WACO’S
LUMMOX
By
Waddie Greywolf
Chapter
59
Brett Jones hung
suspended in the air almost twenty-five feet above the alter in the
National Cathedral. He perfected his performance to please
Scudder. Jones could now control every nuance of his show which
before was a subconscious involuntary response to his ecstatic
religious fervor; or was it fever? He couldn’t be
sure. All he knew was he no longer held his previous
beliefs. Even a brief education and exposure to the greater
functions and purpose of a universe brimming with possibilities far
greater than ever dreamed of in any of man’s myth based religions on
Earth was enough to douse the fires of his misplaced faith. Now
he believed in something far greater than the squalor, misery and
insanity three thousand years of the three major Abrahamic religions
could ever boast. He could clearly see the squelching of
education and intellectualism in any society by leaders, political or
religious, would always be an attempt to enslave the common man.
Fear is the
mother of all religions. Religious dogma of any brand and
false national pride were also powerful tools to keep an unenlightened
society in check. It was so successful it worked for centuries,
but with the advent of the industrial age and mass media, a large
majority of people began to see the light and be less prone to being
hoodwinked. Unfortunately, there was still a minority who seized
power who still clung to superstitions and myths to guide their
lives. The irony was, their leaders themselves didn’t believe the
dreck they dished out to the unwashed masses. Man struggled up
from his primitive past and managed to crawl and claw his way up
through several thousand years repeating the same mistakes over and
over. There truly was nothing new under the sun. They had
their time on Earth, but their time was running out.
Jones didn’t
tell the Holy Prophet his blood or touch alone could heal an
ordinary human. Jesse advised him, the less they knew about
his physical transformation the safer he would be. He might need
his capabilities in an emergency situation. Now, as he hung in
the air the choir sang softly as he opened the wounds in his hands and
they began to bleed, then his feet and finally opened a wound on his
left side. He could control the drops of blood he released so it
was never enough to cause him to become lightheaded. As the music
grew to a crescendo he decided to give the crowd something new to wow
them. He began to emit minute particles from his body that were
almost imperceptible at first, but the light shining through the
colored glass in the huge windows gave the particles a sparkle and a
life of their own. It looked like holy rays were shooting from
his body and appeared he was radiating a divine aura. It created
a stunning effect and looked supremely supernatural.
Jones recycled
his particles by simply having them curve around in back of him and
float back into his body. He felt like one of those god-awful
rain lamps from the sixties and early seventies which pumped a light
oil (glycerin) from a catch basin to a feed cavity on top and would
slowly slide down clear nylon strings in small droplets to simulate
rain. In the center was always some half naked golden goddess of
some forgotten religion standing in a rain forest made of
plastic. Brett Jones was the fully naked god in this production,
and his body particles were the rain. When the audience saw it
for the first time they were gobsmacked. Whispers ran through the
crowd until they faded into utter silence. To have so many
bodies, packed into the church like sardines in a can, achieve total
and absolute silence was a major miracle in itself. They were
convinced they were seeing something of a divine nature. Several
gay men in the audience were quite sure Brett Jones was dinine but for
totally
different
reasons. Just what the
audience
was witnessing, they couldn’t say, but it wasn’t the important
thing. What was most important was it gave them a token, some
small sign their misplaced faith had some bit of credence after
all. They neither looked for nor ever considered there might be a
rational explanation for what they were witnessing. They didn’t
want to be skeptical or consider another possibility. Faith
allows for neither. Unlike poor Fox Mulder, who wanted to believe
something was possible, they wanted to believe the impossible.
Alas, P. T. Barnum was right. Brett Jones’ talents made it
possible, and their faith did the rest.
Ignorance and
fear taught to young children meant to perpetuate the same fear and
ignorance their parents were taught is an endless cycle unless a
society rises up against it, condemns it for the lie it is and replaces
it with truth in the form of education, knowledge and
enlightenment. Brett Jones learned these truths from his sojourn
with the Grange and his exposure to the people of the colonies.
As he hung there, he thought about his beloved Basil, his friends in
the colonies he came to love and his heart was full; yet, a sadness
came over him. He began to feel empathy and shed tears of sorrow
for the audience before him. His tears fell and mingled with his
blood while looking into the vacant eyes of the congregation so
mesmerized by his performance when he realized they would not escape
the horrible end that was fast approaching. They could not see
his sorrow; they only saw his tears as part of his passion and were
deeply moved.
As Austin
Taycious watched Jones’ number he ground his back teeth together in
rage remembering the summer of his twelfth year. He worked hard
that summer in the hellishly hot Texas sun picking cotton for his
granddad for a nickle a pound. Day after day, he dragged the
heavy cotton sack up and down endless rows over the steaming hot, jet
black, volcanic soil of Central Texas and the more he picked, the
heavier the sack became until the wide leather strap which held it
across his small shoulders would chaff, bite into his skin and cause
bleeding blisters on his back and chest. For his dedication he
earned himself forty dollars that summer. It was a fortune to
him; more money than he ever had in his life.
By the age of
twelve, Austin’s hormones were in full bloom. He already knew he
wanted to be a cowboy’s sweetheart. Big Texas cowboys made his
heart race and his dick drool. He sucked his first penis at ten
(Scudder’s), and allowed himself to be butt fucked by a big, good
looking Mexican migrant worker who spoke very few words of English, but
enough to make his wishes understood to Austin.
“You fuck women,
boy?” he asked knowing the chances of a slight, fey, twelve year old
kid
ever fucking a woman or a young girl was absolutely nada.
“Naw, Sir.”
Austin admitted quietly shuffling the toe of his old, worn boot in the
dust.
“No
problamo. Guillermo big, strong man; strong like bull, fuck many
women. Guillermo teach. You learn. You be Guillermo’s
leetle puta. Guillermo teach boy to fuck like el toro.” he
bragged.
Although he
didn’t speak much English the big man managed to get his convoluted
point across to Austin he would teach the boy how to fuck by fucking
him. Austin was young and naive, but he wasn’t stupid. If
the Mexican wanted to assuage his macho guilt by disguising his sexual
overtures to the boy as a elective course in fucking, who was he to say
‘no’? He’d gladly enroll in his class. Austin had no
ambitions whatsoever to learn to fuck, but he played the game to get
what he wanted. The Mexican made love to the boy like he was his
little puta or whore. He showed Austin love and tenderness to get
what he wanted. He played with Austin’s young, tender body,
rubbing and caressing him, kissing him and calling him his ‘leetle
puta.’ He wet his finger with his saliva and fingered Austin’s
tight
little hole until he was loose and ripe for penetration. At first
he was a gentle and compassionate lover, but as passion gave way to
unbridled lust and his need for release became greater he began to fuck
the boy more aggressively with ever increasing speed and greater
lengthening strength in his strokes.
Austin, like so
many young partners, male or female are never told or prepared for that
part of sex, and rather than being taught how to relax, how to work
with a partner to best enjoy it, they fight against it and ultimately
feel hurt and abused. Austin was no different and began to cry as
the big man, after several minutes of furiously fucking the boy fast
and hard, finally reached his climax. Fortunately for Austin, the
man was an experienced lover, understood it was probably Austin’s first
time, and didn’t withdraw from the boy until he calmed him, made more
love to him and comforted him. Then he fucked him again very
gently but not without some modicum of affection.
He fucked Austin
numerous times that summer in his granddaddy’s barn, and taught little
Austin the pleasures of male sex. He would initiate sex with
Austin by asking if he thought he needed another lesson. Austin
would play along by telling him he certainly would appreciate it.
He learned a lot from the big man, but thought several more, in depth,
lessons might help round off his rough edges. Then he would
compliment the Mexican by telling him he could never hope to be as good
a fucker as his teacher, but what a great pleasure and honor it was for
him to have the chance to study under such a fine master of the
fuck. Austin even took a couple of post grad courses from him
that summer in advanced coupling techniques. He considered
applying for a research grant, but thought that might be pushing things
a bit far.
He learned to
enjoy the big man’s most aggressive fuckings. He learned to relax
and allow his body to respond. He found himself transported to
another realm where he couldn’t control his body under the onslaught of
the Mexican’s relentless thrusts into his smaller body with his much
larger penis. Austin couldn’t control his tiny penis as he
suddenly felt his body and his sphincter give itself up completely to
the big man’s relentless strokes and opened to him like a flower on a
clear summer’s morning. No sprawlmart ever had a grander
opening. It truly was a revelation to young Austin. He
doubted walking the golden streets of heaven would be such a wonderful
experience. There was no more pain, no more discomfort, only a
peace and understanding bordering on religious ecstasy as he conjoined
with the big man’s hardworking penis in his ass and became one with
it. Austin stopped being himself and became the raging
Mexican bull inside him. He suddenly understood its want and felt
fortunate he could provide for its needs. It became too much for
him and something
had to give, and give it did. His small boy penis began to spill
its seed for the first time. Wave after wave racked his body
until he was spent; yet, he continued to give his ass up to his bull
until he, too, erupted inside Austin like Popocatepetl, filling his
gut with his Mexican volcano’s pyroclastic flow and his fiery hot,
chili flavored magma.
It was at that
moment Austin Taycious discovered what sex was all about. It was
the icing on his birthday cake; it was rockets and fireworks on the
Fourth of July; it was the Big Bang of his small universe; it was
Austin’s reward for being his bull’s good little puta. He
couldn’t understand many of the words, but he knew his partner was
pleased with him. In his self-hyped macho brain the Mexican was
proud of his own sexual powers he could fuck Austin so well he caused
him to climax. He reasoned, only a real man, a bull among men, is
capable of satisfying all his partners. At the end of that summer
the big Mexican went his way without so much as an ‘Adios’ and never
returned. Austin thought he should’ve a least gotten a diploma to
hang on his wall. ‘No matter,’ he rationalized, ‘it probably
would’ve been in Spanish anyway.’
Texas in the
late sixties was a world where there were no grey areas of sexuality,
and it hasn’t changed much since. Everything was either black or
white. You couldn’t be in-between. Austin was eaten up by
his summer of debauchery and homosexual guilt. He knew he was one
of those sinful homosexual cocksuckers the Pentacostals preached so
adamantly
against, who would surely burn in a lake of fire for all eternity for
his abnormal abominable sexual preferences. Even worse than
cocksucking,
he liked to take it up his ass like a man would use a woman. He
liked it a lot. Nay, he loved it. After that summer with
his Mexican tutor, he could think of nothing else but finding another
man’s big penis to fill his empty, hungry hole. El toro had done
his job well. To say he opened Pandora’s box in reference to
Austin’s little hole was a solid metaphor. While he didn’t teach
Austin to ‘fuck-like-bull,’ he did teach him to be a cock crazed puta.
