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She stood there rooted to a rock, in her unutterable misery hating and destroying everything that came within her reach ...

_--Edith Hamilton,_Mythology

Hasa Diga Eebowai

--Trey Parker, Matt Stone, Robert Lopez, The Book of Mormon

Gods can be pervy.

The thought was recurrent in Scylla's mind over the past several days. Ever since her encounter with the fish-man-person, Scylla had been having something of a crisis of faith.

The gods wanted her to bathe, so she bathed. There were certainly far worse things the gods could have wanted her to do. Bathing was simple. You sat in a pool, you ran water over your hair, you repeated the motion. Scylla had heard one of her sister nymphs whispering about a man who had been cursed by the gods and brainwashed into slaying his wife and child, and then had to work off a debt to the gods as if they were doing him a favor. This seemed rather horrible to Scylla, but she knew better than to broach the subject of misotheism. Any of the gods could be listening, and any of the gods could visit any number of maladies upon one such as she.

Bathing was almost assuredly preferable to filicide. Sit. Water. Repeat. Much, much better to simply bathe.

Scylla leaned forward, elevating herself slightly from the rock upon which she sat, enjoying the feel of the soft skin of her breasts lightly touching her knees. Her feet were ... itchy? Is that what the mortals called the sensation? A rather uncouth word for a rather uncouth people. Scylla had never itched before. She had never seen a reason to, really. Still, she had to admit the sensation of her pearl-white nails scratching the tops of her dainty feet was not altogether loathsome.

The nymph sighed and sat upright once again, casting her gaze upon all of Poseidon's vast domain. The gods might not have fashioned the world, but they certainly perfected it. The waves in the distance roiled in thunderous abandon, only to calmly caress her calves once they reached her perfect bathing place, like a snarling hound that becomes an adoring puppy once it recognizes its master. The froth bubbled around her, caressing her in ways no lover could ever hope to match.

That was a peculiar thought, but one to whom she knew to blame. What had he said his name was? Glocko? Glowcow? It didn't matter. Whatever his name, he was the same as all the other men she had ever had the misfortune of glancing upon. He expressed his untold adoration, declared that his love for her was as deep as the sea, blah blah blah. Why were the human males always so eager to profess their undying affection? Why did they always swear their love was pure and unending? A virtue the likes of which had never been seen on Zeus's green earth. Wasn't that what he had said?

The same droll fawning her kind had always been cursed to hear. Never-ending devotion was certainly in ample supply from the humans, and Glowcow was certainly not special in that regard.

Still, there was something rather unusual about the man, if man he was. He had claimed to be a god, but a god unlike any she had ever heard of. From the waist up, he was just another hairy, stinking man-ape. His beard was long and neatly trimmed. His arms were muscular, probably from swimming in Poseidon's domain for days at a time. Scylla rather liked that bit, even if the rest was atrocious.

The rest she could very much done without. Especially what lay beneath the god-man's waist. Scylla had heard her sisters giggle as they described what hung between a human male's legs. The description caused Scylla to recoil in revulsion, but for some reason had also filled her with a flush she could not begin, or want to begin, to understand. Scylla had felt rather naughty as she glanced at the man's nethers, hoping just a bit to see what her sisters had spoken of. Fortunately--or unfortunately, Scylla wickedly thought--she hadn't had the opportunity to indulge her curiosity regarding that particular part of the male anatomy. Instead, her attention was drawn further down his waist, where the creature's skin faded smoothly into the green scales of one of Poseidon's servants, a long fish's tail lazing about like a cat's, emerald scales twinkling in the light.

Man above, fish below? Scylla had heard of such a creature, but seeing one herself had caught her rather off guard. She had begun to run away from the strange creature, whispering her thanks to Poseidon that she had been fashioned in a form that allowed her to easily outrun her sea-dwelling suitor.

Scylla smiled abashedly as she gently bit the tip of her thumb. If he had been a normal man, he may have been able to catch her. Perhaps in his need for her touch he mightn't have paid close enough attention to the rocky terrain. Perhaps he might have slipped just as he caught her by the wrist, sending them both tumbling to the smooth rocks encircling her secret bathing place. She would struggle and moan as she tried to shove her captor away, pressing her soft hands against his hard chest, inadvertently feeling the throbbing of his heartbeat as he panted above her. Perhaps--Scylla giggled aloud at the perverse thoughts she was entertaining--he would look deep into her eyes and she into his, both of them finding something in the other they had always hoped for but never thought they would ever find. Scylla absentmindedly brought her legs together and began to rub them against one another. Perhaps he would lean his head forward, bringing his mouth so close to her own she could feel his warm breath upon her trembling lips.

