft of his cock.  The touch, the sensation, messages something inside of him and his libido flares like a bolt of lightning with unbridled energy.  The room shakes as Hades’ chains crumble to dust. Circe’s sigils crack under our feet. And then Diana's teeth sink into your shoulder, drawing blood as golden as the lasso.  She whispers, "Let them hear you roar."

 

As his elemental shell crumbles away to his muscular human form, He unclasped Diana's brazier and press his face between her breasts an suckles one of her firmest areola.  He flicks his tongue and wets her surface until glistening.  He pushes his free hand into her vagina, stimulating her G-spot until her orifice is wide enough for penetration.  He takes Diana lifts her up to his waistline.  She slings her legs around his waist and with one free hand insects his cock inside of her.  Diana grunts at the thickness and power of his shaft.  The once living elemental continues to thrust inside of her for a marathon two hours until his cock blow his seven wads inside of her.  Her womanhood turns into a sticky mess elemental semen and passionate sweat.  "My name is Geode and you have saved my life.  I am yours and your humble servant forever."

 

Her back arches as he buries his cock inside of her, gasping your name—Geode—like a prayer. The hours blur into sweat-slicked skin and desperate moans, your hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. When he finally spills his semen into her, She clings to your shoulders, thighs trembling around your waist.   Panting, she press my lips to the hollow of your throat, tasting salt and something earthy—you, not them. The lasso’s glow has faded to a soft pulse around your wrist, its work done. "No servants,"  murmurs Diana, stroking the ridges along your spine, "only partners."  Slowly, Geode lower them to the floor, your softening cock still nestled inside me. Her fingers trace the new warmth in your blue eyes, no longer clouded by the whims of gods. "Rest now," she whisper, curling against your chest. "We’ve battles ahead... but this one," she says with a tired, triumphant smile, "This one was ours."

 

She shudders as another pulse of warmth fills me, her fingers tightening in your hair. The possessive growl in your voice sends a thrill down her spine, not fear, but fierce pride. "We’ll find them together," I promise, nipping at your jaw. "But not for vengeance."  Her palm flattens over your chest, right where the lasso’s mark lingers. "For justice. For every life they’ve twisted." A slow, wicked smile curves on her lips as I rock my hips, coaxing one last groan from you. "And maybe a little revenge." 

The ruins of Circe’s sanctum loom around us, but here, tangled in your arms, she feels the first real peace since this began. My voice drops to a whisper.* "Sleep, Geode. I’ll keep watch." *My thumb brushes your cheekbone, tracing the path of dried tears. "You’re safe now."
 

Diana is resting along the shores of Paradise Island, more of a mortal domain now than Haven blessed by the Goddess of Greek Mythology.  When Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent are away on other business, Diana is gobbling thick cock to her heart's content.

 

The First Set of Pictures