Before her catastrophic encounter with Perseus, on the island of Sarpedon, Medusa had taken off her ridiculous hat of snakes and gotten down to the serious business of giving birth while her girlfriend, Artemis, stood guard. Presently, everyone could hear the frightening mews of Medusa.

I dare say, her real power lay in her loins, as was demonstrated by her in the hard, heat of labor she had just entered. When the baby’s head was crowned, the flaps and folds of Medusa’s vulva opened like some wild, red passion flower.

Plenty of doctors rushed to Medusa’s aid, only to be instantly turned to stone by what they saw. Like lightning, the one survivor, a blind man, was immediately killed when he was picked off by the righteous arrows that flew from Artemis’s bow.

 Medusa and Artemis laughed at both the massacre and the birth at the same time. Artemis began sucking Medusa’s round, hard nipples (even before the baby got a chance!) in order to move things along down below. Once that little bit of clean-up took place, Artemis applied a herbal salve for mending. Then she let her forefinger linger on Medusa’s clit, delicately strumming away, until she continued her exploration by letting her hands wander lightly over Medusa’s body, nurturing, massaging, and healing.

Eventually, after a time, their mouths and tongues joined together, mixing their spittle, and dancing a slow tango of sweet delight.

The whereabouts of the father, Poseidon, you wonder; he was nowhere to be found.