The nymph's fantasies were brought to an unwelcome end by an unpleasant errant thought. The man was part fish. Rather disgusting really. How would mating with such a creature even work? Did he even have a ... thing ... down there? Or was it just a smooth patch of scales, perhaps with a cloaca or some other strange orifice used to spread his seed. This was a question better left unanswered. Still, the beast had given her something to gossip to her sisters about, and perhaps had left with her a fantasy or two she could entertain at her leisure.

"Ow!" Scylla realized that she had been scratching at her ankle during her lurid ponderings and had begun to break through her skin. The tiny white scratches upon her delicate skin were almost invisible against her pale white foot, but such a disfigurement was something Scylla had never before witnessed upon her own kind. Peering closer, the nymph noticed flakes of skin had gathered on the outskirts of the blemish. Scylla ran her fingers across the imperfection, but froze in horror when she touched something she was very certain was not supposed to be there.

Scales. Scylla withdrew her hand quickly, as if she had just touched hot iron. As she watched, more of her skin was flaking away, revealing a second lair of dark green scales just beneath her snow-white skin. She shifted her leg, trying to get a better look, only to gasp as the movement caused another rip on her thigh. More of the scales lay just underneath this new tear.

"Oh no. No no no, gods no." Scylla moaned in despair, witnessing the skin along her legs tear in three more places as she rocked back and forth in an attempt to console herself. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she expected to feel more of her skin sloughing away around her torso. Instead, she only felt several sharp pinpricks of pain where were fingers had raked against her skin. Scylla brought her hands up and let loose a scream when she saw her pearlescent nails were growing longer and sharper. They began to take on a blackened hue as they grew until they were longer than the length of her fingers.

"No! Dear Poseidon, please make this stop! Please make this stop!" Scylla could now see the skin of her legs had almost entirely sloughed away. What's more, her feet now tapered to a point, her toes completely absorbed into the rest of her legs. Her legs began to lose all definition as she felt her bones begin to soften, allowing them to curl about like some sort of wretched serpent. They grew longer, stretching until they reached the crashing waves a dozen spans away. Scylla curled the now writhing appendages closer to her body, marveling that she could still control them at all. Bringing them to her face, she screamed in horror as she saw another face staring back at her, its horrible visage becoming more defined with every passing moment until she was soon staring into--and out of--two serpentine eyes. Soon the space once reserved for each of her delicate feet was replaced by the horrid face of a serpent. Scylla began thrashing against the cold rocks as pain enveloped the area just above her rear and groin.

Scylla prodded the soft skin below her waist, carefully not to injure herself with her nails, which now resembled the talons of a harpy. She could see that above her sex several new protrusions were beginning to form, and from the pain around her lower back she could tell they were forming behind her as well. They began to grow longer until they started to resemble the writhing serpents that had been Scylla's legs minutes before. "NooooAAAAGHH!" Scylla screamed in agony from three separate mouths as she turned herself onto her belly and attempted to push herself up. "I have to ... I have to ... Have to AAAAAAGGH!!!" Scylla's original mouth erupted in a wave of new pain as she felt her teeth begin to lengthen, her original canines pushing forth until they resembled the fangs of a viper. Her mind threatened to dip into insanity as one by one new eyes opened at the ends of her new appendages until she was staring in horror through twenty pairs of reptilian eyes. She plead for forgiveness from the gods as she witnessed her further changes from every angle imaginable. Scylla saw course black hairs beginning to push forth from the back of her arms, even as they began to swell with hardened muscle. Now able to support herself easily upon one arm, Scylla watched in horror as the skin along her arms was soon enveloped in the black fur of some sort of beast.

