It’s amazing how something so simple can still be hidden after all these years. Any sailor could have found it if they’d circled around these two islands with their looming rocky spires, skimmed over the hull-breaking reef, and sailed through the gap between them at high-tide into a seemingly impossible, topographically inconsistent stretch of ocean. You find it unlikely that you’re the first to discover it, though perhaps those before you had simply never returned. 

  

You know from ancient, decoded texts and scrolls what lay ahead: lost Atlantis. But between you and there, blocking your path, is a Hydra. No, maybe not “a” Hydra. “The” Hydra. The myth. The legend. He towers above your meagre boat and leers down at you as you stare in bewilderment back up at him. As you approached, he lunged, and your life was only spared by a mysterious binding force, causing the monster to crash up against some unseen barrier mere meters from you. Baring, to your surprise, a gigantic erection. 

   

When Hydra had flailed himself against the mystical wall, a set of arcane runes had flared to life in brilliant colour, the sigils encircling that achingly hard cock. They converged at the base, twisting into a physical manifestation of the creature’s torturous denial in the form of a thick golden ring, glowing with runes of refusal. After his first assault had failed, the poor Hydra stood with his hands against the wall and glared down at you with three massive heads, his massive upper body lifted above the water in a show of raw power. Claws blunted on the invisible shield, he glowered down at you in… what? rage? Maybe that’s what it had been at first, but now? Now only two of his three heads are watching you warily. The other one had curled up in dejection. His body is hunched upwards at the hips, making room for the massive erection that’s been on blatant display. He twitches. He throbs. A gush of what you assume must be pre-cum splatters out onto the barrier and is quickly washed away by the waves lapping against it.  

 

You’ve been locked in a standoff now for what felt like days, and he’s no closer to tearing you apart. He’s also no closer to defeating that cursed “leash” placed around his dick. His desires are clear. One, fulfil his oaths. No one shall reach Atlantis without his permission. Two, destroy anyone who means harm to the Atlanteans below. But three? He’d been bound so long, and he was so hard. Perhaps, some day long in the past when the city still flourished and his masters still lived, there’d been a contract, but the masters that had placed these bindings could hardly have hoped to contain him forever like this.  

 

You rush inside and rummage through your texts, quickly scanning and flicking through books and scrolls for anything useful. Sure, it was all myths and legends, and old dusty tomes in sanskrit or greek that had been a real bitch to translate, but after a few minutes of frantic searching, you think you may have found something that could help. If only you could find a way to communicate.  

 

The three heads whip up to attention when you stand and approach. There’s a growl, or three, of warning. Then you disrobe. You’re hoping that Hydra understands the message. You come to it in peace. You’re hiding no weapons. The growling stops, and you now have the giant beast’s undivided attention. You take a wide-brimmed bowl and lay it in front of you. A flask of fresh water follows it. Compared to the salty brine the beast has been bathed in for its many eons of life, the fresh water smells clean and earthy as you pour it into the bowl. In the water are silvery flakes, held in suspension and glittering. Hydra reacts with curiosity. This is clearly familiar to him. It’s enough of a surprise that he doesn’t bite or snap as you carry the bowl forward until you’re just inches away from the barrier. You hold up the bowl, and the massive beast seems to be weighing his options. The heads confer with each other, and they seem to reach a consensus.  

 

The colossal body heaves itself up against the barrier and bares to you the seal of his torment: the giant, throbbing cock, adorned with the ancient runes that have denied him across ages. You’re not going to pass up the invitation. You dip fingers into the bowl and reach out to drag wet and glittering trails over the nearest runes, inscribed and glowing incandescent across the tapered head. Up above, you hear hissing. At first you worry that perhaps you’ve caused pain, but a moment later the boat-sized shaft throbs, and you’re spattered across your naked front with evidence that your fingers are perhaps the first kindness Hydra’s cock has felt in so very long. Under your fingers, the runes flicker, then fade. You scoop more of the sparkling silver-water up onto the shaft, following the swirling runes down over ridges and veins. As you work, Hydra’s arousal grows more and more desperate, until you can feel him throbbing uncontrollably. You find round, fleshy nubs along the underside of his ridges, and he responds by adorning you with more of his liquid approval while you wipe the ancient runes away. Your hands round the massive gold ring near the base, where the quickly disappearing runes are at their brightest.  

 

You realize at this point that you’ve crossed the barrier. His three heads are staring down at you, and with a sinking dread in your stomach, you know that you’re entirely at his mercy. But dangerous as he may be, he’s smart enough not to harm you. A favor has earned a favor. There’s not much of the silvered water left in your bowl, so you splash the last of it against the golden ring and the last of the runes fade. There’s a sonorous ring of metal cracking, like a tuning fork resonating far past its breaking point. The last of the atlantean runes that encircle Hydra’s cock ring fade as it begins to ripple and crack. It shatters in your hands and falls heavily to the deck, finally allowing the thick ridges of Hydra’s cock to flare wide under your fingers. There’s a ululating cry above you as the spell is broken and Hydra is freed.  

 

No further stimulation is necessary. The legendary beast has been waiting so many years for this release that his peak is sudden and undeniable. He pulses beneath your fingers as you place the bowl down and grasp around his girth. You can feel the channel that runs the length of his shaft engorge as it fills with cum, traveling from knotted base all the way to his tapered tip, before he explodes.  

 

The first jet is gushing—so strong that it sprays off into the distant sea. You had a few wayward fingers in the way, and your whole arm is wet with the slippery cum in just seconds. His first juddering squirt is followed so closely that the fire-hose spray hadn’t waned by much before the next throbbing pulse of cum. Above you, the titanic Hydra moves backwards, and you feel the cock in your arms withdraw. As the second gush splatters your boat, he aims downwards, and you find yourself directly in the way. The third squirt lifts you bodily from your feet. A scaled hand catches you as he douses you with his peak. Your naked body drips from head to toe with his release. In front of you, the tapered tip throbs upwards, and the slit at the very end parts to catch your neck and face with the next spray.  

 

How long did you spend in his paw being anointed in his first peak in centuries? You imagine it must be minutes. You stopped counting and focused on finding moments to breathe in between the gushing. Then, with care, the gargantuan reptile lowers you to your boat. He gazes at you again. What is that, now? Thanks? Respect? Relief? Whatever it is, the guardian’s centuries-long chore is complete. One by one, the heads turn away from you. No longer caged, he ducks under the water and swims away. Towering heads crest over the waves but never once look back. What you do now is no longer his concern.  

 

Dripping with Hydra cum and approaching the wave-strewn ruins of the ancient city’s doorstep, you gather the shards of the ring, now dulled but still etched with the runes that had bound that legendary creature for so long, a memento of sorts that you might never forget your chance encounter. The waters now were crystal clear and still, save for the lingering opaque clouds of cum, showing the true scale and majesty of the lost city now sprawling underneath you; your reward. lost Atlantis.