Austin was sure
his asshole suddenly developed a mind of its own as it relentlessly
demanded to be satisfied. It yelled and screamed at him. It
moaned and groaned like it was in the very throes of death. It
twitched and squirmed. It itched and burned. No amount of
his granddaddy’s Bag Balm, the old man used on the cow’s udders, or
Preparation H could calm it. He would clinch his butt cheeks
together as tight as he could to keep it from yelling at him in his
head, “Feed me, Austin! Fill me! I need cock! Fuuuck
meee!” Austin remembered the hard rubber udder stalls his
granddad used to cover cow’s teats to keep a calf he was trying to wean
from sucking its momma. He would grease one up with the heavy
petroleum jelly based Bag Balm salve, shove it up his ass, saddle up
his pony and ride for miles letting the movement of his horse and
saddle do the work of fucking him slowly and deeply until he finished
with a hard gallop which would cause him to ejaculate in his Wranglers.
Austin was a
clever boy. He even designed and built himself a harness out of
some old scrap leather tack he found in the barn which he used to
tightly strap one up his ass to wear around the farm as he did his
chores. He would wear it on those long hot days he worked from
sunup to sundown picking cotton. It wasn’t the real thing, but at
least at night, his hole would leave him alone for a while and allow
him to get some rest. On the up side, with the constant
use of the Bag Balm, he never developed hemorrhoids. Strangely
enough, for all his fixation with his ass being penetrated, he never
had thoughts of being in the wrong body. He neither imagined
himself as nor ever wanted to be a women. He just loved to suck
dick and have his butt fucked. It wasn’t until much later, after
Jesse punished Scudder by changing his penis into a cunt, did Austin
begin to think it just might not be such a bad idea.
Evangelist
seemed to be everywhere that summer like insidious cockroaches doing
what they do best by scaring the crap out of the ignorant and
superstitious to bilk them of what little money they possessed.
Many poor farmers or ranchers barely had enough money to feed their
children but would give generously to the blood sucking hucksters at
the expense of their children’s nutrition. Those bible banging
bastards certainly did a number on Austin. He didn’t want to burn
in a lake of fire. It was hot enough dragging that damnably heavy
cotton bag day after day, but the preachers promised the temperature in
Hell would be a hundred times hotter than the hottest Texas day.
The thought of an eternity like that was too much for his small twelve
year old brain to handle.
One night his
grandmother took him to a tent revival to hear a young, ten year old
boy prodigy, named Marjoe (a contraction of the names Mary and Joseph)
who was a Pentecostal preacher. Most of the time
when his grandmother dutifully dragged him along to one of those insane
John Hagee style spectacles he was able to tune them out, think of
other things or silently doodle on a small pad he carried with him in
his coat pocket, but Austin listened intently to the charismatic,
gifted young boy who picked up the style and delivery of a composite of
several of the best evangelistic, soul sucking, money grubbing
hucksters and mimicked them to the point of perfection. Every
turn of a phrase, every movement, every dramatic pause, from every
whispered plea to every shout while pounding the bible with the boy’s
small fist was carefully played out for maximum effect; a classic case
of monkey see, monkey do as is so often the case with prodigies.
Austin was
impressed because the boy was only slightly younger than himself, but
appeared to be much more mature than Austin and seemed to really have
his shit together. It was an instant case of peer identification,
jealousy, empathy, seduction, hero worship and manipulation. At
the end of his hyper-dramatic sermon the young boy said, through the
power of Jesus Christ anyone could be changed. The sinner could
be made whole again, but there was one small catch. You had to do
something for Jesus in return. You had to make a sacrifice for
God’s work and the greater glory of Jesus Christ by supporting Marjoe
and his ministry. The greater the sacrifice the greater the
miracle one could expect. Austin Taycious wanted to
believe. He wanted to believe so bad he could feel it way down
deep in his soul. He wanted to
believe the impossible with all his heart and knew what he must
do. When the time came to pass the collection plate he gave his
forty dollars he worked so hard for that summer. Surely God would
see his great sacrifice, hear his prayers in return for his small
fortune he gave so willingly to Marjoe’s ministry. It wasn't just
money. It represented his hard work, his blood and sweat.
His grandmother
saw him put his money into the plate. She knew full well how hard
he worked and how proud he was of it, but rather than tell him to put
his money away, she smiled, patted him on his knee and praised Jesus
her grandson was such a generous, selfless, God fearing young
man.
Austin left the service fully convinced at any moment Jesus would
change him into a cunt chasing hound dog. He, too, would become
one of those big, rough, tough, swaggering, crude Texas cowboys he so
admired. He’d put his thumb to the side of his nose and blow his
snot out his other nare, grab his crotch to adjust his tackle for
best viewing by the ladies, and when he thought no one was looking,
scratch his ass. He would hang with his rough talking buddies,
rodeo, suck down shots of tequila or whiskey and drink barrels of beer,
get into barroom brawls, then take the prettiest heifer in the herd to
his bed, eat her pussy ‘til her juices ran down and dripped from his
heavily stubbled chin from three days lack of shaving and fuck her
brains out with his God given and Jesus adjusted new sexuality.
Needless to say,
it never happened. The next day Austin Taycious was still as
queer as the day he was born. He was crushed. Weeks later
he still couldn’t get men out of his mind. Good looking men,
cowboys, were all he thought about morning, noon and night, but the
very worst cut of all, Marjoe had his forty bucks. He became so
depressed he considered suicide. If it wasn’t for Norman (Jerry)
Scudder he probably would have. Scudder was no lover, but he was
something, anything in a vast, hot, dry sea of Texas nothingness.
Together their lives orbited each others until they ended up in the
highest office in the land. Years later, Marjoe was brought up on
charges for some minor offense and who just happened to be his
judge? Austin was appointed a federal judge by his state senator
at the time, Jerry Scudder. After sentencing him, some months
later Austin heard poor Marjoe died in the Cheney work camp he sent him
to, from stress, overwork, malnutrition and pneumonia. ‘More’s
the pity.’ thought Austin with a wry smile on his lips.
‘Vengeance is
mine, saith the Lord.’ was one of Austin’s favorite quotes from the
scriptures. He was also quite fond of, ‘Be sure, your sins will
find you out.’ He thought he would feel happy and elated on
hearing of Marjoe’s death. He didn’t. He wasn’t.
Revenge wasn’t as sweet as he thought it might be. He felt
absolutely nothing. There was only a lingering, bitter taste in
his mouth. After all was said and done, Marjoe still had his
forty bucks. He thought about the ending of Citizen Kane and saw
his small personal fortune burning along side the small wooden sled in
the fiery furnace. It wasn’t about the money; Austin Taycious was
a wealthy man. Like Rosebud, it was a symbol of his youth and the
loss of innocence. He still wore the scars from the leather strap
on the huge cotton sack which caused the blisters that never healed
properly. Austin lost all faith in everything, but most
of all religion. He gave his all that summer, including his pride
and sense of selfworth, for nothing. He would make sure it never
happened again. He saw organized religion as a con game to dupe
the ignorant and poor out of their hard earned money. A game well
played by loud, fat, lazy but clever charlatans.
In all those
years after he gave his forty dollars to Marjoe, he never contributed
another penny to any religious organization, but he learned to
politically use and bilk them of everything he could every chance he
got. He took hundreds of thousands of dollars under the table
from right wing religious organizations who wanted some insane
legislation passed. He would promise faithfully he would do his
best to see their bill got into the proper hands and was ultimately
passed. Austin lied and swore he would walk it through himself,
but then, he would do nothing for them. He laughed at them for
being so gullible and stupid to have faith enough in him to give him
their money,
just as he was once gullible and stupid enough to give Marjoe
his. He told
himself that’s just the way the world works. Dog eats dog.
A bigger dog eats a smaller dog then raises his leg in contempt.
He wondered sometimes if his lack of faith might one day become his
salvation. He thought about forgiving the man who stole his money
as a kid. After all, if it hadn’t been for Marjoe, he might have
become just another crazed, slobbering, halfwit, rabid fundamentalist
moron
pouring money down an endless well with nothing to show for his
dedication but empty promises. The mature adult inside him wanted
him to forgive, but the little boy didn’t. Guess who won?
If you bet on the adult, you lost.
As he stood and
watched Jones do his number, there was no doubt in his mind it was all
an act. He knew there was something very different about Jones
since he’d returned from the mysterious place the two men took
him. Before, he was an innocent farm boy who suddenly discovered
he possessed some miraculous powers, but Taycious was convinced he
didn’t have a clue what was happening to him or why. He came back
quite different. He was far more savvy and seemed to be in
complete control of everything he did. There wasn’t the same
sense of wonder and awe to his act. The spontaneity was
gone. In its place was a far more controlled, sophisticated
presence that milked the supernatural aspect to the maximum. Did
his new friends teach him how to better use his powers? Was he in
full control of them? It smacked of the same polished,
professional disingenuousness Austin witnessed in that revival tent one
hot Texas summer night all those years ago. Was Brett Jones Jerry
Scudder’s Marjoe?
Austin pondered
these things and sighed deeply. At least, this time, he was on
the receiving end of the Jesus H. Christ, God Almighty Circus, Dog and
Pony Show. He thanked his imaginary friend Myrna Mae for small
favors. She was Austin’s cut-rate personal savioress he invented
for himself. Myrna Mae was a little like Jesus without the high
drama. Being a bargain basement biblical brahmin, she promised
just as much for a lot less personal investment. To have faith in
the divinity of Myrna Mae was to wear an easy yoke. You not only
got to keep your soul, but you also didn’t have to carry as much
baggage. She didn’t make you feel like you were the only ox
pulling the plow. One didn’t have to be born again to gain her
favors. As long as you believed in her, she was happy with you
the way you were. She always thought the idea of a second birth
was bit tacky anyway.
She was a much more simple savior but
sometimes got befuddled over dogma. She changed it as often as
her hair color. Her role model was the R.C.C. She was so
laid back one had to check in with her periodically to make sure she
was still in the savior business. Those who didn’t believe in the
divine Ms. double M insisted she was little more than an overdressed,
dowdy fag-hag who used way too much makeup, cheap perfume— ‘Evening In
Paris’ was her favorite— and carried with her an assorted bag of tricks
she sent away for from an add on the back of an Archie and Betty comic
book. Anti-Myrna Maes could be so cruel. Even though they
lacked faith in her, she had a big heart and insisted she still loved
them anyway. She was an equal opportunity savior, and made the
rain to fall on nonbelievers as well as those who were her faithful
followers.