"Gods above, please, what's happening to me?" Tears fell from Scylla's eyes for the first time in her life as she felt the disgusting fur spread from her mound, trailing upwards over her naval until it joined a similar growth spreading from in between her breasts. She watched in revulsion as her delicate nipples grew until they resembled the swollen teats of some littering bitch. Scylla screamed in revulsion as she saw eight additional teats now trailed in two rows down her body. The hair spread across her sides until it began to envelop her back. Moments later there was nothing that could be seen of her pale skin; it had been replaced by a shaggy carpet of black fur. Scylla's screams grew louder until her pleas began to resemble a chorus of canine brays and serpentine hisses. Scylla moved one of her serpentine heads closer to her face, weeping as she saw that her eyes had been replaced by the yellow glowing eyes of a beast, although her pupils resembled that of a snake. Scylla's ears began to taper to a point and shifted further up her head until they rested near her temples.

The worst pain of all erupted from her shoulders as her skin began to bubble, large tumors developing in a row encircling her neck. Scylla could only scream and whisper "please" in a piteous plea to whatever god might be listening. She wept in horror, praying to Poseidon below that it would be over soon. The pain only intensified. Her screams faded into silence as she lost even the strength to bemoan her fate. With a horrid tearing sound, the new growths split apart, revealing the most horrible change yet. Her neck had become encircled by a ring of heads, the heads of hounds like the nightmare beast that guarded the gates of Hades. They gnashed and bit at each other, fighting for room as they grew larger than Scylla's original head.

Scylla discovered her voice again, moaning and weeping incoherently for dozens of mouths as she struggled to maintain her sanity amidst the sea of new sensations and the horror that had befallen her. She attempted to drag herself to the edge of her rock, grasping futilely at the wet stone with her horrid talons. Scylla only then realized how truly massive she had become; not just her snakelike limbs, but her original body had grown until she could barely fit upon her stony refuge. Her serpentine limbs soon began to propel herself forth until she reached one still pool amidst the roil of the ocean. The cruel gods had provided a basin of calm water to serve as a mirror, allowing her to bear witness to the creature that she had become. She was a monster in every sense of the word. Whines and hisses greeted Scylla's canine ears as her additional heads joined her in sympathy in a long chorus of woe. Amidst all the horrors that had befallen her, the one that now greeted her was the worst of all.

The change had left her face unblemished. Scylla had retained her beauty. The world would know of her former loveliness even as they recoiled in fear from the sight of her.

Scylla wept and threw herself into the uncaring sea in an attempt to end her own life. The first breath through her new gills revealed to her that she was to be denied even that dignity.

* * *

Odysseus gritted his teeth as he watched the last of his men being devoured by the monster, his wails fading into nothing as he slid down one of the beast's throats. He stared in stony silence, immobile as a statue even as he became surrounded on all sides by the writhing limbs of the monster sailors had called Scylla.

The tales were true, then. Odysseus had hoped the legend of the monster were but stories told by men of the sea, exaggerations meant to steer sailors away from the dangerous rocks of Charybdis. The truth was far worse.

The beast had emerged from the depths as they passed the whirlpool, a score of giant serpents coiling around the hull of his ship. The witch had told Odysseus that the whirlpool was certain death; only by staying close to the rock wall could one pass through Charybdis. Unfortunately, that put his crew in danger of the beast of legend.

Dozens of yellow eyes watched Odysseus as if curious as to what he would do next. The warrior drew his sword in a flash. The serpents hissed as if in disappointment, rearing back to strike him dead where he stood. In the precious seconds before they struck, however, Odysseus thrust his sword into the deck of the ship and threw himself to the ground with an exaggerated sigh. The monster's heads hesitated, unsure of the behavior of this strange man.

Odysseus scratched his shaggy beard and examined a hole in one of the fingertips of his glove. His nonchalance had surprised the beast as he had hoped, but had probably only bought him another few seconds of life. He would likely only have the opportunity to say one thing before he too was sliding down the gullet of a monstrous snake. Odysseus steeled himself and spat out a single word, one mixed with an air of utter boredom and a sneer of command.

"And?"

A few of the serpentine heads cocked to one side as if curious. From dozens of raspy voices came an answer.

"And what?"

The monster was conversing with him. That was ... a good sign?

Odysseus cleared his throat, hoping the beast didn't take it as a sign of nervousness. He wasn't nervous. He wasn't scared. He was just tired. And homesick.

"And what now? Do we have some other business, or is our exchange concluded?"

One of the heads drifted closer to Odysseus until it was within arm's reach. For a brief moment, Odysseus's instincts threatened to arise. He felt the urge to leap to his feet, grasp his sword, and stab the monster's eyes as it presented any sign of weakness. Doing so would be folly, he knew, but a soldier's training was hard to ignore.

