The Classic Introduction:

When Jason was gathering the heroes of his time together for the trip to Colchis to steal the Golden Fleece, he was joined by none other than Alcides, who was by then more commonly known as Heracles - "Hera's glory" - for his great deeds. Heracles was later called Hercules by the Romans.

Accompanying Heracles on the journey was his young servant Hylas, a gorgeous youth whose origins were undisclosed. Hylas was the only person travelling aboard the great Argo able to soften the great Heracles, who lacked restraint for his violent temper as well as any notable intelligence.

When the Argonauts stopped at an island to rest from their travels, Heracles sent Hylas into the woods to fetch water. When Hylas reached a secluded spring, the nymph of the spring, hiding in the water, was so enraptured by the youth's beauty that she grabbed him as he bent down to fill his water-jar and dragged him into the depths.

When Hylas did not return from the woods, Heracles went nearly mad with loss, and completely forgetting his vow to aid Jason in recovering the Golden Fleece, he left the Argo and the Argonauts and searched the island in vain for his lost companion. Jason and the Argonauts continued on to Colchis without the hero.

And so, our story begins.

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The Story:

The handsome/brutish man tromped out of the cave of Avernus with a grin of triumph and unspeakable joy. Having just delivered Cerberus back to the Underworld, Heracles had completed his twelfth and final atonement for his accidental murder of his family, caused by a madness set upon him by Hera. He set the massive bow in his right hand down onto the gravel, and began to effortlessly tear the sack in which he had transported Cerberus into strips for use as bandages. He stuffed the strips into a pack on his back - also on his back was a quiver of bronze arrows, each dipped in the poison of the Lernean Hydra and decked out in eagle feathers.

Heracles picked up his bow and stepped a few paces out from the cave's shadow into the light of a late summer afternoon. In the light his clothing became apparent: he wore only a large lionskin cloak with the hood down, a clean linen loincloth belted with a leather strap, and heavy, fur-lined boots. His body was wonderful: deep-chested and fit, hairlessly smooth, and well-sculpted throughout, large without looking unwieldy. A mop of wavy, sand-toned hair glittered with beige quartz and yellow gold. Smooth, black eyebrows, dramatic in their absolute lack of curvature, hung over eyes that oscillated between silver and hazel. His patrician nose had the slightest of hooks; thin, well-formed lips completed the face - although he was clean-shaven, he still had a dark, sexy facial shadow. His milky/dusty Hibernian complexion was a shade lighter than the color of the leonine cloak he had donned.

Heracles started to head in the general direction of Mycenae, where he wished to stop before heading on to Iolcus: Iolcus, where King Aeson's lost son Jason had returned and was planning an expedition to Colchis for a golden ramskin kept there. The great man had taken not five steps when he heard a faint, tortured shrieking in the nearby forest. Putting down his pack and notching one of his poisoned arrows to his bow in a wise preparation, Heracles rushed to the rescue.

Investigations led only to the discovery of a clearing where wild peacocks were strutting and screaming in their annoyingly grating fashion.

The sight of the birds gave Heracles major hunger pangs; in the excitement of taking Cerberus to and from the Underworld he hadn't eaten for four days. Thus he let fly the arrow he had notched without further hesitation, quickly dispatching a relatively drab-looking, female peacock. The other birds flew off, leaving their ululations behind.

But then, as the man approached the dying peacock, the bloodied bird morphed into an immensely beautiful, bleeding woman. A pallor characteristic of the moribund had already suffused her skin. She was clothed in a blindingly white robe and an indigo mantle; a diadem of lapis lazuli lozenges and star sapphire cabochons crowned her head - it was her skull that was gruesomely pierced by the arrow. Strands of iridescent, rainbow-colored hair sprouted among the jet-black tresses that were stained with gushing purple ichor; her hair streamed down to her waist. The snowy wings sprouting from her bare feet twitched in unbearable pain; her closed eyes remained motionless.

The varicolored nature of the woman's hair and the wings on her feet told Heracles that he had shot the goddess Iris.

As the magnitude of his deed sank in, Heracles observed a small cloud which floated down to and enveloped the goddess. The cloud quickly evaporated, revealing only an ichor-stained depression in the earth.

Heracles heard Hera's screams in the air although he could not find the goddess anywhere in his vision - the normally fruity contralto voice had become a shrill soprano:

"You wretched, blasted piece of my husband's adultery! You shot my trusted messenger and scared off my sacred peacocks from the sanctuary I have made for them. Because of you and your stomach Iris is in torture yet can't die! Asclepius says that although he can heal the brain and skull and purge the poison from her system, it will take a miracle to prevent permanent brain damage!"

Heracles, shaken and deeply remorseful, responded to the air with his light tenor voice: "O queen of the gods, great wife of Zeus, please forgive this lowly mortal. I admit I wrongfully tried to kill a sacred peacock of yours for food, but I swear I did not know that the bird I shot was the light-footed Iris in disguise. Please be forgi..."

