So many things happened next that I barely know where to start.
Hands were clapped over the ears of the younger campers. Chiron dropped his fork into his salad. About fifty different voices were shouting. Travis Stoll gave me a thumbs up.
Chiron looked at Mr. D. and said something. The god laughed. I could read his lips for what he said back: What do you want me to do? But the disappointed look Chiron gave him lasted so long that the god finally sighed.
One snap of his pudgy fingers later, the entire pavilion went silent. Mouths were still moving, but the sound was gone. Grape vines grew over everyone's laps like seatbelts.
"As entertaining as all this has been," Mr. D. said, "I suppose Chiron is right that it was getting a bit loud. Since I am well aware how bad children can be at shutting up, I've graciously decided to do it for you."
Chiron nudged his shoulder, and the god gave another, longer sigh. "Very well. Could the relevant parties please report to the Big House?"
The vine on my lap slithered off like a snake. The same thing happened with Annabeth and a few of the councilors. All of us stood up uncertainly.
"And, for the love of Olympus, could someone bring Claire with them," Mr. D. said. He leaned back in his seat, glancing at Chiron. "Is that quite everything?"
When Chiron said nothing, he grinned.
"As far as interruptions go, that one was at least entertaining," he said. "I have the strangest suspicion that it isn't over yet, either."
Ten minutes later Annabeth, Chiron, Mr. D and I stood in the Big House. Clarisse lay across the ping pong table, out cold and not looking any less sick. Nyssa Barrera, the Hephaestus counselor, had carried the Ares girl there, before quickly excusing herself. If I could've left I would've followed her. Something really strange was going on.
"Did anything happen, Percy?" Chiron asked. "Anything at all?"
"She's been weird all day," I said. "She cornered me by the lake. Said she wanted to pound me. I thought that meant hit me, but… I mean…"
"It could have had a different meaning," Chiron summarized.
The door opened and two more counselors stepped in. One was Will Solace. The Apollo counselor was the closest thing the camp had to a doctor. The other was more unusual. The pale dark-haired girl was named Lou Ellen, I thought. Counselor of the Hecate Cabin.
While Lou Ellen hung back, Will marched straight to Clarisse's side.
He muttered hymns under his breath as he felt her pulse and checked the warmth of her skin. After a while it looked like he was prodding her just for the sake of it. But when he turned to us, his face was grim.
"She's not healthy," he said. "Really far from it. Her pulse is faint. It's like something's eating her from the inside out."
"Poison?" I asked.
"Not any I've ever seen," Will said. "Unless there are poison's out there with Nymphomania as a side effect while they kill you."
Clarisse moaned. She moved slightly, but it looked more like writhing in pain than coming-to. I leaned closer, trying to get a better look at her skin.
Her eyes snapped open. A thick hand snatched my collar, yanking me in. Her tongue was in my mouth before I understood what was happening.
My fist buried in her stomach. Gasping, Clarisse lost her grip. I pulled away. The second I was gone, she was comatose again.
"Percy," Annabeth said disapprovingly. Her face said she was as shocked as I was, though.
"Sorry!" I said. "I didn't mean to punch the patient, I swear. It was just a reflex. What in Hades was that?"
Will leaned in the exact way I had. Nothing. Clarisse didn't twitch.
"Strange," Will said.
"Were you hoping she'd give you the same treatment?" Mr. D asked.
"Of course not," Will said, not even pausing his investigation. "Why would I?"
"Oh, right. It's you." Apparently annoyed that his attempt to stir chaos had failed, Mr D. returned to paying the rest of us no attention. A wine tasting catalog had been in his hands since he entered the room. From the look on his face, you'd think it was a Playboy issue.
"I can see the problem," a voice said.
All eyes turned to Lou Ellen. The daughter of Hecate hadn't left her spot by the door, but her eyes were fixed on Clarisse.
"She's been cursed," the counselor said.
"Cursed?" I said.
"Yes." She paused, then seemed to realize the rest of us were waiting for more. "Oh! I don't mean it was something specific to her. I just mean there's magic on her. She reeks of it." She looked up, meeting my eyes. "And you do, too."
"Me?" I pointed at my chest.
Lou Ellen nodded. "It's the same magic, too. Or at least related. Something is connecting the two of you, and the weaker the connection gets, the weaker Clarisse does."
"You can tell all that just from looking?" Annabeth asked.