"We had an exchange?"

Odysseus once again feigned interest in the hole in his glove. "I was told you devoured one man for every serpentine head you possess."

"You were well informed." The snake seemed almost surprised. "By whom?"

Odysseus wasn't ready to give up his source. The monster now wanted information from him, which meant it wasn't going to devour him until it learned whom it was that had delivered this bit of knowledge. Probably.

He pulled at his glove, inspecting the damage to his accessories while pretending to be oblivious to the damage done to his ship. It had been crushed, and was now barely being held together by the monster that was probably deciding even now which head would have the honor of chewing on Ithacan royalty.

"I was apparently misinformed on the specifics. A clerical error, I'm sure. I was told to expect six heads. Not ..." Odysseus did a quick count to confirm his arithmetic, making a show of it by pointing at each head in turn. "... twenty? Twenty. The six men I posted closest to your abode were the worst of us: slow of sword arm and slower of wit. The rest I was counting on being useful in the days ahead."

The snake arched a scaly brow whilst several other heads drifted closer. Odysseus could feel the heat of its breath upon his back and couldn't help but gag at the scent of man-flesh that arose from its gullet.

"You ... believed I would kill six of your men ... so you placed the weakest of them closest to harm's way? You--"

"Sacrificed them, yes," Odysseus interrupted. "They wouldn't have been missed, not by me at any rate. Perhaps a few of them still have families back home, but I've been told the people of my homeland have thought us dead for nearly twenty years. Most of their wives have probably remarried, and are better off for it."

The serpent's mouth opened in what was possibly an attempt at a grin. "And people say I'm a monster."

"Oh yes, they say that of me as well. That and worse. This isn't even the first time this has happened. Have you ever heard of Polyphemus?" Here Odysseus held a hand over one eye and mimicked poking out the other one.

One by one, the faces of the serpents began to appear impressed. "You are Odysseus? This wretched little thing before me?"

"You've heard of me, then?"

"The gods despise you. Some of them, at any rate. Athena is supposed to dote on you, though if this is her favor then I pity you all the more."

Odysseus saw something there, in its speech. A distaste lingered around the word "gods." He knew then what would be his play.

"I curse the gods. I curse them to whatever hell awaits them, and hope it is tenfold the agony that awaits men in Hades. I curse the ground upon which they tread. I curse the heavens which rest above them. I curse the name of every god that lingers on the lips of every prayer said in vain. I curse the sacrifices offered up before them, to which they are undeserving. I curse them now as I have cursed them with my first breath as a newborn babe, as I shall curse them with my final gasp. I curse them."

Athena forgive me for what I've said, Odysseus thought. He tried to picture the goddess' image, but could only summon the face of his wife.

For several long moments, the heads remained unmoving--perhaps unmoved--by his words. Finally, they hoisted the remains of the ship from the sea, cradling it like a lover. From below the waves parted with a crash as the rest of the monster revealed itself. Upon first seeing the horror, Odysseus had assumed it was some sort of sea-dwelling hydra. The truth was far worse, and far more deserving of his pity than his fear.

Scylla reached toward Odysseus with her paw, careful to avoid skewing the human with her spear-length talons. Without hesitation, Odysseus rose to his feet and stepped onto the monster's open palm. It--she--leaned forward, bringing the man closer to her human face, which dwarfed the man's entire body. Despite the ring of dogs' heads surrounding it, despite the fangs and the foul breath of decaying flesh, the visage that Odysseus beheld before him was strangely beautiful. Which only made the rest of the monster seem more horrible.

With a single, beautiful voice, Scylla said unto Odysseus, "You and I are in agreement on this, little man-thing. Despite my hunger, I am prepared to let you go free, or at least to what freedom is left to a man cast adrift upon Poseidon's seas. But before I see fit to let you go, you will grant unto me two names most certainly known to you."

Odysseus casually nodded to the monster, as if they were negotiating the price of a horse.

"First, you will tell me the name of what it is you love. A man does not bear what you have endured for anything less than the purest love your kind can hold. What is it that keeps you alive where lesser men would have begged for death decades ago?"

All determination, all calm fled from Odysseus face at this question, swiftly replaced by a sadness even Scylla could not have imagined.

Here, Odysseus looked away. "Her name is Penelope, but it is not for her alone that I have journeyed through so much misery. It is for Telemachus, the babe I held in my hands the day I left for Troy, the son who has grown into a man in the long years since I left for war. It is for Argos, the hound that hunted by my side and saved my life on many an occasion."

