This is an entry into Literotica's 2025 Valentine's Day Contest. Thank you for reading and if you reach the end and liked the story, please take a moment to vote, and/or leave a word or two. It's highly appreciated.
And yes, Cupids in a real place and that's the correct spelling. Newfoundland is filled with unusual place names. This is just one of them.
February 13 - 9:25 pm Newfoundland Standard Time (NST) (UTC - 3:30)
The stranger landed on the outskirts of town in the middle of winter and sighed. He didn't like the cold, but when hiding from family, it was best to go where they would never look. Too many times before, when he'd gotten in trouble, he'd been predictable. They'd found him on a beach or somewhere tropical.
Not this time. This time, he would lie low until it all blew over, and the family either forgot about what he did or forgave him for it.
He looked around at the snow, rocks and trees and determined that being naked was not the best option. He wasn't cold, but wandering around with no clothes on in freezing temperatures would draw attention. Attention was bad. He concentrated, and a red silk shirt formed across his torso, showing off plenty of his chest. A pair of black linen pants and stylish black boots followed. A tanned overcoat and grey cashmere scarf were the final touches. He briefly thought about a hat and then shuddered.
He loved his reddish-blonde hair. And there are limits to how far he would go to disguise himself.
The stranger walked down the middle of the road, the snow disappearing as he walked so the slush wouldn't ruin his boots. It was small magic—nothing his family would detect.
He paused by the sign welcoming him to town and smiled. It was always nice to find places named after him. The rest of his family had plenty of cities and towns named after them, but he only had a few. There was always so much happening that he never had time to visit them, but it was the perfect spot to lay low for a while.
Just a couple of days until tempers cooled. What could go wrong in a couple of days?
The god of desire walked towards the Town of Cupids, in the Canadian province of Newfoundland, smiling and whistling a song not heard on Earth in over 2,000 years.
February 14, 3:05 am Eastern European Time (EET) (UTC +2:00).
Generally speaking.
"I...will....kill....him!" Zeus roared. His voice was never quiet, but it was louder than usual given his current humiliation. Above Athens, thunder cracked the sky, making people pause and look up.
"Oh, calm down, husband," Hera said, shifting uncomfortably. "We all have our grievances with the little shit. He hasn't pulled a stunt like this in who-knows-how-long."
To be fair, Hera pretended to be mad more than she was. Cupid's little stunt might have humiliated her husband, and the rest of the Pantheon to a lesser degree, but she was an old hand at humiliation by this point. It was nice to see him have to wear it for a change.
Besides, as humiliations went, a dozen men pleasuring her after a rave in Athens was hardly the worst thing that had ever happened to her, not by a longshot.
"My humiliation exceeds all yours!"
Hera should know better. She thought it should be tattooed on her wrist to look at it whenever she felt the urge to be sarcastic to her husband.
"He was a perfectly nice goat, husband. I'm sure the two of you will do an excellent job of ruling Olympus together," she said.
The look on her husband's face would have been hilarious, except she knew what was coming next. Hera braced for the cost of her words when Aphrodite appeared in the throne room.
Aphrodite was used to her father's rages. It's all she had known her whole existence. Every day, he raged at some or another. But even by his usual standards, this was the worst in a while.
"You summoned me, Father?" Aphrodite asked.
"Where is your shit of a son?" Zeus said, lighting crackling around him. Hera looked uncomfortable, probably fearing her husband's temper. Aphrodite merely fussed at all the static electricity making a mess of her hair.
"No clue," she said. Her father didn't look happy with her answer. "This is his time of power. Valentine's Day approaches. He always gets a little crazy at this time of the year. Hence, his little....adventure with some of us."
Zeus came down from the throne and walked towards her. Aphrodite kept her composure. She had a healthy degree of respect and fear for her father. On paper, today she was as powerful as he was. In reality, the power of love could only do so much against a narcissist with lightning bolts.
"You have until the end of today to find him, my little goddess. My rage needs an outlet. If not him, then someone else will do," he said, making it clear who he would take it out on.
"At once, Father," Aphrodite said and then quickly removed herself from his presence. She appeared at her home in Cyprus. She had many homes, but the one closest to her place of birth would be best for the task at hand. She walked through the courtyard and appreciated the perfect beauty of the fig trees and her favourite oak tree. The flowers remained in bloom all year round. Nearby, a path led to a grotto.
