Date: Wed, 29 Jan 2014 17:41:05 -0800
From: sean@musclepla.net
Subject: "Winter Falls" Chap. 1 and 2

CHAPTER ONE

THE MAN was wrapped well for the dark, frigid cold. But still, it was
unbearable. In the distance he noticed a light.  It must be the Inn.

He pressed forward, laboring with every step. His body was freezing, and he
longed for the warmth of the light he pursued. Yet the Witches' Breath blew
him sideways. It was a terrible cold. But the cold wasn't the only thing
that drove him forward. What his eyes had seen-- he had seen the
unspeakable. The disgust. The abomination drove him forward. His name was
Cooper.


IF YOU were a Traveler, quietly hobbling down the path, there wouldn't be
much to recommend Gaeburn. If it weren't for the Inn, there'd really be no
reason at all to stop-- save, perhaps if you had need of a smith. Gaeburn's
smith was renowned in all the North Woods, for his quick and thorough work.

Perhaps, though, you might need some warmth and nourishment. The Inn would
be a good choice.

Mossystone Inn did a good work enticing travelers, especially this time of
the annum, when the sun hung low and the icy Witches' Breath (as locals
called it) blew hard and frigid. Yet it was early in the Cold Season, and
tonight the Inn hole up only two travelers, despite the frigid conditions
outside.

Other than the Inn and the smithy, Gaeburn held little else: a few stables,
a mill (which, actually also served as a small general store, selling a
limited amount of soft goods and sundry consumables) and a small Remover's
Chapel. Scattered around these edifices, throughout the dense wood, were
about a dozen and a half houses.

This dark, dry, quiet night, the lights from inside these houses barely
made it a few score feet, let alone to the main Traveler's Path. The Inn
provided the only visible light to any nighttime traveler who might happen
by. The golden warm light pierced the cold winter's night casting
contrasting lines of shadows and illumination.

All was quiet, inside and out, except for the Witches' Breath that moved
through the firs and rattled the occasional shutter. At the bar, three men
sat silently, each one nursing his spirits. The tender and innkeeper,
Orrin, stood behind the bar, methodically swirling his white rag inside one
of the tumblers, to erase every spot. Orrin placed the glass on the shelf
below the bar, and grabbed another newly-washed one, going to work on it
with the same mindlessness he applied to the previous ones. His eyes were
grey, his face leathered by the years. His belly advertised that he was
never one to turn down nourishment. His wavy, brownish-gray hair was long;
he found himself frequently pulling it behind his ear, but it never seemed
to stay.

On one wall a large, black, river rock fireplace barely kept up against the
Witches' Breath. The room glowed a dark orange from the fire and the oil
lamps that dotted the walls and open ceiling of the great room. Orrin
called it the great room, but in truth it held only four tables and four
booths on the walls. Not really great, in terms of size. But it did the
work. The bar was lit a bit more well-lit than the rest of the room.

Above the great room, two travelers slept soundly in their dark chambers,
both weary from their day's travel. Certainly, there wasn't enough noise
coming from below to disturb them. Even if there would be the occasional
outburst of laughter, the heavy beams and sturdy flooring that separated
the main floor from the Inn's guest rooms above usually kept the noises
confined to their own areas.

"Should be another five minutes, that's all," Orrin said quietly to his
three patrons.

Kug grunted, then took another swig of his beer. Old enough to be the
father of most of the others present, Kug was the village curmudgeon. His
wispy grey hair was never combed. His crooked fingers seemed older than the
rest of him, and that was saying something. His walk was partially stooped,
usually with shuffling feet. Despite being active many score years ago as a
soldier to the Mon, his youthful strength-- and any image of health-- had
all but left his now-tattered body. Wrinkles creased deeply into his face.

"What is it tonight?" Redd, the man in the middle, asked.

"Tuber soup with cucumber peas and wild beets," Orrin answered.

"And the bread..." the Constable added. It wasn't obvious if he was making
a statement, or looking for confirmation. He needn't have said
anything. Orrin's bread was known across the North Woods, and you didn't
get out of the Inn without some.

The men were hungry. Perhaps that was one reason for the quiet-- not that
any of them were particularly talky. That just wasn't the way for a man to
be. But, possibly, the mix of spirits and warm food would loosen their jaws
soon.

Perhaps not.

In recent days, times being what they were, conversation too often drifted
to the Conflicts, the rumors of evil, or some such unpleasant topic. It was
often just easier to not talk, just to minimize the chance that things get
negative. There was way too much negative in recent days.

"Here ye go," a motherly voice announced. Agathata, a portly woman of
middle age, steadied a large tray filled with three bowls of soup, and
three loaves of bread, as she exited the small cooking area.

"That's my baby," Constable Kierk, the one on the end, beamed. "Bring the
food to daddy."

"You'll be waitin' till the end, Constable, if your hands reach so much as
a knuckle over the bar," Agathata said with a stern nod.