"Silence! You must be punished, and thus I command you to perform a thirteenth labor: find me a piece of living, breathing, talking marble, and make it a nice, white-colored, marble. I shall use this piece of marble as a pillar in a temple that is being erected to me on Olympus, and all the other goddesses shall marvel at the phenomenon."

"But... talking marble? Only divine Hephaestus can do that! How do I..."

"Did I not tell you to shut your cursed trap? I swear by the Styx that if you can't obtain a nice piece of snow-white, living marble in three days, I'll give you a punishment like the one Ixion's getting, only hotter. It's only fitting for the pain you inflicted on dear Iris. Hades has already sworn by the Styx to follow my plans. If, by some miracle, you do find living marble, I'm sworn to let you go unharmed."

As Hera spoke these last words she unearthily materialized in front of Heracles. He could see that for all her semi-righteous bitchiness that Hera was divinely pretty - though not as beautiful as the unfortunate Iris - from her cornflower eyes, curling black hair, and angry mouth, to her lovely white arms and full figure. She wore a robe the color of African violets and a heavy circlet of platinum rested in her hair.

The goddess continued as Heracles gaped at her entrance: "I'll accompany you for the ordained three days so that I can personally send you to Tartarus for you to receive your punishment." Maliciously grinning, the goddess went on, her dangerously dulcet alto restored: "Too bad your omnipotent daddy is away on business, hmm?" Hera walked off towards the cave of Avernus where Heracles had left his gear; the stunned man followed after a few seconds.

In actuality, Hera had sent the unknowing Iris to the clearing in the disguise of a peacock; it was Hera who, with Famine's help, induced hunger pangs in Heracles to ensure that he would shoot one of the birds; lastly, Hera herself had directed the arrow to Iris. The goddess knew that there was no such thing as living marble - Hephaestus was indeed the only living being who might have been able to create such a thing - and there was no temple for Hera being built at Olympus; Hera had even used certain tricks to cause Zeus' present absence from Europe. It was her elaborate scheme devised to get an excuse to give Heracles eternal torture in Hades, and she had even deliberately misused her trusted and trusting Iris to pull it off.

But although Zeus was away on business and was thus unable to stop Hera or help his son, Nemesis saw what was happening and saved Heracles:

Heracles was the first to reach the cave of Avernus - he had deliberately walked on ahead of the goddess, not wanting to hear what she had to say - and as he resignedly picked up his pack, he noticed a person swimming in the lake located downhill from the cave. Abandoning his pack a second time, with his bow again in hand, Heracles ran down to the water to find out why anyone would be in this harsh, deserted place and stopped dead in his tracks when the swimmer emerged about twenty feet away.

Heracles' breath caught in his throat; it was a naked boy of about fifteen. He could not tear his eyes off of the adolescent. Shades, he was beautiful! The boy's rich, curling, dark chestnut hair dripped with water that trickled down the manly/delicate face: his lips were perfectly formed, not too thin, not too full; the well-chiseled, aquiline nose was nestled between high, ruthless cheekbones. Even from this distance Heracles could see the boy's piercing emerald eyes and the unfairly long lashes surrounding them. Smooth, black eyebrows, thicker than gull's wings and just as beautiful, arched gently. Due to the boy's youth, his smooth, lean body - exquisite enough in its sleekness - was not as well-defined as the man's, but Heracles could still see that the boy was nonetheless well on the way to having the type of build he himself had. His complexion was very white, yet flushed with a healthy red that was partly natural and partly due to the invigorating swim in cold water. It was not a milky white like Heracles' skin; rather, it was more like marble.

Like perfect, white, living marble.

Heracles grinned. It was worth a shot.

Not noticing the staring/grinning man, the boy lay down on the sand and let the waves wash over him. He had been thrice engulfed when Hera came running up to Heracles, who couldn't stop smiling/smirking, at the boy's beauty and at his good fortune.

"Well? You've already wasted enough time; we have to get going! What's so funny?"

Pointing with his heavy bow at the boy in the surf, Heracles snickered in relief: "There's your living marble." At the moment water from an ebbing wave was rushing down the boy's limbs as he lay in the surf, causing his body to glisten like a glass-encased sculpture.

After she got over her initial astonishment, Hera's face darkened to match the color of her crown.

Heracles continued with a feline/smug confidence. "Will you use him as a pillar for your temple? I think not. But remember: you swore by the Styx that you'd leave me alone."

Emitting an outraged scream, Hera transformed into a peacock and flew away. Even though that accursed kid was not the sort of living marble she'd meant, Hera could not risk breaking her Stygian oath; she should have specified that the living marble not be made of mortal flesh when she swore by the Styx.

With immense relief, Heracles immediately forgot about the goddess and turned his attentions to the boy; the youth apparently had not heard Hera's parting scream, so engrossed was he in enjoying the cool water, and he got up, shaking his hair to rid it of the excess water. Heracles' relieved grin turned into an admiring/sensuous smile and he walked to the boy, saying unimaginatively: "Hey, what are you doing out here?"