Odysseus turned his eyes once more upon the beast. "It is for all this that I still draw breath, though all the heavens conspire against me. It is for Ithaca. It is for one more look upon the lands of my father." Tears fell from his eyes as he answered her honestly, without any thought of his own survival, and with a slowly growing malice that gave even the monster Scylla reason to pause. "You ask me for a name? That name is 'home.'"

Scylla brought forth her other paw, attempting to hold this man as gently as she could. "I dreamt of someone like you once. Someone that would carry for me the love I hear echoing in your voice. What was denied me I cannot deny from you."

Odysseus wiped the tears from his eyes. "Thank you. If ever I have the power in my hands to avenge what was done to you--"

"You will not," the monster interrupted.

Odysseus nodded. "Aye. What is the second name you seek, Lady Scylla?"

Her human eyes closed at the sound of her own name. She was accustomed to hearing it shrieked out in terror, but so very unfamiliar was the sound of it being spoken in kindness. When her eyes opened again, all sympathy had fled from them, replaced with hatred's purest fire.

"You know much about me. Far too much to have been learned from the ramblings of some drunken whoreson. You must have learned it from someone I have been wanting to meet for a very long time."

A grin stretched across Odysseus's face. He knew all too well the emotion that was emerging like the heat of a furnace from the monster before him. It consumed her as it had consumed him for so long. That most horrible, most satisfying of emotions that could lead a person to commit any act, no matter how heinous, in pursuit of a singular goal. Revenge.

"This is true," he answered.

The Ithacan found himself the subject of the eyes of a score of serpents, six growling hounds, and one cruel and piteous maiden.

"Who ... did this ... to me?"

Odysseus gave a toothy smile, one predator grinning at another, and answered her with the name she had sought for so long.

* * *

Glaucus lounged amongst splendor unknown to mortal man.

Well, most of them, at any rate. Circe had recently hosted a large contingent of soldiers from some such hovel. What was the name? Icky? Itchy? Something along those lines. They had been returning from one of the wars the mortals were always having. Zeus only knows what this one was about. Someone stole another one's pig? Or perhaps fucked it? Wasn't that what they usually about? Who could keep track of it all?

Godhood had a habit of trivializing most matters. Since Glaucus had undergone his deification he found little reason to keep up with events taking place on Gaia. Poseidon's realm was far more interesting. After all, he was a part of it. But the Itchy-Cans had made themselves presumptuous guests upon their host's island paradise. Feasting, fucking, and frivolity. That was what the mortals typically resorted to when left without a reason to slaughter one another. Circe was quite right in transforming the lot of them into swine. Glaucus would have simply fed them to a kraken, but he couldn't deny there was a sort of poetic justice in the sorceress's particular brand of punishment. Fetishistic, certainly, but a goddess is certainly entitled to her eccentricities.

Circe had ... always had a thing for Glaucus. Not that he could blame her, the poor dear. Any strong male was intriguing to her. Glaucus supposed that when one's opinion of most mortal men was that they should be immediately transmogrified into livestock, the appearance of a man great enough to elevate himself above such a station in Circe's eyes was a man worthy of the adoration of a goddess. The Itchy leader, Odie-something, was one such man. Circe had turned countless men into animals over the years without so much as a second thought, but a few honeyed words from Odie and she swoons herself into changing them back and letting them all go.

Women. They are pretty much all the same, immortal or otherwise.

Glaucus didn't bother to stifle his yawn. Boredom had finally driven him from his repast. He slid from the satin pillows that had been his resting place for the past few days into the cool waters of Circe's private bathhouse. Circe watched him as he moved, admiring the way Glaucus dipped into the pool with the strength of man and the grace of mer. The tail. Women always loved the tail.

"Where do you journey to, my love?"

The merman put on his most charming smile, the one reserved for leaving a lover behind whilst still leaving the door open for any future tryst. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy Circe's affections, but there were so many other romantic conquests he could be making at this very moment.

"My dear, it is time for me to take my leave."

Circe gave an exaggerated pout. Was she genuinely affronted at his departure, or was she merely attempting to make him think she was in order to work him into one of her schemes? It was always hard to tell with her.

"But you've only just arrived!" Circe stretched the last word into a cute whine. "I thought we might become further reacquainted over the next few decades."