On a good day,
Myrna Mae looked a lot like Betty Butterfield. She had a magic
wand with a big star on the end covered in dime store glitter she
called her ‘be-dazzler.’ It didn’t do a hell of a lot, but she
thought it made her look heavenly. She was good to poor folks,
whores, prostitutes, trannys, faggots and the misbegotten; much like
the folks Jesus commanded his followers to love, but somehow just never
seemed to get around to. She also dearly loved cowboy
slaves. She had a new one share her bed every night who would
whisper to her what a marvelous fuck she was and could he please ride
her one more time? Since she had the power to remake herself into
a blessed virgin after each fuck, she never said ‘no.’ Late at
night when the heavens would rumble, between the flash of the
lightening and the repeat of the thunder, Austin could swear he could
hear her voice calling out in ecstasy, “Yee-haw! Ride ‘em,
cowboy!” and he would fall into a peaceful sleep knowing his savioress
allowed yet another cowboy to come unto her and granted him her
piece. As the soft rain began to fall, Austin would dream of his
own peace, a big ole Texas size piece of peace, coming unto him.
* * * * * * *
Scudder cut back
Jones’ performances since he returned. Before he was doing a show
for three services every Sunday and one for Wednesday night prayer
meeting. No church in history ever recorded such record numbers
for a prayer meeting. Brett told him he didn’t think he was
capable of doing so many performances anymore. His body didn’t
have the proper time to recover and thus over stressed his heart.
Jesse Watkins warned him and Scudder of spreading himself too thin, but
for a man of Jones’ talents it wasn’t too difficult. Now he was
down to two shows per month; the first and third Sunday of every month
but only the eleven o’clock service. The crowds would be so large
they would be packed into the streets and have huge video screens for
them to watch. They tried selling tickets, but like everything
else, only the very rich could afford them and the scalpers were having
a field day. Black-market dealers were selling tickets for five
hundred to a thousand per seat. While Jones had no interest in
the money it generated, other than his salary as a temple guard, which
Scudder raised ten fold and made him a member of his personal staff, he
was disturbed the people who could really benefit most from his
performances were not being included.
There were
several threats on his life. Some fringe crazies claimed he was
trying to be Jesus. They insisted there was only one lord and
savior, and they were pretty sure they’d recognize him if and when he
came, but they knew Brett Jones wasn’t him. No matter how many
people he helped or healed, the far right lunatic fringe of the major
bible bangers were convinced Brett Jones was a false prophet.
Then
again, many of them considered Scudder a shoo-in for the
anti-Christ. Scudder assigned Commander Hawkins and Officer Sven
Olafson as his permanent body guards. He had to be accompanied
everywhere he went in public. Together with his constant
chaperones, who became his best friends and buddies, they began to make
the rounds of the children’s hospitals in the H. C. area.
(formally D. C.) They
wore Western clothes as a disguise and most folks didn’t recognize
them. The kids seemed to respond positively to the image of three
big cowboys coming to visit and bringing them small presents.
Olafson never
wore Western clothes before. He was the biggest of the three and
there was no doubt the people of his genetic origins were Vikings or
Norsemen. He looked like he could have been a direct descendent
of Olaf the Great better known as King Canute. He looked a lot
like a written description of the old Viking pirate king from the
Knytlinga Saga. (pronounced: cuntlinga) “Knute was exceptionally
tall and strong, and the handsomest of men, all except for his nose,
which was thin, high set, and rather hooked. He had a fair
complexion none the less, and a fine, thick head of purest blond
hair. His eyes were better than those of other men, both the more
handsome and the keener of their sight.”
Sven was also
quite good looking with ruggedly handsome features and a magnificently
developed body to match. At thirty he was definitely a mature
man, but he had a Baby Huey side to him that Hawkins and Jones took
great delight in exploiting. He was a fine athlete and moved like
a cat when he was in action, but he also had a childlike naivete and a
boyish clumsy side to him that would embarrass the shit out of him from
time to time; however, it only seemed to add to his charm for those who
knew and loved him. Jones and Hawkins came to love their buddy
Sven and became very protective of him, but they would also gang up on
him and do some god awful things for their amusement. They were
never meanspirited, but they kept him on his toes. He just never
knew what to expect from the two of them.
He enjoyed
seeing Jones and Hawkins wear their Western clothes, but he wasn’t
really sure he would like the look for himself; however, after Jones
and Hawkins tricked him out with a complete outfit he looked damn
good. He could pass for a pretty convincing cowboy on the streets
of any Western town. Once he looked at himself in the mirror and
adjusted his hat just right, his whole personality changed. His
voice inflection dropped an octave, he began to speak at a much slower
rate like his tongue was swollen or just plumb lazy, and he was
definitely developing a slight Southern lilt to his speech
patterns. To their unbridled amusement, it wasn’t long before
Jones and Hawkins noticed things like, ‘ma’am’ and ‘ya’ll’ and ‘don’t
never’ and ‘wee dogies’ creeping into their buddy’s verbal
syntax. A short time later, he announced to his comrades he
wanted be known as Tex Olafson. Jones and Hawkins laughed their
butts’ off and ribbed the poor man mercilessly. He was good
natured and went along with their shit.
Then, one day he
told them he was sure he was born into the wrong body. Jones and
Hawkins looked at each other in horror until he further explained he
thought he was a closet cowboy and wondered if there was some hormone
therapy he could get to make his dick bigger. He already hung
loose at ten and a half but was sure real cowboys were much larger than
him. Of course, Jones and Hawkins assured him that was true and
suggested various vacuum pumps and stretching devices for the poor
man. He further revealed to them since they dressed him up like a
cowboy he was having vivid, lucid dreams about cowboys and
spaceships. They didn’t take him seriously. They thought he
was joking.
Accompanied by
his comrades, Jones managed to heal hundreds of kids, until the word
got out to watch out for three cowboys. The families of the
children were thrilled and couldn’t praised them enough. The
hospitals, not so much. The corporate owned medical facilities
claimed Jones was practicing
medicine illegally and initiated an injunction against his
actions. He was causing them to lose money. Jones and his
buddies couldn’t believe the hypocrisy. He was growing weary of
the big city life and the shallowness of it all. He respectfully
demanded more free time for himself and his two bodyguards. He
got pretty much anything he wanted. He was, after all, not only
the Holy Prophet’s main squeeze but also Scudder’s main draw in the
religious arena. He made sure he never missed a scheduled
appearances at the National Cathedral when he was in the Holy City, but
he would take a week or two off several times a year to return to the
colonies. He insist he needed his bodyguards there as much as
when he was in residence at the
Holy City. Of course he did, not for his protection, but for
their companionship. He and Hawkins were getting ready to leave
the Holy City for their third time and would be gone for two
weeks. Scudder sent for him and the Commander.
“As you men know
them lizard men came to me again and made some outrageous demands on me
and our government. We told them to go fuck themselves the last
time they were here. Since then they’ve cause all sorts of
problems with power outages and other nasty things. They’re
pushing hard, showing us their power without causing a lot of
panic for right now. I don’t think we’d be much use to them if
the country collapses in a physical or financial crisis. Does
your guardians, Jesse and Utah, watch over you men all the time?” he
asked.
“Pretty much,
Sir.” the commander answered.
“Do you think he
can hear me now?” Scudder asked.
“Sure.” said
Jones without a hint of doubt. Jones knew Kyron already alerted
Jesse and Utah and was sending their conversation by robo-cam.
“Speak to me,
Norman.” boomed Jesse’s voice over Jones and Hawkin’s robo-cams in
surround sound stereo.
“Would you and
your partner please come to me? I need to talk with you about
some things.” he humbly asked.
“No problem.”
Jesse answered. There was a great flash of white light.
Scudder shielded his eyes and there stood Jesse dressed like as a brown
dirt cowboy with Utah by his side. They were standing between Del
and Brett.
“Welcome,
gentlemen.” Scudder tried to sound genuine.
“Hey,
Norman. What’s up, H.P.?” Jesse grinned. “You decided you wanna’
go all the way and have yore’self a couple a' little Jones’?” he
grinned.
“Honestly?
If I considered going all the way, which I ain’t, I wouldn’t want
another man’s baby but Brett Jones.’” he said. “Can we speak in
private, Sir?” he asked.
“No, you people
try to keep ever’ damn thing you do private and hush-hush. You
got so many damn secrets your left hand ain’t got no idea what your
right hand’s doing. Jones and Hawkins know almost ever’ thing I
know, and if they don’t, h’it’s only ‘cause we ain’t told ‘em
yet. Where we dwell and they visit, we ain’t got no time for
secrets. People are honest and up front with one another. I
done told you they would be loyal to you to the very end. They
been keeping their part of the bargain and they will, but like I told
you, don’t try to use them or pump them for information. They
won’t tell you nothing. Now tell me what’s on your mind,
Norman? We ain’t got all day.”
“You know about
the lizard men what’s come are creating all kinds of problems for
me. One of their leaders Moloke is due to speak with me tomorrow,
and I have to tell him something. They want some outrageous
things. Things too sick and demented to even speak about.”
Scudder shuddered.
“Like human
babies delivered to them for food like a man would slaughter and eat a
suckling pig?” Jesse asked.
“Yeah, and a lot
of other unbelievable shit.” Scudder replied.
“They’s just
following their own natural agenda, Norman. They're ruthlessly
predatory. Much like you neo-conservatives. They see you
folks as
only important to them as so much meat in a butcher shop in their
version of a universal sprawlmart. They don’t give a rats ass
about your civilization,
how far you’ve advance or where you might go from here. They
don’t care about your beliefs, wealth or your position as supreme
pooh-bah of this planet. You’re only another piece of meat to
them. They will start with the most tender, the very youngest
first and move on to you older cuts later.” Jesse was firm but
blunt. He continued, “They’ll go through the people of Earth like
a threshing machine. In fact, they have large machines they can
drop hundreds into to be instantly ground for food for their
pets. For themselves, they prefer to have you cleaned, dressed
and properly prepared.”
“It’s too
horrible to contemplate.” said Scudder.
“Yeah, but I
guess if a cow, a pig, or a chicken could reason they might feel the
same way.” Jesse allowed. Scudder ignored him.
“Can you and
your people help us?” he asked in a pleading voice.
“We could, but
we won’t. We exist separate from your world. We can’t be
bothered by your problems. We have our own agenda, but it don’t
coincide nor does it conflict with yours. I told you before, it’s
too late for you people. You done every damn thing wrong and
insist on clinging to your old myths and superstitions. Have you
thought about
calling on God, Jesus, Yahawe, Allah, Ganesh, or Vishnu to come down
and save your sorry asses?” Jesse smiled.
“I already tried
that. All I get is a wrong number.” Scudder said bitterly.