As if out of reflex, the boy gave a startled yelp without even turning to look in Heracles' direction and started to run down the shore of the lake. His legs, though long, were no match for Heracles' stride, and Heracles soon caught the boy by the arm. The two stood face to face in the surf; with a start Heracles saw that he was only slightly taller than the boy.

"Now, calm down, I'm not gonna hurt you. Why are you here in this place all alone, if you are all alone, and how long have you been here? How old are you? What's your name?"

Caught under Heracles' concerned/sensual/demanding hazel gaze, the boy's eyes darted about like those of a wild gazelle just captured by a hunter; but, as his breathing slowed, he calmed down enough to answer the man in a deep, cracking, baritone.

"Hylas. My name's Hylas; I've seen fifteen summers. I was separated from my family's hunting party about three weeks ago and I've been travelling alone ever since. I should have stayed in the place where I got lost so that the others might have been able to find me, but I didn't really want to be found. They treated me badly and I wanted to be out on my own. I've made a shelter back in the woods."

It was pretty careless of Hylas to tell a stranger these things, and Heracles could tell that the innocent boy was being completely honest with him. Yet the man also knew that Hylas had to have a good mind as well as a good body to have survived in this harsh area. He thought that Jason's trip to Colchis would be a good learning experience for this obviously smart, resourceful boy.

More importantly, Hylas was too good-looking to leave behind.

Heracles kept staring at the boy and gripping his arm until a rather loud wave washing around their feet brought him back to reality. Blinking and uncharacteristically flushing, the man said, "I'm Heracles. I'm on my way to Iolcus to join Prince Jason on his trip to Colchis for a golden ramskin; how would you like to come along and be my assistant?" Heracles reluctantly slid his hand off of Hylas' arm, but not without giving it a telltale caress. "Since you survived by yourself for so long you should be fine in my company."

Hylas in turn was becoming more and more attracted to Heracles, from the deep-chested, smoothly muscular body; the large hands that gripped the giant bow; the scent of sandalwood he exuded; the brooding/sensuous black eyebrows; to the hair which fell into the man's eyes at times, eyes reminiscent of the odd agate stone the boy had once seen. Hylas became excited not only at the prospect of seeing Colchis but also at the thought of accompanying this man.

Hylas seemed to add a teasing sensuality to his already excited tone of voice: "Oh, can I? That quest is all they talked about where I lived. And could I... serve you? Even after the expedition is over?"

Devouring the boy with his eyes, Heracles quickly replied, "Of course."

Both men were too busy appraising each other to notice what the other was doing, and Hylas said a bit bemusedly, "Great! Let me get my things; they're on that rock over there."

From a convenient lookout on a nearby hill, Hera observed the scene. That bastard son of her husband was standing in the surf eyeing the wretched urchin who had ruined her plans as the boy ran to some rock, picked up something, and ran back to Heracles. She cursed at the pair.

"So, the great Heracles has fallen for that prepubescent? Well, I'll just have to punish Heracles some other way: they'll leave Iolcus together, but see if that boy'll ever come back!"

Having thus prophesied, a satisfied Hera returned to the splendid palace at Olympus, where Asclepius pronounced that Iris had completely healed; due to the god's expert skill Iris had only lost some of the neurons governing her hearing. Relieved to know that Iris would still be able to function as her oblivious pawn in other machinations, Hera docilely awaited the arrival of Zeus, who had been away on the pressing business she had created.

Hylas had run back to Heracles with a pair of nondescript sandals and a forest green tunic in his hands. He rinsed out his feet in a gentle wave that came in, getting rid of sand and dirt, and, throwing the tunic over his shoulder, he bent to lace up his sandals when he felt Heracles' eyes on his body.

Unaccountably, Hylas' hands shook as he fumbled with the sandals' straps, and he stammeringly mentioned that the rest of his things were at his shelter.

The boy had finished lacing up his footwear and was straightening up to slip on his tunic when Heracles nervously snatched the green fabric off Hylas' shoulder.

"Ah, before you put that on, why don't we go to your shelter and, and talk. Get to know each other before we go to Iolcus and then Colchis."

Having observed Heracles' harsh breathing, darkened eyes, dilated pupils, and the way the man's left hand clenched both the massive bow and the soft tunic, Hylas knew exactly how Heracles wanted to get acquainted. He could sense his own pupils expanding as he moved closer to Heracles, always keeping eye contact, and placed his hands so that his palms rested on Heracles' exposed lower abdomen, his fingers on the loincloth. Hylas smiled devilishly/engagingly and Heracles forgot to breathe.

"The sooner the better." Hylas slowly slid his hands down an inch or so, pressing gently with his fingers.

Heracles fought not to close his eyes in enjoyment and nearly dropped the bow and tunic in the effort. Not so innocent after all, he thought. He moved away reluctantly and slid his free, bare right arm around the waist of the naked Hylas. The smooth, strong skin felt like a dream to Heracles; the older man breathed in the smell of Hylas' damp, sun-soaked hair. Hylas reveled in the musky/spicy heat radiating from Heracles' body.

"Come, the shelter is that way." Hylas epitomized coyness.

"With pleasure, but first, I need to get something."