The game was getting old. Always the same thing. Glaucus had acquired what he wanted from between Circe's thighs. Now he would have to pretend to bemoan having to leave her in just the right way. Too much and she would see through his deception. Too little and she would be angry and probably never want to see him again. Which at this very moment wouldn't be too much of a problem, but Glaucus felt that at some point he would probably want to bed her again. Probably. The merman prepared a response, but was interrupted as a large shade was suddenly cast over the pavilion.

It's amazing how quietly a monster the size of a small mountain can creep up on you.

The shadow of the beast was the first giveaway that something was amiss. Glaucus and his plaything turned their heads slowly, afraid of what they would find. Taking in the full measure of the horror before them left both of them fumbling for words.

Circe was the first to break the silence. "Oh. Right. Her."

Glaucus glanced momentarily away from the monster towards the temptress. "H-Her ...?"

"The, uh ... siren? Nymph? Whatever."

Glaucus' eyes became twin orbs, perfect spheres that rivaled most celestial bodies in size. "Oh. Right. Her."

Circe edged away from the creature even as it leaned several serpentine heads closer to the pair, coming enough to allow them to smell the beast's fetid breath. Seeing his companion attempting to sneak away caused Glaucus to feel a small tinge of bravery, a peculiar emotion he had normally never found much use for.

"H-Hello, dear ... uh ..." Oh Hades below, what was her name?

"Scylla," answered the monster, a bemused grin on what Glaucus supposed was her "main" face, the visage of the beautiful maiden with the leer of a wolf..

"Scylla!" Glaucus was ecstatic that the monster had volunteered this information. Maybe he could talk himself out of this yet.

"You can't talk yourself out of this," the beast replied.

Oh.

"S-Scylla, I must say, t-this is a form that is quite ... uh ..."

The creature arched a gigantic eyebrow, a primal smirk playing across its black lips. "Yes?"

An idea suddenly sprang to life. "Fitting! Fitting of a god, really! A form to rival Poseidon himself. A marvel as magnificent as the vast ocean itself. Don't you see?"

Glaucus hoped that Poseidon wasn't listening. He didn't need another problem on his hands. What next? Perhaps an appeal to the creature's former love that it held for him? Glaucus paused. Did it once love him? Or was it the other way around?

"We are now both perfect in form," he continued. "My lovely Scylla, together we could rule over all the seas of the world as its new emperor and empress. With you by my side, even the gods couldn't stand against us! What say you, my dear?"

Scylla's reply wasn't what Glaucus had hoped, as the merman found himself crushed under a serpent's head the size of a frigate. Whatever new flattery Glaucus would produce next would forever remain a mystery as he became a smear of red goo upon Circe's pristine marble tiles.

* * *

Whoever said that revenge was hollow and left the wronged party feeling only emptiness inside had obviously never indulged in the action. After centuries of enduring the horrors of one's own body, finally destroying one of the people that directly caused this affliction left Scylla feeling ecstatic. It was a feeling so wonderful that she attempted to relive the experience by slamming each and every one of her tentacles into the same spot the merman had once occupied, quickly reducing a large portion of the palace to rubble.

"Hmm," Scylla reflected. "Not as good this time around, but still very enjoyable. By the way, you can stop slinking away, bitch. You're next."

Circe fell to her knees as Scylla leaned over her, whispering a prayer to one god or another. It really didn't matter which.

"What's that?" Scylla grinned. "Speak up, friend. Are you also going to attempt some flattery, or would you like to spare the both of us from wasting each other's time and get right to the inevitable 'splat'?"

"I-I-I-I can change you back."

Scylla froze. "What ... did you just say?"

"I can change you back. Probably not completely, but you'd be mostly your old self again."

"You lie."

"No lie! Not long ago I changed a whole troop of pigs to their old forms again."

The Ithacan and his men. After all this time, could Scylla dare to hope for a normal existence once again?

"You can change me back?" Scylla leaned closer to the cowering goddess. "To what I was before?"

"Y-Yes."

Scylla contemplated this for a few moments. She would be smaller, weaker. But to be her old self again ... To walk on two legs, to again dwell amongst her sisters, to have someone look at her without fear and revulsion in their eyes. "If it's a trick, you're a puddle."

Circe nervously bowed her head in agreement.

Scylla closed her eyes, weary from the long centuries of torment. "Do it."