“Besides,” he continued, “if you ain’t with us you’re against us.” he
accused.
“Can it,
Norman! That sort of warped logic only works on your own people
when you want them to buy into some insane policy of your
devising. When lies and propaganda don’t work you play the
patriotic card, if someone don’t agree with you or dissents you label
them traitors. Do you really think we’re that dumb? We
could wipe you out over night, but we won’t. Why bother, you’re
doomed anyway. You’re certainly in no position to be dictating to
us what our political agenda should be.”
“Just what is
your people’s agenda?” he asked.
“To collect
flora and fauna, catalog information, and save the righteous to escape
the final destruction that’s sure to come. We know you won’t give
into
them snakes without a fight. We wouldn’t expect you to.
Besides, your lunatic fringe have been pushing for their Armageddon for
years with or without the return of a Christ. They’s bound and
determined, come hell or high water they’re gonna’ get it, and they
will. Boy, will they get it. It will happen, but they won’t
be the ones saved at the
very end. They will be exterminated like the pestilence they have
become.
Don’t you think
the snakes know your history and what your religions are all
about? They been major players in your beliefs over the years to
keep you in line and keep you fighting each other. If you ever
got over your petty differences and became a united world you might
grow and learn to develop defenses against them. They couldn’t
have that. They never wanted you to develop to the point where
you could take your place among those who go out into the
universe. Would you try to educate your food sources? Would
you send a cow to college? They know everything about you.
They purposely
had a hand in the invention and birth of your major religions so each
would become pitted against the other. Your religions are so
fractionalized, subdivided, and contradictory even if Christ were to
walk in your front door today, you and your kind would have him
arrested and sent to a Cheney camp as a radical. Look what
happened to Jones and his buddies when they tried to help sick
children. You allowed your greedy corporate ghouls to get an
injunction to stop him from emptying their hospitals. You tell
me, what’s wrong with that picture, Norman?”
“I know, I’m
working on it, but the corporate health industry has grown too large
and too powerful. There are things I can do and things I
can’t. If I started working to change the system at this late
date, I’d be a dead man within a week, but things would be a damn sight
worse than they are now, I guarantee you.” Scudder defended his
position.
“Bullshit,
Norman! That’s just my point. Y’ain’t never tried.
You took over all them big corporations and made yourself supreme
leader
a number of years ago. You’ve had the power to make sweeping
changes, but you ain’t done jack shit. You’ve had damn near a
decade to slowly make changes, but it would mean you might have to give
up some control, delegate some of your authority, begin to make broad
and sweeping moves to the left of center to include the majority
of your public who has been stifled and mostly silenced by the Bush
regime and now yours. You ain’t done nothing but perpetuate the
same dead end policies you inherited.
You took over
everything, but so what? They found ways to work around
you. You became little more than a titular head. You’re
like one of them bobble heads in the back of a Chicano Chevy
low-rider. You’ve killed millions of innocent civilians in your
oil wars and decimated thousands of young men and women of your own
country without provocation other than your power base demanded
it. You never attended one of their funerals. Your economy
is in ruins, and yet you still continue to feed the fattest of the fat
cats. You might think about rounding them up like a bunch of
cattle, branding them and holding them as your first payment to your
new masters. That might be fun.” Jesse laughed. Scudder
didn’t appreciate the humor.
“What about the
people on Venus?” Scudder threw out.
“What about
them?” Jesse shot back.
“Hawkins and
Jones told me about saving some whales on the surface, but there’s an
underground civilization. Obviously you know about them and are
on friendly terms. Can they help us?” Scudder grasped for straws.
“Why?
First of all, if they could, we wouldn’t let them. Our people are
far more advanced than they are. We’re more advanced than the
snakes and grays. Secondly, they are just coming out from under
the snakes and gray’s domination of a couple of thousand years.
They only have three space worthy crafts and one that can make it
around in their atmosphere. They ain’t made trips to Earth for
more than observational purposes for a number of years. We’re
trying to help them. They just got attacked by the snakes to try
to scare them into submission again, but they refused. I think,
with a little help from us, they just might make it.”
“Why would you
help them and not us?” Scudder looked shocked.
“It simple,
Norman. They’re a peaceful race. They don’t war among
themselves. They have developed a strong, united society, and
they shun the belief in myths. They've grown past their voo-doo,
witch doctor phase. They believe in themselves and
what they can accomplish with co-operation and hard work. They
still have some growing to do, but their potential as a people far
outweighs homo sapiens. You were the one human who had a chance
to make a difference to turn it all around, Norman, and you blew
it. The fate of mankind, or the folks we leave behind will depend
on you.”
“Who are you
people? Where do you come from?” Scudder pressed.
“I was born here
on Earth. So was my partner. We’re made up of bits and
pieces of a number civilizations who have suffered greatly at the hands
of the snakes and grays. We’ve come together to live and work in
harmony against our common enemy, but we don’t try to impose any one
people’s way of life on any others. We are gathering many like
minded people from Earth to escape with us. We’re taking your
rejects, mostly free thinking men and women, the liberals you jailed
and threw in your Cheney camps to be worked to death. Good people
who don’t believe in the absolute infallibility of religious dogma or
ultra-right wing conservatism. We’re gathering up your cast offs,
like homosexual men and women who are talented and mostly well
educated. Many of your own staff who serve you, because
they have to right now to survive, will be ‘raptured’ before
any harm can come to them.”
“It just ain’t
fair.” said Scudder strongly.
“Really?
Tough shit, Norman! You had salvation from the snakes and grays
in your hands and you let it slip through your fingers. You had a
space program at the turn of the century what would rival ours in many
ways.”
“Wait, before
you say another word, Hawkins and Jones ain’t cleared for such
information?” Scudder stopped him.
“What the fuck
are you talking about, you silly twit? You don’t even have a
space program anymore. NASA’s a joke. What’s to keep
secret? Besides, they know everything. We have no secrets
from them. That ain’t the way we operate. It’s just another
one of your government’s stupid, fucked up military-industrial complex
attempts at placing a strangle hold on all information for the
advantage of the corporate bureaucracy. That’s exactly why you
lost your space program. They kept everything so damn secret
because when your government back-engineered the crashed spaceships
from Roswell and several hundred other crash sites, you discovered an
almost limitless, safe, cheap, abundant power source.
Your
disinformation network set about to purposely mislead the public into
believing anyone who believed in or claimed to see a UFO was a
kook. You claimed the public couldn’t know the truth about UFOs
because people would panic and it could possibly be a death blow to
religious beliefs to find out not every sentient creature was designed
in your image or the image of the god you worship. That wasn’t
the real reason. The real reason was, if you released the
information to the public, they would’ve been rioting in the streets
demanding to share the benefits of your discovery of a cheap energy
source, and the oil companies would have had to close their doors
except for basic production of lubricants. Instead, you chose to
minimalize people’s sighting and beliefs in UFOs and make fun of
them. They became thought of in the public consciousness as a
lunatic fringe. If they were onto something or getting too close
for comfort you sent your men to threaten them. You even murdered
many to shut them up or to keep them from going renegade and telling
what they knew.
The oil
companies were too big. They would never allow information
about a cheaper energy source to be shared by the masses. Like
your religions, big corporations never were about the betterment of
mankind, they were about control, money and greed of the few over
the many. Men who invented viable alternative energy sources were
murdered and their inventions destroyed by the utilities and big oil
companies. No one has ever been brought to justice for their
murders. The oil companies sucked your people dry for decades
until the crash of 08 and 09 when the bottom fell out and they priced
themselves out of the market. They tried to rally, but they went
the way of the dinosaurs. Enter the era of the entrepreneur, but
that’s another story.
Your government
pumped trillions of tax payer dollars into black-ops programs for damn
near fifty years, half a century, to develop a secret space program
from information and technology gained from crashed gray’s and a couple
of snake’s craft. You entrusted it to a secret branch of your
military and a couple of private corporations. It was overseen by
a dozen men appointed by Eisenhower. Few knew about it, but in
his parting speech Eisenhower warned the American people about the
potential for excess and abuse by the military-industrial
complex. Everyone thought he was trying to warn of a broader,
wider application. He wasn’t. He was trying to warn against
the secret spending for black-op’s programs. He was a wise enough
man and leader he saw the potential for gross abuse.
Five presidents
were never told about the program. They never knew it
existed. It was an independent government operating within your
government; a governmental chimera, if you will. JFK didn’t
know about the program, but his people were smart enough to suspect
something very wrong was going on in their country, and since they were
in power, they had a right to find out. He planned to cut all
black-op’s funding until he was informed of where the money was
going. They killed him. They knew Bobby Kennedy would do
the same. They killed him, too.
During the
sixties and seventies NASA was created as a plausible alternative for
the space race and cover for the real space program. They worked
as a natural progression of technological evolution without the
advanced knowledge of the crashed ships. Some successes of NASA
were staged productions, others weren’t. They actually landed one
craft on the moon, but when they got there the astronauts from the
secret space program were there to welcome them. They had a big
party on the moon. It was a big joke among the astronauts.
After the last Apollo mission the government cut back drastically on
space exploration and concentrated more on the space station which had
more corporate appeal and applications. It ran through the first
decade of the next century until the financial crash cut out the
program altogether.
No one actually
knew about the secret space program until G. W. Bush took over.
Somehow he got wind of it; some think it was from his dad who had close
ties with key players in the Majestic group, but by that time it was
too late. Bush and Cheney pushed for information about the secret
space program, but they were already too strong and too independent an
organization. For all practical purposes, they were a functioning
governmental body unto themselves. They didn’t need the federal
government anymore. They laughed at him and told him even as a
self-declared president for life, or as they put it, a little tin-horn
banana republic style dictator, he didn’t have a security clearance
high enough to be privy to such information.
As I understand
it, they went so far as to tell him he didn’t have the intelligence to
understand their mission anyway. It was considerably more
complicated than ‘My Pet Goat.’ Why should they waste their time
trying to explain something to a man who majored in ‘cheerleading’ in
college and they considered to have an IQ slightly lower than a
radish? Bush wasn’t used to being told ‘no.’ He threw a
temper tantrum like a chimpanzee what was denied a banana and tried an
end run around them. He tried to cut off their funding, but it
was so deeply embedded in many other facets of pork barrel funding
legislation, he couldn’t. It was like a malignant tumor that sent
tendrils into the deepest parts of the body. He sent troops to
take over. The weapons of the secret space program were so
advanced they simply wiped out any attempt he made and thousands of
troops were slaughtered because of his stupidity and megalomania.
He even ordered nuclear strikes on their facilities, but to his
everlasting embarrassment and their credit, his military refused to
attack targets within their own county.
