Golden Touch 1

Although I'm sure that you may have read or heard the story of King Midas and the golden touch once or twice before, I assure you that the version that you saw in your dog-eared children's storybooks, covered with hand prints of strawberry jam, or the version that tumbled from the pursed lips of your third-grade teacher, whose polyester skirt hissed and slithered as she walked around your desk, are not the way it really happened. If you'll stay with me awhile, just a little while, I will tell what actually occurred all those many centuries ago before the story of King Midas was tied down, trussed up, and shoved into the milk-white halls of well-worn legend.

And, by Apollo and the thunderbolts of Zeus, I swear that every word is true.

Once upon a time, when the times were much more magical than they are now, there was a land called Phrygia. And in this land, there was a king who loved gold.

In fact, it would be safe to say that King Midas adored, coveted, desired, and even worshiped gold; and it was not uncommon for the king to spend hour upon hour in one of his crowded treasure rooms, touching and fondling the marvelous items locked within them. Like a child with a guilty secret, the king would smile in the candlelight, fondling the gilded scepter that he had wrested from the cold hand of his slain enemy King Phalledes, the two delicate pomegranates of solid gold that he had extricated from the bed chamber of Princess Testerion, or any of a hundred other finely wrought items of that precious metal that he possessed.

Why, if the mood was upon him, the mere sight of a single, shiny gold bar, resplendent in its purity and simplicity, would be enough to stir the kingly desire of Midas, causing him to release his royal sex from the shimmering folds of his robe and masturbate with delight and vigor until he had covered the glittering ingot's finish with his own pearly warmth.

Yes, Midas did indeed love gold, and he often fantasized about quenching his flesh in the bright and shiny cool of imaginary, gilded goddesses. In fact, there were few things the king loved more than to feast his senses on the nubile young women of his harem adorned with the glistening yellow perfection of his favorite metal. Indeed, the king's fantasy of golden women was so powerful that he had his tailors create for his concubines, suits of golden silk that covered them from head to toe so that the flesh and blood women of his seraglio might more closely resemble the metallic women of his dreams. The shimmering, high collared costumes fastened up the back with over fifty pearl buttons and were individually tailored so that each skintight outfit emphasized the particular attributes of the woman that wore it. But, although the silken outfits were truly splendid, they still were not enough for the king. Gold has a special look, a shimmering fire that is like nothing else, and no one knew this better than King Midas.

Despite all his best efforts (which were prodigious indeed, I can tell you), the king could not find a goldsmith in the kingdom with enough skill to create threads from the precious substance that were fine enough to weave into a garment such as the king truly desired, and this depressed Midas greatly.

Of course, when kings are depressed it can spell a great deal of trouble for their kingdoms, and when the king's closest advisor...a wiry and drawn faced fellow who went by the name of Heroditus... realized that it was only a matter of time before the headsman's ax gobbled up the kingdom's entire supply of metal artisans, he wasted no time in suggesting that perhaps it was high time for his majesty to throw a banquet to lift his spirits.

"A banquet? Why, yes, that sounds like a fine idea!" the king exclaimed to the vast relief of the assorted servants, serviles, and suck-ups.

"An excellent idea, in fact!" Midas smiled, stroking his beard. He then commanded that the all other matters be dropped and that planning for the banquet begin at once (much to the relief of the metal smith's guild).

In those days, King Midas was well renowned for his banquets, and this particular one outshone them all. The wine flowed freely from earthen jugs, joints of meat tumbled over one another upon the tables, fruits were stacked high upon the serving trays, and it was rumored in whispers that Bacchus himself was in attendance.

Of course, there was plenty of entertainment. The finest pick of the king's slaves and servants were everywhere: their wrists and arms resplendent in fine golden bracelets, their necks clasped in golden collars, and their naked flesh sparkling from the gold dust that had been lovingly applied with blow tubes and a coating on their skin of the light, sticky-sweet sap of yacoba trees. And as the slaves and servants danced, played upon their instruments, or busied themselves with the serving of the meal, each noble guest was encouraged to pinch, poke, and prod the magnificent creatures as they passed by.

But the highlight...the pinnacle...the absolute crowning glory of the banquet was the orgy afterwards, in which the guests stripped themselves bare and smothered one another in scented oils until the celebration had dissolved into a glistening, groping mass surrounded on all sides by comely pleasure slaves who rushed to provide more oil and other services as the need arose. Needless to say, King Midas was in the thick of it all, his golden rings twinkling, as he sampled one lithe and well-born body after another.

And when the banquet was finally over, Midas composed himself with the help of his servants, accepted the lavish compliments of his guests graciously, and saw each noble visitor out the door, one by one. After the party goers had gone, and all the pleasure slaves had been tucked away for the night (which was now nearly morning), the king took one final walk through the aftermath of what had truly been his most wonderful banquet ever. Suddenly, lo and behold, Midas tripped over an old friend of his, a satyr by the name of Silenus, who was passed out upon one of the seating cushions on the floor of the great hall. The king shook his head pleasantly as his hairy friend's legs twitched and a thin trickle of drool ran down the satyr's inebriated cheek.