Aphrodite stopped by a mirror in the house's entranceway and fixed her appearance. She hated being around her father. Aside from his arrogance, the lightning wreaked havoc with her appearance. A goddess of beauty always had to look her best.
"Tell me you had nothing to do with this, Sister," Hermes said, appearing in the living room. For a god of speed, he had a gift of being late when dealing with their father's rages. Then again, he was also a god of cunning. It didn't take much of that to avoid Zeus when he was in one of these moods.
Hermes moved quickly around the room, unable to stand still. Aphrodite sighed. Although he was always pleasant to look at, he was a coward regarding their father.
Well, so was she, but she at least had the dignity to hide it better.
"Our son is capable of creating mischief without needing me to whisper suggestions in his ear," she said. He looked skeptical. "Very well, by Horkos I played no direct role in his latest mischief."
Hermes paced, doing damage to the rug. Aphrodite made a noise. The rug was beautiful, of course. Everything in her home had to be. And she could fix it, but it was the principle of the thing. Damaging a host's property was rude, even for a god.
"A goat. I mean, funny, but what was Eros thinking?"
"That Father could use the humbling,"
Aphrodite thought, but did not say.
"At this time of the year, he prefers Cupid," she said. Hermes rolled his eyes. "But none of that matters. We have larger problems than what he did. I can't find him."
Hermes finally paused.
"He's your son. How can you not find him?"
"He's
our
son," she said, which was theoretically true. It had been a sizable orgy with a lot of wine. Hermes was one of several suspects along with Ares and Hephaestus. She picked him as the boy's father because he was pretty and didn't have anger issues. It was a decision she had cause to regret more than once over the millennia. "He's not in one of his usual hiding spots. His usual idea of being clever is hiding on a beach on Lesbos. I've looked at every beach and bar in Greece. He's not there," she said.
Hermes vanished for a moment, then reappeared, shaking his head. Aphrodite went and poured herself some strong Greek coffee. She wasn't in the mood for wine. And she guessed she would need the energy to deal with her wayward son.
"If Cupid's walking among mortals, he should stand out," he said.
"Sure, except Valentine's Day is sweeping around the world. Love and desire are everywhere. Cupid is never more powerful than he is right now; otherwise, he would never have gotten away with what he did.
"It also makes him almost impossible to find. The only way that happens is if he makes a mistake. Fortunately, he makes them all the time, so we'll spot him when he slips up."
Unspoken was that Cupid hadn't tried something like this in a long time, as best as she could remember. The problem with being a god is that they are very of the moment. Great at remembering things thousands of years ago; not great at remembering last week.
If Cupid laid low for a few days, his grandfather might forget and move on to something else that triggered him. The problem for Aphrodite was that if he didn't turn up, she had no doubt her father's rage would find other targets.
She didn't mind a little bondage now and then, but didn't fancy being chained to a rock in Tartarus for a few centuries.
"I'll check some mortal cities like Paris and New York. Perhaps he's there," Hermes said and vanished before she could say anything.
She fixed her hair again and walked through her ornate house, passing mirrors and artwork. The mirrors showed how beautiful she was now; the artwork showed how artists interpreted her beauty over the centuries.
Finally, she reached the only locked door in the house. A key appeared in her hand, and she entered a surprisingly sparse room. Inside there was only a comfortable chaise and what seemed to be another mirror. The edges were ornate and gold. But the surface was black, reflecting nothing at the moment.
Aphrodite could find anything with enough energy, focus, and time using this mirror. The problem was, she didn't have the time to search everywhere. Europe was still a mess. She could ask Athena for help but didn't fancy the smug look on her sister's face when she did. Plus, Athena might have plans for her son. That was quite the train she had run on her at that club.
Love and lust were sweeping the world. This was the best time of the year for her - not because she was powerful, which was nice and all, but because it felt good. So much of the year belonged to others or was dreary and sad.
Days of love and desire always put her in a good mood. But her son took advantage of this day more than she did. He was almost as powerful as she was. Or at least powerful enough to obscure her view.
"I love you, son. But please make a mistake before father finds a new and creative method of punishment,"
Aphrodite thought.
February 13 - 9:55 pm NST