The mainstream
media never heard about it. There was absolutely nothing he could
do, because to bring the top military brass up on charges he had to
tell what happened. He was afraid to push them too far. He
was basically a coward and was afraid of a military coup. Imagine
the embarrassment to Bush and the federal government if they had to
admit they didn’t know about a secret project which was going on right
under their noses and being funded at the cost of trillions of dollars
for almost half a century. To make matters worse, they were left
holding an empty bag; they had nothing to show for it. The secret
organization of highly placed military and civilian people founded
their own government, and had fully functional bases on the moon no one
knew about. They evacuated their personnel, their families,
destroyed any evidence and all information on the project. There
wasn’t so much as a scrap of paper left to prove there was any program
of the kind. So you had your own salvation within your grasp, and
your government let it sail away. You have your predecessor to
thank for that.”
“Where did they
go?” asked Scudder.
“They ultimately
launched ships from the moon to carry them to another inhabitable world
in the Andromeda galaxy. We still use some of their
facilities. They back engineered and developed space warp
technology. Even with limited warp capabilities it still would
take them a couple of years to get there. I’m sure they’ve
arrived by now. They saw how the future was going on Earth and
decided to take their chances on another world; just like we plan to
do. Oh, and just for the record, much to the dismay of the
military types they founded a rock solid ultra liberal democracy.
They outlawed any and all religious practices and left all myths behind
them on Earth.”
“For God’s sake,
man, I’m begging you, help us!” Scudder pleaded.
“Oh, come,
now! Let’s be honest. It’s not for God’s sake you ask,
Norman, but for your own sake. You’re the big H.P., the Holy
Prophet, do your thing. You’re asking the wrong man. I
don’t believe in your imaginary friend. Why would you invoke his
name to tickle a response from me? Take your red phone and dial
his number. Hello central, give me heaven. You and your
kind are like the handwriting on the wall, you have been weighed in the
balance and found wanting. Now, you must face the consequence of
many years of incredibly stupid and morally bankrupt leadership.
You and Bush took a once great nation and reduced it to a corporate
dictatorship. Bottom line, Norman, we won’t help you. We
got enough on our plates trying to save as much as we can without
worrying about your worthless ass.”
“How much longer
do we have?” Scudder asked quietly like he was resigned to his fate.
“Five years
max, maybe less. We just don’t know. There are variables
involved we can’t predict.” Jesse replied.
“Is there
anything we can do that might make you change your minds?” Scudder
asked.
“What part of
‘too late’ don’t you understand, Norman?” Jesse asked softly with a
smile. “I’ve answered your question, but now I gotta’ run,
Norman. I wish you luck. I’d really like to see you pull
off a miracle. I hope your imaginary friend hears you and comes
down to smite the evil do’ers with his terrible swift sword, but I
ain’t gonna’ hold my breath. In the meantime, you might
wanna’ consider having Jones’ baby. We’ll take him or her with
us. At least your child would go out into the universe.
That would be some legacy for you. As it is, your name will soon
be forgotten as too distasteful for people of reason to remember.”
Jesse told him.
“Ain’t you
afraid it would be the Devil’s spawn you carry with you?” Scudder asked
in a nasty voice.
“Naw, there
ain’t no such thing as the Devil, unless you wanna’ consider the
parasitic races like the grays and snakes as such; many do. A
child is innocent and won’t become contaminated with the garbage you
believe. His daddy will raise him as a free thinking secular
humanist, a child of the
universe.” Jesse assured him. Surprisingly, it was something
Scudder already thought seriously about, but to hear Jesse urge him to
consider it broke something within him.
“Do it!” he
barked. “Gotdamn it, just do it!”
“Are you sure,
Norman?” Jesse smiled. “Nothing should be decided on the whim of a
passionate moment.”
“If that were
the case most of us wouldn’t be here right now.” Scudder shot back.
“Touche,’
Norman. Good point. I jes’ don’t think you should do
something you might regret later.”
“I know what I’m
doing. I’m sure. I’m more sure about it than any decision
I’ve ever made in my life. Just do it before I have a chance to
think about it and change my mind.” he barked.
“There will be
blood.” Jesse smiled.
“I don’t
care. I don’t give a damn. It will be worth it to have
Brett Jones’ baby. He’s the only person in my sorry life I’ve
allowed myself to love as an equal, but I know I can’t hold on to
him. I lost him the day you saved his life. I knew I would,
but that was all right. I was willing to let him go to save
him. At least I have him for a while. I love Austin
Taycious as a my little brother, but he ain’t no lover. Any
chance you’d take my little brother with you? He didn’t deserve
the life he’s had to live. I’d like to see him get another chance
for a better life.” Scudder pleaded in an uncharacteristic display of
charity.
“We’ll consider
it. He don’t have a great track record after what you and he done
to Tim Kelly. I won’t promise. We’ll keep an eye on him,
and if he redeems himself we jes’ might reconsider. In the
meantime, if you’re ready here we go: Salagadoola mechicka boola
bibbidi-bobbidi-boo!” exclaimed Jesse and a bright light flashed from
his ubiquitous staff he carried with him everywhere and surrounded
Scudder from the tip of his toes to the top of his head. Scudder
felt very strange. He knew his internal organs were
rearranged to accommodate a womb and god only knows what other plumbing
horrors. He didn’t care. He mean what he said. He
would not allow himself (herself?) to have any thoughts of
regret. Jesse let him retain his outwardly male appearance.
After all he was still the Holy Prophet and leader of the so-called
free world.
“There, Norman,
you’re fully loaded. Now all you need is to be cocked.” Jesse
grinned.
After further
goodbyes and telling Jones and Hawkins they were looking forward to
their visit, in another flash of light, Jesse and Utah were gone.
Scudder smiled at Brett Jones. Jones went to him, took him into
his arms and gently kissed Scudder on his forehead.
“You really love
me that much, Holy Father?” he asked.
“Sure I
do. I figured it was the only way to prove just how much I love
you.”
“I can’t stay
behind, Sir.” Jones said gently.
“I know. I
won’t ask. I wouldn’t want you to. I didn’t save your life
the first time to ask you to give it up now. I’ll expect you to
get our child to safety.” he conceded. “Oh, and by the way, when we’re
in private, cut the Holy Father crap. Call me Jerry. No, on
second thought, you and only you, call me Norman, Son.”
“I understand,
Sir. I’ll call you that with great affection.” Jones said.
“Oh, and we
won’t mention anything about what just happened to Austin, will
we? I’ll tell him when I’m ready.” Scudder asked the men.
“Certainly not,
Norman.” Jones smiled at him. Scudder smiled and nodded his head
like he enjoyed hearing Jones call him that. Scudder knew the men
were anxious to be off on their holiday. He dismissed them, told
them to have a good time, enjoy themselves and sent them on their way.
“Wow, my buddy’s
on a first name basis with the big H.P.! Way to go, stud!”
Hawkins threw his big arm over Brett’s shoulder and tickled him with
his free hand. Jones laughed and jumped. Hawkins continued,
“Do you think he has ulterior motives, Brett?” they were on their way
back to Jones’ apartment.
“Is the Pope a
drag queen with poor taste?” asked Brett, “Of course, he always has
other motives, but I think this time it’s bigger than his usual
conniving. It’s his last hope to leave something of himself
behind. What better way than to send his child into the
universe. My problem is, how am I gonna’ break this to my mate?”
“Shame on you,
Brett. I think you underestimate, Basil.” Hawkins admonished
him. “I think a more important worry is what will it be?” Hawkins
raised a questioning eyebrow.
“A boy.” grinned
Brett knowing full well what his commander was getting at.
Hawkins just shook his head and grinned.
* * * * * * *
The first couple
of times Jones and Hawkins were picked up and taken back to the
colonies for a little R and R, Olafson, or Tex, was miserable the
entire time they were gone. The third time they were getting
ready to leave he begged Hawkins and Jones to take him with them.
They told him they didn’t think he would fit in with the people and
probably wouldn’t like the place very much because there were a lot a
cowboys there. Jones sadistically threw in that line, because he
knew it would only whet Olafson’s interest. Sven ran to his room
and returned only minutes later as his new persona, Tex Olafson, with a
back pack of personal items ready to go. Commander Hawkins
cleared it with Admiral Long the last time he and Brett spent time in
the colonies. If Delbert and Brett vouched for the man, Lazarus
had no problem with them bringing him along, but his buddies weren’t
going to make it easy for him. They played good guy, bad guy with
him.
“No, I jes’
don’t think it’s a good idea, Del. You know he can’t keep his
damn mouth shut about nothing. How do you think he got the
nickname ‘Elda Furry? You know damn well it ain’t because he’s
hirsute. Ain’t a hair on his body, cep’n his pits and between his
legs, and that’s so blond and thin, if’n it weren’t for his size, he’d
look like a ten year old from the waist down.” Jones played the bad
guy. Poor Tex cringed at his buddy’s harsh words. They were
somewhat true but certainly over exaggerated.
“Give the kid a
break, Brett. He saved your ass in Cleveland two weeks ago.”
Hawkins pleaded aggressively.
“Yeah, but he
ain’t got no concept of the world we visit. If he learns certain
things, and you know what I’m talking about, he could blab to the wrong
people, and we’d be done for. Our comfortable little world would
come crashing down around us. It’s jes’ too big a chance to
take.” Jones was adamant and shook his head.
“I won’t say
nothing, Brett! I swear I won’t tell nobody. I promise,
whatever you men are afraid of, I can be trusted. I was an Eagle
Scout. I was in the Loyal Order of the Arrow. I know how to
keep secrets. Lord knows I kept enough of ‘em around this
place. I ain’t no gossip like you claim. I don’t even know
who the hell Elda Furry is.” Olafson defended himself.
“Well, if he
tells we can always... you know....?” Hawkins almost laughed.
“Oh, God, I
wouldn’t wanna’ do that to the poor kid, Del. Who knows, he jes’
might wanna’ use that damn thing one day for some’um 'sides a
hatrack.” Jones giggled. Poor Olafson had no idea what they were
talking about, but it didn’t sound good. He groaned.
“Look at him,
Brett! Ain’t nothing more pathetic than a cowboy all dressed up
with no place to go. Have mercy. Take pity on the
kid. I know you to be a man of compassion.” Hawkins passionately
pleaded.
“Oh, all right,
but you have to take a solemn oath whatever you witness, what we share
with you, whatever strange things you see, or places we take you will
remain our secret.” Jones demanded of him.
They had him
repeat some silly garbage of an oath that sounded like something Dr.