Midas called for his servants immediately and had his friend placed in one of the king's finest guest rooms, not to be disturbed until such time as the satyr was able to shake off the effect of the night's debacle.

It was a full three days before Silenus was clear headed enough to make his way, with a little clip-clop, clip-clop, upon the marble floors and down the gilded halls to the golden throne of his friend Midas.

"Well met, friend Selinus," the king called out as the satyr wobbled a little unsteadily on his hooves towards the throne.

"Well met indeed, your highness," Selenus replied and then let out a small belch that reeked slightly of spring wine. The satyr was still a little shaken, but was feeling more like his old libidinous self with each passing moment. " I wish to thank your Excellency properly for tending to my state these past few days as well as for the splendid banquet. As you know, I am favored by Bacchus, the god of wine, and it is within my power to grant you a single wish if you so desire it."

The king's ears perked up and Heroditus' face dropped noticeably at this.

"A wish, did you say?"

Anything your heart desires my lord, but think on it well, since there are many things in this world to choose from," the satyr replied.

Now, Midas knew that wishes are tricky things, and although he was not an especially far-sighted man, he wasn't a complete dolt either. After a long moment's thought in which the sharp, hissing intake of the advisor's breath could be heard, the king smugly made his wish.

"Silenus, as you are no doubt aware, I have a certain overwhelming fondness for gold, and what I wish is that I be able to transform anything I so desire into that wonderful substance. Now it would be foolish of me to ask for a touch of gold, since I could hardly be able to eat or drink that way, and, besides, I think I would like something a little bit more under my own control. Since I already have more than enough children scattered throughout the realm, I wish to be able to draw out my royal member and, at the peak of excitement, turn to gold whatever outside of myself my seed should happen to gush out upon."

Heroditus erased a peculiar look off of his face by wiping the flat of his hand over his eyes as the satyr considered the king's request.

"Hmmm, an unusual wish, but not an impossible one," Selinus replied, shifting form one goatish leg to the other. Your desire will be fulfilled, friend king, but now, if you will excuse me, I must take my leave of you. Bacchus has a wonderful revelry planned for this evening, and I shouldn't want to miss it." And as the sound of the satyr's hooves faded down the gold trimmed passageways, Kind Midas felt his head tickle with the excitement of a hundred possibilities.

That night, according to plan, Midas had one of his favorite concubines, a voluptuous eastern girl with bright green eyes and a succulent mouth, brought to his bedchamber. The girl, whose name was Marta, was dressed in the king's favorite costume of clinging golden silk, the ends of its long sleeves squeezed under a pair of kidskin gloves the girl had been instructed to wear.

Positively rigid with anticipation, the king beckoned Marta toward him. Marta came forward on her hands and knees, as she knew this pleased her king very much, and began to kiss his naked feet. She slowly worked her tongue over her master's ankles and up his legs, bundling up his thin dressing gown in her hands as she went. When Marta's mouth came near the king's waist, his sex cried out stiffly for her attention. Happy to oblige, Marta took the organ in one gloved hand and began to gingerly apply her oral skills in the service of her king. Midas dove into ecstasy as the eager young servant's tongue danced and capered around his tingling member in a rhythm that was ages old even back then.

Marta suckled and stroked, and tickled and licked until, with a rush, Midas grabbed her by the hair and pulled her mouth away from him. Still holding the king's pleasure firmly in her hand, Marta's mouth formed a small, excited "O" as a single drop of the king's seed dribbled onto the girl's leather glove, changing it immediately into a thin gauntlet of pliant gold. At the sight of Marta's golden glove, the king could no longer contain himself and squirted a trickle of his essence all over the girl's skin-tight costume, changing every inch of the silk into a single, supple covering of finest sparkling metal.

Marta was startled and absolutely amazed by the change in her outfit, the golden fibers of which had already begun to warm from the heat of her body. Midas bid his concubine to be still while he undid his sash, which now glittered with the golden change, and carefully wiped his fluid from himself and the outfit of his concubine, making sure that every bit of Marta's costume had been altered by the new-found magic of his essence. When he was sure that all was in order, the king bid his concubine to stand up and model her transformed outfit.

Midas could feel his excitement grow as Marta adjusted to the newfound heaviness of her garment and turned in a catlike dance before him, encased in a shimmering suit of precious metal trapped and tucked beneath glowing gloves. Every curve and indentation of her figure was caressed by the new gold skin, and the king's eyes lingered over his own flushed and golden reflection, distorted by the ebb and flow of Marta's fluid body. By the time Midas had reached the hard, little bumps that his concubine's nipples had made under the glistening surface beneath his fingertips, he was very excited indeed.