"Whoever did this doesn't care who notices, so yeah," Lou Ellen said. "In fact, it's almost like they wanted people to notice. More than anything."
"Can you fix it?" Chiron asked.
"Oh, gods no. I think even Mom would struggle to do that. But… I might know a way to keep her from getting worse."
"What is it?" Chiron asked urgently.
Lou Ellen blushed. She looked away from Clarisse, fixing her eyes on the floor.
"For a spell like this," she said, "it's like it's screaming 'Look at me!' The only reason someone does that is if they want people to notice, meaning they want them to do something specific. The curse is just a way of forcing people into whatever that is. So, in these sorts of situations, it's common for the magic itself to give clues. Either in the effects, or the behavior, or—"
"You're babbling," Annabeth said gently. "Focus, Lou."
"Right." Lou Ellen blushed harder. "It's just, well…"
"What the girl is stumbling prepubescently to say, is that Clarissa here already told us the key to healing her," Mr. D said.
"And what would that be?" Chiron asked cautiously.
Mr. D looked up from his magazine with a positively sinister smirk.
"Why," he said, "none other than Peter Johnson here's Johnson."
Chiron ushered out Lou and Will not long later, after getting them to promise to keep quiet. I thought he might be wasting his time, because Mr. D seemed ready to blab to anyone who asked. He saw the whole situation as one really funny joke.
I didn't say anything. I was still pretty much in shock. I'd known Clarisse for years. I thought life had finally calmed down. And then suddenly she was cursed, and the only way of saving her life was to sleep with her.
We moved the conversation to the front porch, just Annabeth Chiron and I.
"What do you think?" Annabeth asked our mentor.
"I'm not very well-learned in magic," Chiron said. "Certainly not as much as Lou Ellen, or even our director. But I must confess, the signs I see do not fill me with hope that Mr. D is incorrect."
"I agree," Annabeth said. "That's what bothers me."
"But… why?" I said. "I mean, what could anybody get out of this? Why would they want me to sleep with Clarisse?"
Chiron frowned. He was in full horse form, tail swishing nervously.
"Unfortunately, it could be many things," he said. "Perhaps someone bears you ill-will. Forcing you to sleep with someone could be a way of harassing you. Or it could be much simpler. Like our dear director, they may simply find this funny."
"Bastards," I growled. My balled fist drifted toward the pocket that held Anaklusmos. But this time, there was no one to stab.
"Bastards indeed," Chiron agreed.
We went silent. It was a pretty evening, the sun setting on the waves way off on the horizon. That didn't improve my mood.
"Do it."
We both turned to Annabeth.
"You sure?" I asked.
She scowled, but even as we watched it morphed into a reluctant smile.
"I'm not happy about this," she said. "Of course not. But you aren't either, and we owe Clarisse too much to risk her life over something like this. We need to try. It's worth it."
I opened my mouth, but words didn't come. So I gave her a nod. That was enough between the two of us.
As I turned back toward the door, Chiron said, "Good luck."
I gave him a forced smile. "C'mon, it's not like I'm going to war here."
I gripped the handle and pulled it open, stepping into the foyer.
"Not going to war," I repeated to myself. "But I almost wish I was."
When I got back to the meeting room, I barely recognized it.
Clarisse was still in the middle, but instead of being laid across a pingpong table she was in the middle of a queen-sized bed. Purple curtains and drapes covered the walls, and lush cushions shaped like grapes sat scattered over the ground. Grape vines hung from the ceiling in the shape of letters.
TUCK IN
"I swear, one day I'm going to stab him," I said. "The last time I stabbed an Olympian it worked out. I could pull it off again."
Clarisse whimpered and shifted on the bed. Her perch had been upgraded, but she was only getting worse. I couldn't keep stalling.
I'd seen Clarisse so many times, but approaching her then felt like the first time I'd looked at her. Since my eighteenth birthday I'd hit six-three. Clarisse was only an inch shorter than me. Everything about her was big— broad arms, wide muscular thighs, and, most notably now, her chest. Her breasts completely filled her sports bra, big enough I'd struggle to grip one in a single hand. Her jaw was sharp and wide. She wouldn't be beating any Aphrodite kids in a beauty pageant, but nobody would call her ugly.
I put my knees on the bed, leaning over her.
"Uh… Clarisse?" I asked.
No response. I reached out and poked her arm.
