Althaea held her newborn son in her arms, only seven days old. While staring into the fire on the hearth, she made an attempt to enter into a trance to see what fate would hold for her handsome son. At first, she thought she'd failed, but the crackle of the fire in the palace nursery stopped snapping as an odd wind breezed past. Still staring at the hearth, Althaea stood up, moving closer to the window to listen to the Moerae singing in the wind.
Clotho, the youngest, sang of the child's lineage and of his nobility. Lachesis, the middle sister, sang of the child's heart and bravery. Althaea had smiled in quiet acknowledgement of the first song; her pulse quickened with excitement on hearing the second. She locked her vision still onto the fire, particularly on the smallest piece of charred wood, for she knew she could keep her concentration at least long enough until it would burn out.
As excited as Althaea was on hearing of the sung glory of her young prince, her heart sank when the eldest sister, Atropus, began her sad lament. "He will live," she sang, "Only as long as this brand remains unconsumed."
Desperately wanting her son live a more prolonged life, wanting him to find adventure and eventually rule as king, she set him down, grabbed a pair of tongs, and pulled the small brand from the fire. She let it cool on a stone, then taking the charred piece in one hand and her son in the other, carried them both to her bedroom. She laid her child onto the bed, placed the brand into a small wooden chest, and tucked it away to be hidden in her drawing room. Althaea suckled her son on her bed that night, assuring herself that her prince would indeed lead a brave and noble existence... and a very long one, at that.
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The forest had its usual sounds as Actaeon listened carefully. He had sent his hounds into the hills to flush whatever prey they could find toward him for an easier shot. Though he would normally make some sort of noise, a slight crunching of underbrush, a small splash in the stream, this day Actaeon was pleased that he padded silently along the banks... perhaps he might even find a deer or a boar to feed his party in the distance without the aid of his beloved fierce hunting dogs.
A certain splash or trickle coming from the stream seemed out of place, though, and Actaeon moved slowly on to investigate its source. He approached stealthily and spied what a less intelligent man could have mistaken for a woman bathing in the running water; even though he came from behind her side, Actaeon knew her features to be too perfect for that of a mortal. He had never seen one before, but was certain he was in the presence of the stream's naiad.
Actaeon silently laid his bow and quiver next to a tree and removed his sandals, then crept upstream along the bank until catching her profile. Her dark hair was immaculately trimmed above her shoulders, baring her body underneath. Her breasts were full and spherical, her waist lean and firm. While she sat in the flowing water, what he could see of the soft curves of her calves and thighs were nothing short of magnificent. He ached to see more of the naiad's body, his cock growing harder with every witnessing second, but he dared not frighten the creature away.
Still, his aching and desire took control of his body, and he reached down beneath his tunic to stroke his member. Though the palm of his hand was rough against his tumescent cock, it gave him at least some relief as he fantasized about taking the naiad. It was said if a mortal were to mate with one, he would become king of a city that would grow on that site. Power and lust drove him on, and Actaeon took a few steps farther upstream to espy a more frontal view.
The only sounds in the forest were that of the streaming current of the water and the spattering on the creature's skin as she bathed. Actaeon watched her beautiful face, her small nose, her deep eyes, the sway of her breasts with her every motion. Her bath was near completion and she stood up. The curve of her hips amazed him and the sight of her naked pussy almost drove him to orgasm on the spot. He had to have her, and he had to have her now. Actaeon took three silent steps toward her, pulling and jerking on his cock, then grunted in disappointment stepped on a twig just shy of the stream.
The snap of the wood alarmed her and the nude creature made direct eye contact with the hunter and with one swift motion, lifting her arm straight out, palm extended, urged the man to stop in his tracks. Actaeon could not move a muscle, except to continue stroking himself. He seemed unable to stop, compelled to masturbate while his feet were trapped in the muddy bank.
Faster and faster he stroked, until his cum began streaming out of his member. With every drop that landed onto the ground, a squirrel or rabbit sprang from it; with every drop that fell into the stream, a fish would appear with a splash and swim away.
Actaeon panicked immediately. Even a naiad might have her desires and had she deemed him worthy, he could have indeed become a king. But with his body controlled at the whim of the creature before him, he knew he was standing before, and had insulted, the virgin goddess of the wild, Artemis, herself.
"What makes you, mere mortal, believe you are allowed to see me like this, or even at all?" The hunter could never find the correct words to respond and didn't bother trying. Artemis continued, incensed, "And I suppose you'll boast to your friends how you spied a goddess? What impiety is this?"
Actaeon knew with the slightest wrong word or gesture he would be dead in an instant. Artemis in firm tone warned, "If you ever speak again, I will turn you into a stag. Do you understand?" The hunter nodded in agreement.
He also knew that the magical silence he'd enjoyed was long gone as the bark of his hounds grew louder and, beyond them, the rest of his hunting party. The goddess stood her ground, awaiting his reaction.
"Actaeon! Actaeon!" his friends called from the crest of a hill. They hadn't yet seen him, but the hunter knew they'd approach within a minute. "Actaeon!"
He wished the goddess would vanish, but she remained in place, standing naked before him. "Actaeon!" At any moment his friends would see her as well and have a similar fate cast upon them. The dogs were coming closer, barking wildly, running as hard as they could down the hill. "Actaeon!" He couldn't bear to see the party arrive. "Actaeon!"
"No! Turn back!" he shouted in warning.
"If you ever speak again," the goddess reiterated, and in that second, the mortal transformed into a stag. Artemis watched as the dogs were first on the scene, unable to recognize what was once their master, and now their prey. The hounds tore into the deer with their fangs, shredding it limb from limb, and the goddess disappeared before being seen by any other man.