Now, as it so happened, Marta was a simple girl who had been taught from an early age that her whole life should be devoted to pleasing her master. Perhaps, if she had taken a moment of beneficial reflection, the story of King Midas might have turned out differently. But, things being what they were, when Marta saw the look of desire upon her king's face, she did not hesitate to get down upon her gilded knees and take his sex between her golden hands, awakening the memory of passion that bubbled just beneath the surface of her master's body. For his own part, Midas had grown delirious with pleasure and rubbed his fingertips all over the glistening, smooth shoulders of his concubine as she tended to his balls and rock-hard member with her tongue, moving back and forth over the king's scrotum and organs with quick little licks. Skilled as she was in the ways of pleasure, Marta waited until just the right moment and took her master's balls into her mouth, sucking them both deeply, one after the other, as she stroked her king's sex with one shiny, gloved hand.

Again, Midas felt himself erupt with pleasure and, as he looked down upon his beloved Marta, he felt the warm mouth wrapped firmly around his scrotum grow cold. Instead of supple flesh, the king found his hands wrapped around the upturned face of a perfect, metal statue that had once been his favorite concubine. As the king watched his essence trickle down Marta's golden cheek, he realized that his long-held fantasy had finally come true.

At this point in the story, it would be something of a lie to say that this turn of events bothered King Midas overly at first. You see, the king of Phyrgia not only had a reputation for lavish and decadent banquets, but he was renowned as something of a despot as well. Midas had foreseen something like this might happen when he made his wish and, since there never seemed to be any shortage of women in his harem, the fact that Marta, who had once been a breathing and beautiful girl, was now a golden statue bothered the king slightly less than it probably should have. As a matter of fact, the idea of dozens of golden statues, created by the peak of his pleasure and scattered about the palace, held a definite appeal for the king.

No, Midas wasn't really bothered much at all by the sudden turn events had taken, at least not until he realized that his balls were now firmly trapped in the mouth of his golden concubine.

At first, Midas resisted the urge to panic. After all, he reasoned, if he merely relaxed he might just be able to pull himself free.

It only took several painful minutes of twisting and tugging for the king to realize that this approach needed rethinking.

There Midas stood, the monarch of Phrygia, half naked with his testicles trapped in a beautiful mass of gold that was so heavy that he could barely budge it.

Midas shrieked for his guards, and when they entered, their eyes wide and their mouths gaping, he made a mental note of the snickering ones, and then he sent them to fetch Heroditus. In a matter of moments, the lean advisor (who silently thanked the gods that the guards had told him what to expect, lest he laugh himself right into the lion pits) stood before the embarrassed king. After several minutes of pressing and prodding about the king's trapped scrotum, Heroditus decided that several heads were better than one, and he sent out the palace guards to round up the wisest minds of the kingdom. And to the chagrin of Midas, soon the entire bedchamber was filled with summoned scholars, philosophers, and alchemists.

Suggestions on freeing the king were numerous, and some of them were ludicrous. Almost everything was tried: potions and lotions, pry bars and pulleys, unguents and ointments, and still more pulling and tugging of course. Finally, Midas, his balls bleeding and battered, ordered his men to comb the forests, find Silenus, and bring the satyr back to undo the magic of the golden wish.

After one long and miserable night for the trapped king, Silenus (still quite drunk from yet another bacchanal and rather perturbed that he had been roused by the king's men from the arms of what was possibly one of the forest's finest nymphs) finally arrived in the monarch's bedchamber. After laughing himself into a fit for several moments at the sight of his friend's predicament, the tipsy satyr called for the king's advisor and told him that what was needed was a pitcher of water procured from the cold waters of the river Pactolus.

Heroditus wasted no time in sending the swiftest runners to bring back a jug of the river water. When the pitcher finally arrived, Silenus recited a short prayer to Bacchis and then poured the liquid in a frigid waterfall over the head of the hapless king and the kneeling, golden Marta. Midas gulped down a cry as the cold water struck him in the face, but within moments the shower had worked its magic, and he was able to free himself from the mouth of his, once again, flesh and blood concubine who awoke to life startled at how half the kingdom had suddenly managed to interrupt her and her king in his bed chamber.

And there you have the gist of King Midas and the Golden Touch.

All in all, I suppose things worked out well enough in the end. Marta returned to her status as the king's favorite concubine, and the nature of Selinus' magic was such that she was still able to keep her outfit of pure gold. Midas lost the power his wish had given him, but his battered scrotum eventually healed, although I can't really say for certain that the king grew any wiser from his experience with the "golden touch" however.

In fact, that reminds me of another tale you may have heard...the one where the gods cursed Midas by giving him the ears of an ass. Only, it wasn't really the ears of an ass the king was cursed with...