Seuss might write. They made him stand on one leg, pull on his
right ear and go “Toot! Toot!” after everything he swore to. When
he protested they just asked him if he wanted to go or not? He
went along with their nonsense. Jones and Hawkins could barely
keep a straight face. They were in Jones’ apartment in the temple
guard compound. When they finished, Hawkins asked if he was ready
to go, and Tex started for the door. They called him back and put
their arms over each others shoulders and told him to do the same.
“There’s a
better way to get where we’re going, cowboy. Close your eyes,
and bow your head.” Hawkins commanded. Olafson did as he was
told. He thought they were still playing with him. They
were standing close together with their head’s
bowed. Jones was about to lose it.
“Oh, Grand
Wizard, we speak the sacred words, ‘Omma Bamma Lamma
Terramasue.’”chanted Hawkins, “We’re ready to be taken aboard your
magic chariot, oh wise and benevolent one.” there was a great flash of
pure white light, and they were aboard the Buttercup.
“You can open
your eyes now, Tex.” Jones told him. Olafson’s eyes got real big
as he looked around.
“Oh, my God, I’m
on a spaceship!” he exclaimed.
“How do you
know?” Hawkins asked him.
“This is the
same spaceship I seen in my dreams. I told you and Brett about
my dreams. You never listen to me. You always shine me
on. In my dreams I become a pilot of one just like this.”
“Welcome aboard
the Buttercup, Tex. I’m Captain Waco Goodnight.” Waco stuck
out his hand to take Olafson’s and shake it. “Grand Wizard,
indeed! You guys should be ashamed of yourself putting our
buckaroo buddy Tex, here, through that malarkey.” Waco grinned.
Hawkins and Jones were holding each other laughing.
“Thanks,
Sir. I figured they’s playing me for a fool. How did we get
on board this thing so fast?” he asked.
“It will all be
explained to you in time, Tex. In the meantime sit down and
relax. We’ll be home in a matter of minutes.” Waco invited him.
“Is there a ship
in your fleet called the ‘Badger,’ Captain Waco?” Tex asked.
“I don’t know,
there’s three hundred of ‘em. Many of ‘em ain’t been flown in
years. Can you check for us, Ms. Myra?” Waco asked his on-board
intelligence.
“Why, yes,
Captain Waco, Darlin,’ I’d be happy to. Yes, there is a
‘Badger.’
It’s the same series as the Buttercup. It’s sitting in dock
thirty-two. It hasn’t been used in ages.”
“And is the
on-board intelligence called Cactus Jack?” Tex Olafson asked.
“It is.” she
replied.
“How do you know
that, Olafson?” Hawkins demanded.
“My
dreams. I’ve been on one of these ships before, I swear to you.”
he was getting excited.
“Do you know
Cactus Jack, Ms. Myra?” Waco inquired.
“Of course I do,
honey. All us on-board folks keep each other company when we
ain’t on duty. I know Cactus Jack quite well. We’re members
of a bridge club together. We’ve won several tournaments.
Our avatars go dancing once a week. Cactus Jack is a fine looking
cowboy. He can do a mean Texas two-step, Texas Schottische
and the
Cotton eye’d Joe. He’s also very good at... well, you know,
sweetie.” she giggled.
“Can
avatars...?” Waco started to ask then stopped, “Never mind, don’t
tell me, I don’t wanna’ know. That’s more information than I
need, Ms. Myra.” Waco insisted.
“Why, Captain
Waco, if I’d never met you and didn’t know better, I might mistake you
for a prude. After all, we all share what you do for Captain
Vinceeth. We even keep a rating system on yours and the Captain’s
performances just like the Olympics. We all get a vote. You
almost got perfect tens across the board your first night together
except Anna Mae Wong of the 'Lotus' gave you a one point
deduction on your dismount.” Myra giggled like a school girl.
Hawkins and Jones broke up. Olafson figured it was an ‘in’ joke,
but it sounded funny and he laughed anyway.
“Never
mind. I don’t wanna’ know about that either.” said Waco as he
turned a bright red. Myra laughed again.
“Well, just for
the record, honey, we told that Chinese bitch we thought she was being
petty.” Ms. Myra laughed wickedly.
“Oh,
gees...whatever!” Waco groaned, then quickly changed the subject. “Do
you know the name of our mother ship, Tex?” Waco probed.
“Let’s
see. I ain’t had the dream for a while now, Sir, but I think it
starts with a ‘B’... ‘Banshee’? No that ain’t right, it’s from
Louis Carroll’s Jabberwocky. Let’s see, ‘Beware the Jubjub bird,
and shun the frumious Bandersnatch!’ That’s it! That’s the
name! The Bandersnatch.” he said with conviction.
“Amazing.” said
Lucas Long, Captain Waco’s number one.
“It’s coming
back to me; all of it. I know who you are.” Tex said to
Lucas. “You’re Lucas Long, Admiral Long’s son, Captain Waco’s
number one, and in my dream I had a number one named... named.... what
was his name... he was an American Indian and was Captain Waco’s
slave....‘Rabbit’... no, that ain’t right.... his granddad, the chief,
changed his name to ‘Little Bear.’ There’s more, but it would be
too embarrassing for me to talk about. I think some dreams should
remain private and personal.” he said. They looked at him askance
like they didn’t know what to make of him. Hawkins and Jones were
dumbfounded.
The Buttercup
docked and Sven ‘Tex’ Olafson began to live his dream. The men
took him to Cable to be checked out and called for Lazarus to report to
sickbay. Cable didn’t know what they wanted him to do. The
man claimed to have dreams of a possible future. So what?
It wasn’t so rare these days. Cable reminded them Maxine reported
having some strange dreams of the future; strange, impossible dreams of
a star child, half man, half alien and his cybernetic boy-child.
Certainly Judge Potter had prophetic dreams. It was not unknown
for the Ancients to give glimpses of the future and set them afloat on
the winds of consciousness like Japanese water lights to see what shore
they might land on. It was sort of like a message in a
bottle. It depended on what shore it landed, who was the
recipient and what they did with the information as to the tide or turn
of the future. While it wasn’t fully understood, and seemed
random to the point of capriciousness, Cable reminded them there was a
pattern and purpose even in chaos.
Sometimes
prophetic dreams might come to those who know about such things, and
other times they might come to people like Tex Olafson who didn’t have
a clue. Children, especially prepubescent kids, we’re highly
receptive to the winds. Of course, shortly after puberty their
brains turn to an equal mixture of pablum and cottage cheese, then they
were unable to think of anything but the zits on their face and their
sex organs for at least a decade. Lazarus came and talked with
Tex for a while and concluded Cable was correct. There was
nothing for them to examine. Stop all the nonsense and treat the
young man like you would any new guest. It was at that moment Tex
Olafson became a devoted follower and disciple of Lazarus Long.
Scudder, the Holy City, and the Temple Guards be damned, he found a new
home and a new life for himself. He would never be left behind
again.
Waco and Lucas
joined Brett Jones, Basil Troubadour and Commander Hawkins to take Tex
around and show him the wonders of the several colonies. He
smiled and was quite accepting and comfortable with Waco’s huge lummox
slave and had no problem with human/lummox bondings. He was
delighted by Keekepata and her courtiers. He was duly impressed
by Waco’s suitor and the other Visallian warriors who were partnered
with Lucas Long and Travis Jessup. He took the Kryscellians in
stride and found them enchanting. He took going from place to
place by the gates as second nature to him. Tex didn’t seem to be
as wowed as many who experienced them for the first time. It was
almost like he was watching an old movie he’d seen many times and was
only paying partial attention to the high points. He seemed to be
waiting for something or looking for someone among all the new critters
and faces.
After checking
with Ms. Ida Mae, Waco invited the three officers from the Holy City
and Basil for supper at the big house. The day was coming to an
end and they went through the gate to the barn onto the Goodnight
ranch. They came out of the barn and the slave cowboys, Lazarus,
Charlie, Travis and Little Bear were walking their horses back to the
barn. Lazarus had his arm around Travis and was talking with him
as they walked. Charlie had his arm around Little Bear, and they
were talking. The men were dirty. They were roping,
cutting and branding cattle all afternoon. They were dressed in
their full
cowboy gear and covered in dirt. Their faces were completely
covered with dust except for their faces where their bandanas covered
their mouths and noses. Little Bear looked up and saw the most
handsome cowboy he ever saw. He saw the man of his dreams
standing next to his master and his brother Lucas. Charlie heard
from Lazarus about Tex Olafson and his dreams when he returned after
being called away earlier in the day. He anticipated this, saw
what was happening, took the reins to Little Bear’s Indian pony he
loved so well and spoke quietly.
“Go to him,
Son. I hear’d rumors he’s waited all day to meet only one
person.” Charlie said like a father. Little Bear didn’t need to
be told twice. He was on a dead run to get to Tex Olafson.
The last few feet he hit his knees and slid to the feet of the big man
like a major league baseball player would steal home plate, and began
to pay homage to Tex’s big boots. Tex was so taken with his
actions he didn’t wait to perform the ritual. He knew the
ritual. Hawkins and Jones made him go over it numerous times
until his got it right. He simply reached down with his massive
arms and pulled Little Bear up to him, held him off his feet, rested
him
on his enormous chest and began to kiss him like he was the long lost
lover of his dreams. Little Bear returned his kiss in kind.
Everyone stood in awe and silence at what they were witnessing.
“I’ve waited all
day to meet you. They showed me everything, but there was only
one person I wanted to see.” he finally told Little Bear.
“Welcome, Master
Tex, to our world. What took you so long?” Little Bear
stole another kiss.
“All I know is,
with your master’s kind permission, I will never have to dream about
you again.” said Tex putting Little Bear down to the ground to look at
the handsome but dirty face of the Indian cowboy who haunted his dreams
for so many years. A little dirt didn’t matter to Tex.
Clean or dirty, Little Bear was the most handsome young man he ever
encountered inside his dreams or out. “That ain’t quite true, neither.”
continued Tex, “I will always dream of you when you ain’t near me.” he
said with all the love in his heart. The other men
gathered had big smiles on their faces. Commander Hawkins and
Brett Jones were gobsmacked by their mate’s reaction to Little
Bear. Had they underestimated their brother officer? It was
such a poignant moment it screamed for comic relief and they all went,
“Awwwhhh....” Tex and Little Bear ignored them. They were
in a world unto themselves.
“There is none
like my master, Master Tex. Master Waco is kind and
generous. While I am his devoted slave, he is also ma’ blood
brother, but the manners I been taught by him and these good folks who
took me into their family and treated me as one of their own must be
respected and adhered to. You will have to seek his permission,
Sir.”
Tex turned while
still holding Little Bear in his arms to speak to Waco, but before he
could say anything Waco spoke to Little Bear.
