Dating a gorgon has its pros and cons. Getting turned to stone now and again - either through your partner’s carelessness, through them pranking you, or because they have a huge objectification kink - can go in either column, depending on whether you have a huge objectification kink (and twelve spare hours to indulge in it). Like most mythics, they’re immune to pretty much all illnesses, and are very physically durable, so they’re rarely injured - which are a couple of weights off your mind.

And the prehensile hair is a definite plus, each strand equipped with its own hungry mouth and delicate tongue... (I expect you can see where that particular train of thought is headed.)

Although, now that I mention the hair, and specifically its mouths, I should address something else. Yes, a gorgon’s hair is basically snakes. Not real snakes, though - not living creatures that just happen to be attached to another being’s head. No, they’re all part of her, and she feels them like she feels her fingers and her toes. And she can control them, and move and manipulate them, as she chooses.

So when you’re reading a book on the couch with your gorgon girlfriend snuggled up next to you watching television, her arms wrapped around your waist, and you’re all nice and comfy and cosy... and then you feel a sudden, sharp nip on your upper arm - don’t let her get away with pretending her hair bit you of its own accord. Nope, it’s all her.

“Ow!” I squeaked, flinching away from the stinging pinch. “Hey!”

“What?” Kyra murmured, the picture of innocence, her gaze barely drifting away from the TV screen.

I pouted resentfully at her, but decided to let it go. One bite wasn’t a big deal.

Of course, she can never stop at just one. Just as I’d settled back down and gotten comfortable again, I felt another sharp peck, this one on the back of my shoulder blade. “Sto-ooop,” I whined, slapping at the offending appendage lightly (and ineffectually, since it’d already darted away).

“Wha-aaaat?” she replied, mimicking my tone, giving me a glance of sincere confusion and concern - impressively sincere, since I knew it was fake.

I gave her a sulky look. “You know what. Lemme read my book, for the Gods’ sa-ake...!”

My words were interrupted by another bite, this one on the back of my neck, making me jolt hard in my seat. “Kyraaa!”

“I’m not doing anything! I can’t control them!” she pleaded - and again, her tone would be incredibly convincing if I didn’t know for sure she was lying.

“So full o’ shit,” I giggled exasperatedly, pointedly adjusting my position and sitting back firmly in her arms - as if to say, with my body language, that I was done being messed with.

Of course, my gorgon girlfriend was only just getting started messing with me. And given that I’d stayed in her embrace on the sofa, and the only defences I’d put up were an indignant expression and tone of voice, it wasn’t long before she renewed the attack.

As her chin came to rest on my shoulder, her agile tendrils reached out and circled around the back of my neck. My eyes wavered on the words I was reading, and I drew in a breath of anticipation - a second before I felt wicked little fangs start scratching at me from all directions.

“Ah-aah! N-nooo, fu-uck... G-get - ah-ahh...! Ah, nngh - K-Ky...”

She pulled me into a tight cuddle, her arms pinning mine to my sides as I struggled helplessly, my head flailing around as she delivered bite after bite to my slender neck, the soft skin of my jaw and cheeks, my shoulders and my collarbone - basically every exposed inch of flesh from my face down to the top edge of my shirt. Though I continued feebly fighting her grasp, the sharp, incisive jabs were setting my body aflame, the sensations sending quivers of pleasure through me that rippled down to my increasingly wet sex.

That would’ve been enough by itself - a little death by a thousand bites. But, a reminder: gorgon hair isn’t just a bunch of tentacles with mouths. It’s snakes. And snakes are often venomous.

Now, forgive me for putting on my mythobiologist hat again - especially in the middle of the sexy - but the venom of the modern gorgon isn’t lethal. Like the permanence of their petrifying vision, the killer venom got lost through generations of breeding with humans. It’s not too potent these days. One or two bites have basically no effect, and you can go on with your day as normal. Four or five, and you might start to feel a little vague and distracted, maybe lose your train of thought. Seven or eight will start to lower your inhibitions, and ten will make you feel pretty dizzy for a while.

It’s when you get past the dozen mark that you’re in trouble.

That’s when you start losing the abilities to speak without slurring, or co-ordinate your limbs, or hold your head up. The venom’s effects have been noted to resemble those of alcohol in many ways - get too much of it in your system and you’ll rarely get ill or die, but you’ll be pretty wasted for a while.

And since my punk-ass girlfriend always gets carried away when she starts giving me playful little ‘love bites’, I was soon, not to put too fine a point on it, pretty fucking wasted. Beyond the point where I could defend myself, or even continue complaining - I tried, but the only sounds I could manage to make were little snuffles and snorts, my numb jaw hanging agape.

Kyra loosened her grip around me, knowing my arms would’ve gone slack. My head lolled back on the cushion behind me, my eyes rolling up in my head. She eased my book from my nerveless fingers and set it down on the coffee table, making sure to slide in my bookmark so I wouldn’t lose my place.

Then she leaned over me and began to hungrily make out with my neck - which was, by now, very tender indeed from all the little nips her hair had given me. I let out some high-pitched whines as she licked and sucked at my sensitive throat - and all the while, she was sneaking her mischievous tendrils down the front of my shirt, where they began biting my small tits and nibbling my nipples.

My fingers twitched. My toes curled. It was all too much for the soft, squishy mess that used to be Sydney.

Before too long (though in my intoxicated state, there was no way I could tell how long), I was shaking and shuddering as an orgasm rippled through my limp body. I heard her snickering from somewhere in the near distance, hissing in her sultry voice, “Oh dear, someone’s made a mess of their shorts! Here, I’d better get those off you...”

A note of shame snuck under the layers of euphoria (only serving to stir my lust all over again), as Kyra climbed off me and yanked down the denim cutoffs and panties I’d just creamed myself in, leaving them tangled around one of my ankles. “Aawww,” I mumbled plaintively, still unable to lift my limbs, my head, or even my eyelids.

Grabbing me by the hips, she tugged my bare ass to the edge of the seat, causing my upper half to sprawl across the couch in a sweaty, sticky heap. “Now I’m gonna sit down here and watch my show, my sweet lil morsel,” she told my drooling insensible form. “You just lie there and try and get your wits back together. Oh, and try not to be too noisy, OK, cutie?”

With another sultry snigger, she plonked herself on the carpet between my splayed-out legs and leaned back against the chair behind her, her head resting on my crotch like it was a pillow.

Predictably enough, I soon felt her hair resume its shameless exploration of my incapacitated body, invading my most intimate area. A dozen little mouths and tongues deftly sucked and licked my labia, caressing my crevice and easing inside, threading between my buttocks to reach my rear entrance...

I didn’t hear a peep out of Kyra herself the whole time. For all I know, she was genuinely watching whatever it was she’d put on the TV, while playing me like a fiddle with her ophidian hair. Making me grunt and gurgle and giggle, and whimper and writhe and wriggle, limp and defenceless on the couch, as her many intruding tendrils probed deep inside my holes...

So. Venomous snake hair that reduces its victims to helpless, horny puddles. Devious supernatural girlfriend, who delights in either transforming you into a static stone statue, or drugging you into a powerless, pliable plush toy for her to play with - which she will, until you’re completely overstimulated. Pros, or cons...?

I mean, decide for yourselves, but I think I’ve made it pretty obvious which column I’m putting them in.