Circe, the dread goddess, the grand-daughter of celestial Ocean, is the Lady of the isle of Aiaia, a piece of land lost in the mists of the Mediterranean Sea. The position of the island is not noted in any nautical map.
Those unfortunate crews of vessels sailing by the island that out of curiosity or need decide to go ashore for food, water or other quests, meet the fabulous mistress and charmed by her beauty, drink the potions she offers as refreshment. As Circe’s vile substances take effect, the once valiant men begin to change shape and soon are fully transformed into lions, if they once were brave and handsome, into wolves, if they were lonely and hideous, or, in the most of the cases, into swine, because humans and pigs are so much akin. Lions and wolves are free to wander into the deep forests and the rough mountains of Aiaia, but heartless Circe herds the swine into uncomfortable dirty pens.
Some wet nights, when Circe feels lonely she restitutes some of the lions to their original forms and as I have heard, they become taller and more handsome than before.
The scent of the lovers’ aura makes the swine dreaming to share the humid ecstasy, melting in their lust, starving and craving for an endless night of bliss but their dreams never come true…
Such nights you can listen to the echoing voices of the lonely wolves, far away in the mountains, crying out hymns to Aphrodite. You can imagine them with their piercing amber eyes staring at the moon.
By dawn, the male mates turn back into lions and exhausted of the complete, licentious night they return to their wilderness…