“Tell you what,
little brother, you pay homage to your master’s boots and show him some
of yore’ devoted slave love, and it will be enough to buy you a ticket
to heaven for an evening with yore’ new buddy. He certainly looks
like he would have no problem git’n you there and back.” he laughed.
Little Bear
grinned real big, fell at Waco’s boots and began to make love to
them. He completed the ritual with his master and they gave each
other a kiss only those who know the true meaning of brotherhood might
understand. Waco got an erection and so did Little Bear.
They looked down at their crotches and laughed. The men laughed
with them.
“Oh, fuck,
little brother! That was worth several nights for sure.” laughed
Waco. Everyone laughed at him and Little Bear.
“Thank you,
Captain Waco. Your generosity is greatly appreciated.” said Tex.
“Somehow, I got
me a feeling it will be ‘greatly’ appreciated by both you men.” Waco
laughed and the other men joined him.
Little Bear,
Travis, Waco and Lucas took the four horses, unsaddled them, wiped them
down and fed them. The rest of the men went off to the big house
to clean up for supper. Tex stayed with Little Bear and his
brothers and began to absorb the routine menial life of a cowboy
slave. He wanted to know everything and asked many
questions. He even took a rag and helped wipe the horses and
brush them afterward. He was impressed, while having a horse for
transportation may have a certain romance about it, you couldn’t just
drive it somewhere and park it. It was a living animal who
required a cowboy’s love and attention. He never before
considered the work require to keep them sound, fit and
comfortable. No wonder cowboys got the reputation of loving their
horses first and all others second, Tex considered. They invest a
great deal of time and affection on them. They finished in little
time, because when there were chores to be done on the Goodnight
Ranches, everyone pitched in to help.
They walked
together to the big house and Tex went with the men to clean up.
For the first time in his life, Sven Olafson felt like a genuine
cowboy. For all the advanced, other worldly, fascinating wonders
of the colonies, Sven knew he had to experience more of the cowboy
life. He was determined to earn his cognomen ‘Tex.’ There
was something about the lifestyle that appealed to him on a retrograde
basis. It was a return to a more simple and less complicated
time. He suspected it was the single most important thing that
united and held together all the people and critters of such varied
pasts. The one thing that stuck him most was everything at the
ranch and in the colonies ran at a slower pace. No one was in any
hurry to get something done or get someplace. Everyone took their
time to do a job right or enjoy the experience of going somewhere
together. They took time to live with and love those around
them. It was a far cry from the insanity of the Holy City.
Compared to what he was experiencing in the colonies, Washington D. C.
was more like Holy Hell.
Waco offered Tex
and Little Bear a room at the Two Meadows Inn on the Buttercup.
It was run by Jack and Buck Hall and was situated on their large ranch,
the Lazy B. Warren and Horse were sort of
wranglers for the Inn and took care of the many critters who visited
from time to time. They also took care of the horses the guests
used for trail riding. Waco kept his older Shire horses in the
meadows which he entrusted to their care. Jack and Buck brought
in some decorators from the all male colony who went crazy with Western
and Southwest themes. The rooms were very comfortable and
functional. The Inn was a great favorite with the pups and most
of Waco’s cowboy brothers. They preferred the privacy and quiet
solitude of the Inn over the hustle and bustle of the crowds who went
to the lodge at Mars port. Jesse and Utah could often be found at
the Inn. They became great friends will Jack, Buck and the
Steeles. It was also a great favorite of the human/lummox bonded
couples, because they had special rooms with extra large beds to
accommodate the lummox large sizes. Jack and Buck originally
built small apartments for Warren off their two manager’s houses on the
Buttercup and the land Lazarus set aside for a hotel on the
Bandersnatch, but after Warren met Horse he needed a bigger place.
Jack and Buck
built a small separate house for Horse and Warren with high ceilings so
Horse wouldn’t have to stoop. The doors were made larger,
too. They lived at the Inn most of the time, took care of it when
Jack and Buck were away managing the other hotel on the
Bandersnatch. Horse and Warren didn’t venture forth too much now
that Warren was in the final days of his pregnancy. He was as big
as the side of a barn. Everyone predicted it would be the largest
bairn born to a human male on record. Arlen Jones was staying
with Lazarus for the last few days of Warren’s pregnancy and Cable was
on call. Sonny Steele was like an old mother hen dropping by to
visit his dad and sit with him. Vivian Steele was having great
fun, but was compassionate with Warren. They spent many hours
laughing and exchanging whispers behind poor Sonny’s back. Vivian
told Warren she thought they should get their own big lummox; then
Sonny could experience the joy of childbirth like his dad; or, if he’d
rather, she wouldn’t mind loaning him out to Horse for studding.
Sonny laughed at their nonsense but didn’t appreciate the idea very
much.
The only one who
wasn’t concerned was Warren. Warren wasn’t worried in the
least. He was looking forward to it. He couldn’t
wait. Once he gave birth and Horse took over, Warren was free to
get knocked up again by his huge, lummox husband. He laughed and
told Jack and Buck he planned to stay in a perpetual state of pregnancy
for several years. Warren and Horse planned for their next bairn
to be a human boy child, and if they could get Buck’s permission and
cooperation, they
were going to ask Jack Hall to be the third father or sperm
donor. The bairn would essentially be almost an exact copy of
Jack with a less than ten percent variant ratio. One or two
percent lummox and eight to nine percent human variant DNA from
Warren. Buck had no problem with it, but stipulated he had to be
there when his husband impregnated Warren, and they wanted to be named
as godparents. Warren and Horse agreed. They planned to ask
them to be the boy’s godparents anyway.
Tex and Little
Bear wasted no time getting to know each other better. While
Little Bear loved his master Waco, Master Charlie, and of course Master
Angus, he never met the man of his dreams. He was tempted to try
a couple of fine looking Visallian warriors who took a shine to him,
but never developed into anything. They were fine men, but they
just didn’t have what Little Bear was looking for. He couldn’t
define just what ‘it’ was he was looking for, but he knew in his heart
he would recognize the man when he came along. Little Bear never
fooled himself he would become Master Waco’s mate or anyone else’s
around the ranch. The man who came closest to what he was looking
for in a mate was Angus Goodnight, but only as a prototype.
Little Bear
never deceived himself into believing there could ever be anything more
than what he shared with Angus. He knew his relationship with
Master Angus was one of a deep love and respect for a man and master
who represented the father figure he never had and always wanted.
That was enough for Little Bear. He listened to and heeded Angus’
advice. Little Bear shared the secrets of his heart with the big
cowboy. In some ways Angus was more generous with Little Bear
than he was with Shane, but there was never any doubt in either of
their minds just how they fit together and why. Angus loved
Little Bear like a son and treated him that way. Little Bear
idolized Angus like a revered father and gave of himself in the same
manner.
Whatever gaps
there might have been in Little Bear’s and Angus’ relationship were
completed by a host of other good men on the Goodnight ranch.
Little Bear developed strong relationships with Charlie and Lazarus and
to some extent Hank Morgan, but he wasn’t sharing sex with these men on
a regular basis. The only man he was responsible for in that
department was his master, and Waco was mostly involved with his
Visallian warrior. Waco would still throw a mean fuck into him
after a good football game or when he was hurting for some cowboy
loving, but Little Bear came to look on them as little more than
victory or mercy fucks.
Tex Olafson, on
the other hand, was the tall, Nordic god Little Bear always envisioned
coupling with as a partner. Ever since he was a kid and had a
coloring book about Vikings he locked in on the image of the tall,
strong, stalwart men as his ideal of hyper-masculinity and that image
was burned into his young impressionable mind. Little Bear
substituted his sexual identifications of male parental love, which
would’ve ordinarily been placed on a father, on his imaginary role
model. He still had that old coloring book. When his dad
sold him into slavery, one of his grandmothers found it, saw how
carefully and lovingly the figures were colored, and put it away for
him. It was one of his most cherished possessions. He could
remember one of the biggest and finest looking looked exactly like Tex
Olafson. He remembered getting erections as a young boy coloring
the picture of the big, handsome man; it felt like more to him than
just the physical act of coloring; he was trying to bring the
cartoon-like character to life; when he finished, he would take his
penis in his hand and color it the same color as his Viking hero.
He dreamed of
such a man, tall and strong coming to take him away on his big Viking
ship to make him his lover; to take from him what he needed as his due
and not just because he simply loved Little Bear like his very own
son. He would sometimes have to beg other men to fuck him the way
he needed, but Little Bear knew in his heart his Viking would already
know what he needed and without question take it from him.
He would take all he needed to satisfy himself and in turn satisfy his
boy. It was a tall order for any man to fill and would probably
intimidate the crap out of most any other man, but Tex Olafson
was no ordinary man. He had the right peg for the right hole, and
he knew the importance to his partner he should take what he needed
while being a patient and
considerate lover.
Tex had his own
dreams, but they just happened to coincide with Little Bear’s.
Them damn Ancients and Voices were tap dancing overtime. One
might have thought they were doing a remake of ‘Flying Down To Rio’
their antics were so bizarre. After their heroics with the
whales, all the cowboys were experiencing the fulfillment of many of
their most precious dreams. The Ancients were on a mission to
shape
Little Bear into the leader they wanted him to be and knew Tex Olafson
was the very spirit and embodiment of the strong, stalwart Viking hero
leader Little Bear needed. The more Little Bear got to know the
man, the more he was convinced Tex was sent to him to become the master
of his heart, but he had the strangest impulse when he was around the
big man. He had an almost uncontrollable erotic desire to get a
box of crayons and color him, along with his own penis.
Buck Hall sensed
there was something special going on between Little Bear and his new
friend he just met. Waco brought them to the Buttercup after
dinner to get them a room. Since Tex and his mates would be
staying in the colonies for a couple of weeks, Buck conferred with his
husband and told him he wanted to put them in the old apartment where
Warren used to stay. It was rarely used anymore and would be a
perfect hangout for them. Jack grinned. He knew what Buck
was up to. He’d come to know his mate so well he didn’t ask
questions anymore. He instinctively knew it was the right thing
to do, but Buck never took an initiative without consulting his husband
first. That’s the way Jack wanted it. For all practical
purposes,
Buck became Jack’s slave without the legal trappings. It just became
an unspoken agreement between them, and that’s the way they liked
it. Some men just aren’t comfortable in life unless they’re
serving the wants and needs of another man and preferably a strong
willed man who isn’t afraid to admit it’s exactly what he expects from
his mate.