"Clarisse? Clar—"
She moved quicker than the Minotaur spotting a red cape. There wasn't any warning. There was no time to react. And this time, she didn't just kiss me.
Wrapping her arms around me, she barrel-rolled us straight off the bed. We landed on the floor, her on top.
"No getting away this time," she growled. "Absolutely, definitely, no more running for you."
Just like when she kissed me, it was as if proximity burned away all the symptoms keeping her sick. She looked manic and perfectly healthy— I'd know, because her face was less than an inch from mine. She had surprisingly sweet breath. Like cinnamon.
"I'm not trying to get away," I told her.
She smashed her mouth onto mine.
I guess it was a kiss, but I've never felt one like this. Her tongue invaded my mouth, claiming every nook and cranny. It dueled mine, pushing it back and forth. One of her hands barged under me, squeezing my ass and sliding up and down my back.
After a few rounds of tongue wars, she jerked back. She pulled my shirt off over my head, and I let it happen. Then she reached back and unclasped her bra.
The fabric fell away, revealing breasts three times the size of Annabeth's. They bounced as gravity reasserted its hold, her dark nipples hanging low.
"Suck," she commanded.
I'm not one for taking orders, but some offers are too good to refuse.
She grunted as I bit first the right one, then the left. She'd shown how she wanted this to go. I bit hard, leaving deep purple marks. She rocked slightly, sitting above my crotch, and I felt my pants tighten.
"That's— ahn! That's it," she growled out as I worked. "Finally a — ah! — good use for that mouth of yours!"
I bit harder.
I could feel her nipples stiffening. Then she pulled off of me, crawling back.
In two deft movements she unbuttoned my pants and yanked them down, underwear and all. My erect cock bobbed up with the motion. She stepped out of her own pants, leaving only her panties. Her breasts bounced with every movement— doubly so when she pounced on me, starting another round of tongue wars.
This time, though, nothing was holding back my cock. Standing up straight, it was trapped between her muscular thighs. I could feel the tip rubbing against the coarse fabric of her panties as her muscular legs crushed together, like a fleshlight crossed with a trash compactor. Every movement, down to the slightest twitch, made my stiff length shudder.
The more aroused she got, the more force she applied. Her breasts were smashed flat, engulfing my chest, and I felt her stiff nipples dragging against my pecs. I broke the kiss first, jerking away as the pressure on my cock became too much to take.
Clarisse didn't stop. She attacked my neck like she'd forgotten she wasn't an Empousa. Her teeth dug in in a way I knew would leave a mark. I was sure she'd drawn blood.
"Yes!" she shouted, pulling back. A trail of saliva ran off her lower lip, stretching down to my neck. "More. More!"
She didn't even take off her panties, just slid them to the side of her slit and slammed down.
I groaned. Her thighs had already pushed me, and I worried for a second that I would cum straight away. I just managed to force the urge down. Not with Clarisse. She'd never let me live it down.
Her ass slapped down like artillery. Somehow, even her pussy was strong. It was like she was gripping and letting go on command, trying to wring me dry.
"You like this?" she asked, a flushed smile on her face. "You like being ridden like a pegasus? Like a barnyard animal?"
"What are you getting up to at the stables?" I gasped out.
Her hand slammed down over my mouth.
"No," she said. "No more wisecracks. I don't need your mouth, I finally found a good use for you. A dildo! My own durable, massive dildo!"
I frowned, but she couldn't see it under her hand. She got even tighter.
"Yes!" she shouted. "Yes! Lie there and take it, Jackson!"
Her other hand, came down, wrapping around my throat. Her movements got wilder. She slammed down, and I felt a rush of fluid and caught the moan of her first orgasm.
Her hips slowed and started to stop. She was panting with an exhilarated, flushed expression on her face. But her hands were still around my throat and over my mouth, and their grip wasn't weakening.
"You look good this way," she said. "Stay like that, and we'll start round two in a second."
I reached up, grabbing her wrists. She didn't seem to think much of it until I pulled both her hands up. Her eyes widened, and she struggled to push them down, but it was no use. She couldn't make me budge.
I sat up, and she fell back as I did, her head landing against one of the grape cushions. Kneeling above her still holding her wrists, her tree-trunk legs were suddenly pointed straight up in the air.
"If we're going to do this, we're going to do it right," I said. "Round two starts now."