Almost immediately, Scylla felt herself shrinking, her serpentine coils fading away into nothingness as they turned into dust in the wind. It was happening. At long last, it was happening. Scylla couldn't even attempt to hold back the tears as the cursed dogs' heads on her shoulders gave a sharp yelp before they too were gone. She fell to her hands and knees, now closer to her old self in height. She stood and examined herself when at last she felt the changes end.

Something was wrong. Her hands--her whole body--was covered in scales with patches of fur covering her wrists and ankles. She ran her tongue across her teeth, feeling that they were still sharp fangs. A long serpentine tail trailed behind her, swaying back and forth in the sun, although blissful devoid of a face of its own. Talons protruded from the ends of her fingers and toes. Small nipples still trailed down her torso.

"This ..." Scylla grabbed her throat, surprised to find her voice no longer shook the earth. It was the voice she had been born with. "This is ... as close as you could get?"

"Yes."

Scylla caught site of her reflection in a nearby pool. She was still a monster, yes ... but a strangely beautiful one. A mix of woman, hound, and serpent, yes, but one that exuded the feminine grace and allurement she had missed for so very long. She hugged herself and laughed, marveling at the sensation of her feet dancing across the warm marble.

"It will do. Oh gods, it will do."

Scylla opened her eyes just in time to see the slap. She was flung backwards, slamming against one of the ornate columns still standing after her earlier tantrum.

Circe strode toward her, a sharp malice in her eyes. "You little fool. Did you think I would forget what you had done here? Just allow you to leave as if this day had never happened? You destroyed my home! You murdered the man I loved! You have aroused the ire of a goddess, you sniveling little worm."

Scylla scrambled to her feet, only to earn another of the temptress's assaults. She brought a scaly hand to her lips, wiping away a trail of blood with the fur covering her wrist. How could she be so stupid?

The scorned goddess hovered over the prone maiden. "The things I'm going to do to you ... The forms I will make you take ... A slug first? Hmm? Perhaps a worm? Yes, that's a good one. Then I'll feed you to one of my parrots, let you stew in its bile for a few days, and then pull you out and find some other torment. A dung beetle, that'll be a fun one. How would you like to spend the next few centuries crawling around in cow shit? I think that will do for a start."

Scylla attempted to skitter away on her hands and feet, but there was no escape. She cradled the column as if it were a mother's arms, cowering away from what was to come.

Circe raised her hands as a horrible glow enveloped them. "Say goodbye to your vertebrae, bitch."

On reflex, Scylla attempted to lash out with her tentacles, but of course they were gone. But ... not entirely? Scylla could feel her old appendages as if they were still there. The muscle memory had remained with her, and Scylla could feel a part of her moving, a part that both was and wasn't there. In wonder she saw a faint green light streak away from her body in the direction she had wished her tentacles to move, only to disappear before reaching the angry goddess.

In the last moments left to her, Scylla lashed out with all her might, calling upon her former strength. In response, the green glow returned again, this time in the form of a spear of light that hurled towards Circe. The goddess had time for a single groan before she was impaled by the light, which passed entirely through her body before curling back overhead. Scylla could see scales shimmering along the length of the glowing tentacle, and at its tip lay the head of a snarling hound.

At the same time, both women took note of the perfectly circular hole that was left in Circe's torso. The cruel temptress attempted to take one step, only to slump to the ground in an undignified pile. Scylla rose to her feet, glowering down at the source of all of her torment.

"How ... how ...?" Circe's words were slow, mingling with the blood pouring from her lips. "How?"

Scylla smiled for the first time in centuries. "Still something left of the old me, I guess." Scylla raised her hand and soon another tentacle of light appeared overhead, poised and ready to strike at the wounded goddess.

"Not too late," Circe pleaded. "I can give you ... the body ... of a goddess ... Make you beautiful ... beyond anyone's ... wildest dreams."

"That's okay," Scylla replied. "Now I have dog lasers."

A bright flash, a streak of light, and Circe, temptress of men and goddess of Aeaea, was no more. Scylla looked into the distant horizon, watching as the sun sank into the sea. This would be her home now. She would free Circe's slaves and together they would repair the palace and live the rest of their lives free of the bonds of fate and the cruelty of jealous gods.

And thus ends the tale of Circe and Glaucus. And so too begins the tale of Scylla, goddess of the sea and liberator of the cursed.