Jack found his perfect match in Buck; something he
could never find in a woman. Jack wasn’t a misogynist; he just
found the women he dealt with had less loyalty than a female
Badger in heat. In Buck, Jack found a totally devoted mate who
never questioned his husband about anything. The very strangest
thing was, Jack always took Buck into consideration before making any
decision. He would feel Buck out for his opinion. Sometimes
he
would go with Buck’s idea, other times not, but his decision was
final. Once Jack made a decision, it was never discussed
again. Jack knew Buck developed his own unique sensitivities and
had a soft spot in his heart for lovers. Buck was so much in love
with Jack he sometimes thought his heart would burst. Being a
stoic cowboy, Jack never talked much about love. While he was the
ultimate pragmatist, Jack never deceived himself; he knew his heart
would come to a complete halt without Buck by his side.
Buck gave Waco
the key to the apartment. He went with them to open it and show
them around. It was a small place with only one bedroom, but had
a huge bed. There was a nice, large bath, a small efficiency
kitchen and a rather large living area with a raised Southwest adobe
style fireplace to make it cozy and romantic on chilly nights. It
also boasted a Jacuzzi on the patio. It was just the private,
secluded place two cowboys needed to get acquainted. Buck checked
everything out to make sure it was properly stocked and all the
equipment worked. Everything seemed to be fine. Buck and
Waco left Tex and Little Bear alone. It was a long weekend for
Little Bear. Waco relieved him of all cowboy responsibilities so
he could entertain his new friend and show him more wonders of Mars and
Venus. No one heard from them for three days and nights.
They took their meals in the small, informal dining room for guests
staffed day and night by androids from Mars port; that is, when they
bothered to get out of bed long enough to eat. The androids were
always happy to see them. They would go out of their way to
prepare anything they wanted, because they didn’t get many people in
their dinning room. Everyone was going to Mars port or
Venus. The only reports to their friends were from Jack and Buck
who said they were fine, for everyone not to worry and leave them
alone. They jokingly told everyone they caught them several times
gathering sticks, leaves and bits of twine to build a nest.
The third night
they were interrupted by the sound of many voices talking
quietly. A knock came at the door. It was Jack and Buck
telling them Warren had gone into labor and would be delivering his
bairn in a matter of hours. Since the birth of a new bairn was a
big social event they were invited to attend. Tex and Little Bear
got dressed and went to the barn where Horse made a nest for them
and spread old quilts on top of the hay. There must have been a
couple of hundred people and critters of all kinds standing around,
sitting in the lofts, some just sitting on bales of hay, but everyone
quiet and considerate awaiting the blessed event. Cable and
Captain Arlen Jones were there to assist if needed but things seemed to
be going along normally. Warren looked radiant. Cable,
David and Jonathan already cleaned him thoroughly and they were
only waiting for his water to break. Little Bear explained to Tex
about the impending delivery, but he just couldn’t believe a human male
could give birth. When he saw the size of Warren he began to
think otherwise. He would either give birth to something or
explode.
Warren was lying
naked in his big husband’s massive furry arms. He had one of the
light metal thermal sheets thrown over him to keep him warm and
comfortable, but it outlined every nook and cranny of his body.
There was one small pin spot aimed right at Warren’s crotch and it was
the only ambient light in the barn. It was strong enough if the
doctors needed to move in to help they would have plenty light to
work. Around the room there were about fifteen or twenty huge
lummox males including Captain Trong, his lummox sons, Strom, Kuluke,
T’kan, and Ox. The others were representatives from the lummox
families on Mars. Lazarus approved them coming through the gate
for such a special occasion. They were shy but glad to have the
honor and privilege of being included. Tex mentioned to Little
Bear he thought several were quite handsome creatures.
It was as if
Horse sensed his mate’s water was about to break, and he started the
lummox
ritual birthing song to bring his new son into the world, welcome him
to his new home in his second father’s pouch where he would live for
another six months. The lummox’s song became a call and answer
response. Horse would groan, rumble and grunt a phrase and the
other huge lummox males around the circle would respond by repeating
the same phrase. It became very hypnotic and put everyone into a
deeply relaxed state. It was meant to calm and encourage the
first birth father to let go and let the new bairn find his way to
life. They called for the young one to come forth; his time was
at
hand; it was time for him to start his new life; his birth father was
ready to give him life, and his loving and protective second father was
ready and waiting to receive him.
It was a very
moving moment for all gathered, because of the historical significance
of the ritual. It was the first time a new bairn was to be born
using the old rituals of birth that many thought had been lost to the
Volgorons. There were a couple of very old lummox like Strom who
remembered and taught the rest the songs. It moved many to tears
to see something so ancient measured in eons as the Volgoron birth
ritual being reenacted after so many years of abandonment.
Abandonment, not because of disuse or falling out of favor, but because
of the destruction of the race by the reptiles causing the Volgoron’s
to be scattered as seed across the universe by friendly races in hopes
some
would survive. The old ways were forgotten by subsequent
generations who were busy fighting to survive. Now they had a
place to gather (Mars, the colonies and to a lesser degree Earth) in
peace to recreate their society. Those who were scattered to
other worlds and lived for centuries as little more than wild animals
while still retaining many of their powers, shunned the inhabitants of
those worlds to live in solitude. They were slowly being brought
back into the fold of civilized lummox (Volgoron) society and working
with humans to better themselves.
The ritual birth
songs also had their effect on the expectant first-birth father.
Warren was transported by their songs into a euphoric state of
ecstasy. He didn’t feel Horse throw off the metal sheet that
flowed over his body like liquid mercury. His water broke and
gushed from his anus into the straw beneath him. He was clean so
only the clear fluid from the fetal sack came rushing forth.
Everyone was amazed to see Warren’s huge belly began to collapse like a
balloon losing its contents. When he was almost down to a
normal size, he felt the larger than normal bairn begin his descent
down his lower intestine track toward his sphincter. He wondered
if he would be ripped apart because it felt so big. He knew he
had never passed anything so large in his life, but the feeling was so
erotic he sprung a huge erection, and every other male, human or
critter
responded in kind. Warren thought irreverently, it felt like he
was fixing to take the biggest dump of his life, and so he was.
The bairn
crowned and began to emerge. Horse stopped his intoning and
allowed his brethren to continue softly without him. It was time
for him to catch his new son. Warren didn’t seem to suffer much
or grimace with pain. With one large push he expelled the rather
large bairn with the last of its amniotic fluid with a great
swoosh. Horse was there to catch the little fellow and wrapped
him in a fluffy towel to dry him. There were ‘oohs’ and ‘awws’
and some softly applauded at the sight of the new bairn. Horse
gave him to Warren who gently dried the small bairn and kissed
him. Suddenly, it was like a switch went on, and he came
to life. He raised his small head and moved his head around like
he was sniffing the air. His eyes were still closed, but he had
the scent capabilities of the best hunting dog and zeroed in on
supper. He began to squirm and move himself about in the towel as
Warren finished fluffing his bright golden fur.
He was about to
make a bee line for his second dad’s fur and do a sprint for his
teat. He was hungry and wanted his supper. Talk about
postpartum depression. Warren laughed later and said it was like
the young one told him, “Thanks for my birthday, Dad Warren. Had
a great time. I love ya’ and
all, but supper’s await’n, and I gotta’ git to it.” The gathered
crowd of witnesses watched in rapt attention as the young one looked
like he was doing the Australian crawl over his huge daddy’s abdomen to
his massive chest and began to suck Horse’s big teat. Poor Warren
thrown over and forgotten for a lummox smorgasbord. The bairn's
little belly began to
fill like a balloon. He would make ‘mmm’, gurgling and slurping
sounds like it was the best thing he ever tasted. Not only was
it good, it was also the first thing the newborn bairn ever
tasted.
He reminded Gil Morris of the sounds Homer Simpson makes when he
talks about food.
When he had his
fill he slowly turned and swam through his daddy’s furry sea to find
his new nursery. He dived in head first and could be seen moving
to the bottom of his new home. He didn’t bother to check out the
decor or furnishings. He was full, warm and comfortable. He
was home, found his bed and promptly went to sleep. Horse took
Warren into his big arms and gave him a kiss to thank him for their new
son. Everyone swooned. It was a powerful moment. The
birth ceremony was over, but before anyone had a chance to congratulate
Warren, Arlen Jones and Cable had him on an anti-grav Gurney and were
rushing him to sickbay on the Bandersnatch to check him out.
Everyone came to Horse to congratulate him and wish him well.
It was a
remarkable experience for everyone. Gil Morris and Bobby were
there along with his two bosses and Cole Jenkins. Gil figured if
he and Bobby were going to be a part of this new world they should
participate and come to know the ways of the folks they live
among. Over the months Essmee Fay became accepted and made
friends with the women of the Grange. They told her of some of
the miraculous things to expect and the beautiful, handsome naked
doctors in their clinic. She didn’t know if she could handle
that, but when Mary Gibbons told her she was on her death bed and Jesse
Watkins, Utah, Cable, David and Jonathon with the help of Captain Waco,
Shane and their cowboy brothers cured her of a deadly cancer, she
changed her mind. Essmee had a morbid fear of cancer and the
thought of being near doctors or healer-mons, nude or otherwise, who
might help her in case she needed them overcame her uneasiness about
optional clothing. After all, she rationalized, mankind started
out naked in a garden.
Vivian Steele
became good friends with Essmee. She invited her to her
father-in-law’s birthing and to everyone’s surprise she accepted.
She experienced some difficulties at first with naked bio-mechanical
men
checking her in the infirmary, but several of the ladies of the Grange
went with her. After the first visit she began to see the
benefits the Grange offered. She and Gil talked and since he
decided to cast his and Bobby’s lot in with the Grange, she decided she
would, too. She admitted to him she was very comfortable with her
new living arrangements and the old judge, Captain Shane and Cole were
very good to her. They treated her with utmost respect and
provided her with privacy. Shane, Cole and Bobby never failed to
pitch in and give her a hand if she needed it. The men were
teaching Bobby by example. After many conversations with Maxine
and Vivian Steel, she began to loosen up and went with the flow.
Nothing seemed to surprise her anymore. She was as impressed as
everyone else a man could give birth, but to her way of thinking, it
was about time; it was long overdue in her opinion.
The whole
experience was highly erotic to Tex and Little Bear. They
couldn’t get back to their apartment fast enough. There was a
trail of cowboy clothes from the front door, across the living area and
into the bedroom where they finally collapsed onto the bed, their
bodies
entwined together like the snakes of a Caduceus. Somehow, Tex
managed to completely penetrate his brave young Indian before they even
hit the bed and once again, to Little Bear’s consummate delight, his
Viking pirate king, his Norse god, took from him what he needed.
It just also happened to be what Little Bear needed.
End Chapter 59 ~
Waco’s Lummox
Copyright 2008 ~
Waddie Greywolf
All Rights
Reserved ~
Mail to:
waddiebear@yahoo.com