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Odysseus looked at the plate being served to him by two nymphs with a completely blank expression on his face, but he made the mistake of looking up and saw Circe's smug look, thus feeling a shiver go down his spine.
The last twenty-four hours had been...strange to put it in lightly and somewhat reductive terms.
First there had been the wind bad, then the makeshift docking on the island they were currently on, and finally the meeting Eurylochus and the other men had had with the island's enchantress.
Odysseus was tired, as much as he had not been since the early days of Troy, when his sleeping patterns were so weird and fragmentary that if it had not been for Athena's blessing he would probably have died in very undignified ways, such as smashing his skull after falling off a cliff…
It was fortunate that the goddess had wings.
Perhaps because of this, he did not assess the situation very well, nor did he devise a real strategy before he started walking toward the house of the sorceress, owner of the island.
Perhaps that was why he completely and deliberately ignored the laughter he heard echoing in the woods.
Perhaps that was why, when the sorceress greeted him at the door he decided that humoring her would be the winning move.
"I am Circe, dear, what is your name?"
The woman's voice was pure honey.
He had learned a lesson from Polyphemus
"Nobody, my lady."
She raised an eyebrow, perhaps he had made the wrong move, perhaps she was not as stupid as Polyphemus; but then she burst out laughing, a shrill sound escaping her soft lips, clearly without her consent
"A real delight, this humor of yours, Nobody, if you wish to be called so I will!"
He let his guard down, because that's what he always did, because he was a real idiot, sometimes, because he was tired, because he couldn't take it anymore.
He wanted to go home, he wanted the comforting embrace of his wife, to rest his face in her lap and weep for all the misfortunes he had faced.
But he couldn't.
He had to stay focused.
Defeat the sorceress.
But her scent was so good.
He had to stay focused.
To save his men.
But her hair looked so soft.
He had to stay focused.
To go home to his Penelope.
But her freckle-covered skin looked so wonderful because of the sunlight streaming in through the windows.
He had to...
They stopped at a table.
She told him to sit down and called for two nymphs to bring him a hot dish.
She stroked his disheveled, salt-stained hair, whispering sweet words in his ear.
Now he was looking at the plate again, Circe's gaze always damnably smug.
She encouraged him to eat, and Odysseus knew he should have pounced on the dish immediately, logically; he hadn't eaten in days, much less a hot, full meal, and yet there was something strange about it, his instincts told him so.
"What is this dish, my lady?"
"Pork! Only the best for my guests~"
He would have liked to inquire more, but as soon as the scent of meat reached his nose his brain short-circuited.
Without even noticing or caring about the lack of cutlery he began taking large handfuls of meat and stuffing them into his mouth like a desperate castaway.
It was the best thing he had ever eaten, even better than the olives he personally grew in his garden in Ithaca.
The more he ate the more dizzy he felt, it was as if some kind of magic was permeating him, enveloping him, intoxicating him.
He tore with his teeth every part of the pork he was served, not even sparing his ears.
His stomach began to get heavier, there was a feeling of heat that began to radiate throughout his body starting there.
He stood up to try to figure out what was going on but as soon as he did he felt his legs give way, a stabbing pain accompanying the action, as if the bones in his lower limbs were being disintegrated by hammers.
He fell to his knees and hands on the ground, managing to breathe for a single moment before an unseen force grabbed his spine and pulled it upward, breaking it in the process.
There were tears in Odysseus' eyes, but when he tried to move his mouth to call for help he only managed to let out a moan that looked eerily like a...grunt.
His face stretched, the man felt like the string of a bow being stretched.
He had a snout.
He tried to call for help again, but now the movement of what had once been his mouth was too awkward to really articulate words, instead more noises of discomfort and pain came out.
He saw his hair and beard fall to the floor in big chunks as long ears began to sprout from his ear canals like poison ivy, which then moved to the top of his head, making each noise around him ten times louder.
Now unable to speak he felt his two legs and arms shortening and his hands and feet shrinking and hardening.
A thin layer of incredibly short, light-colored fur began to cover him entirely, and a small twisted tail sprouted from his asshole; he thought he was going to bleed.
Then finally the pain subsided, but only to leave room for embarrassment and discomfort.
His four miserable limbs felt too weak to hold his weight, everything itched like hell, especially his asshole, his ears made him hear everything amplified.
The laughter of Circe's nymphs filled his head to the point where it was hard to reason.
Desperate he emitted more cries of pain, trying to move his useless paws to try to escape, but he did not get far before he collapsed under his own weight.
Two nymphs forcefully picked him up, and Circe gave him a firm pat on his swollen belly, causing him to let out a squeak of pain.
"What a lovely addition to my collection!"
She declared, with a laugh that made the pig shake even more.
"You'll make a great dinner to offer our next travelers, eh? Girls, take it with the others!"
He was left in a room so dark that he could see nothing.
He could feel the mud on his paws and no matter how cautiously he tried to turn around, he always bumped into another pig somehow.
It was claustrophobic how close to the others he was, he believed he would suffocate to death with two other pigs on each side that seemed to prevent his lungs from filling entirely, making him pant constantly.
Time passed without him being able to quantify it, there was food now and then, only molded fruits and garbage really, but he still ate to fill the hole that bothered him all the time, he wasn't sure there were defined times for those meals, though.
Everything was always incredibly dark.
At one point they threw more pigs into the room and moving even a few millimeters became completely impossible.
His whole body itched immensely and he could do nothing to scratch it.
He probably contracted fleas at some point because he could feel the little critters walking on his ears and laying their eggs there.
He could not scratch.
He could not see.
He could only stand perfectly still, immersed in mud and excrements, and hear his and the other pigs' pained moans.
Then they came for him.
He felt two nymphs once again hoist him onto their shoulders, and for the first time in who knows how long he saw sunlight.
The two nymphs put him in a bathtub and washed him carefully.
He emitted grunts of joy as he felt the mud being slowly scraped from his body by the water, the fleas fell dead into the tub, and he was dried with soft towels.
Then he was carried up to another room.
He was happy as they laid him on a table, finally clean and not itchy, kissed by the sunlight.
A nymph, different from the two who had washed him, gave him berries to eat, which were definitely better than the garbage he had been served earlier.
He was happy.
And then Circe's knife struck him right in the throat.