The Constable retracted, feigning coyness. Once Agathata had served all
three, he stood quickly, leaned across the bar, and planted a wet one on
Agathata's cheek. It was met with a slap on the hand, and a burst of
laughter from the others.

Upstairs, one of the travelers rolled over in his sleep.

"We be thirstier than Scrablers looking for Legger's blood," Redd
complained to Orrin.

"Ain't no Scrabler hunting for blood from a Legger the likes of you," Kug
grunted.

"Aw Kug," Redd smiled, "my blood be as sweet as the next man's."

"You flatter yourself," Kug said as his mug touched his lips once again, to
get the last drop.

Orrin took the mugs and pulled some more beer for all three. Just as he sat
the last mug back in front of it's drinker, the front door burst open with
a whoosh and in rushed Cooper. He said nothing, as the four men and
Agathata stared at him.

"Close the hell-cursed door!" Kug barked. "You'll freeze the soup before it
hits our lips!"

"That, and Agathata's tits before I get the chance to rub `em down!"
Constable Kierk laughed.

The men at the bar laughed too; Agathata took a hand-towel and flicked it
down on top of the Constable's head. Cooper turned around and closed the
door. He rubbed his gloved hands together as he moved toward the
others. "Can you pull some spirits for me?" he asked Orrin, even before
removing his winter wraps.

Orrin drew Cooper a beer and sat it before him. "Welcome back," the
Innkeeper smiled.

Cooper took a big drink, then moved over to the fire. He was there a good
three minutes before he began to undo his wraps.

"You gonna broil yourself by the fire, Coop, or are ye plannin' on joining
your friends?" Redd asked.

Cooper paused, embarrassed, threw the rest of his wraps-- his coat, hat and
scarf-- on a chair, and then moved back to the counter, and his beer.

"Coop, you seem in a bad way," Orrin offered.

"He's always in a bad way," Redd said. "The man's as timid as a maiden."

Cooper took a swig, then waited. His eyes were worried-- weak and nearly
lifeless. "I think..." he paused, and took another drink.

"You think?" Kug spat. "Now, there's somethin' new."

The others, except Cooper, chuckled.

"I think..." Cooper struggled to continue, "...that I might have seen
somethin'."

"What, man?" Constable Kierk asked. "What did ye see?"

Cooper took another drink of his beer, swirling it in his mouth while
closing his eyes. He finally said, "I think I saw one of them Terrymiders."

The room fell quiet for a moment. Then, Kug said, "Terrymiders. What's the
deal?" Kug knew what the deal was. Ostensibly, a Terrymider was simply a
resident of Terrymide. Nothing else. But Cooper's face, and speech, belied
something much more grave. And the men had heard the rumors. Everyone had
heard the rumors.

Cooper was silent. He took a few more drinks of his ale. His eyes met no
one's.

Agathata emerged with soup and bread for Cooper.

"You're not telling us that you saw some of them Terrymiders... doin'..."
Kierk paused, almost afraid to continue... "doin' what they... do?"

The patrons at the bar looked at each other with concern.

"I think..." Cooper answered, "that you may be right." His head fell
forward and he drooped over his ale, ashamed to even speak of what he
thought he saw.

The other bar visitors froze for a moment. Then the Constable drew up:
"Bah!" he said. "Old tales. That's all. There's nothin' to them tales!"

Cooper slurped in his soup, not caring about the noise; his eyes were
hidden.

Orrin said, "The Constable's right. You must have seen something else."

"I know what I saw," Cooper said, his head still down. "I'm not happy, what
my eyes saw, but they did see it."

"I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss the stories of the Terrymiders," Kug
chimed in. "I've been round these woods all my life, and I'm telling
you..." He paused for a moment. "Well, I just wouldn't be quick to pass it
off as a tale."

The front door flew open with a whoosh, and in stepped Lake, the smith's
apprentice. He stood a hand taller than all of the others, yet his years
were a mere score. Besides being the brunt of the occasional jab from the
others (on account of his youth, and being an "outsider"), Lake portended
the strength and virility that had long left the old men. Light blond hair,
lanky and lean-- yet muscular compared to the others-- a smile that
brightened the North Woods whenever it shown, Lake was the favorite of all
of the men in attendance-- though, none would admit it publicly.

"Lake!" Orrin's face gleamed. "Good to see you, lad. Come join us. Have a
seat with the men."

"We're inviting outsiders to the bar now?" Kierk asked. A few of the men
chuckled.

"Constable, I've lived in Gaeburn for over two annum, now. Hardly an
outsider, I'd say," Lake protested with a big smile as he tore off his
winter wraps.

"You have to put in at least ten, then we might start giving you a taking,"
Kug grumbled.

Lake ignored the barbs, and sat a the bar. His thick neck, genuine smile,
blond locks and innate manliness commended him to all men, of every stripe.

"So, what's going on with the oldsters?" Lake smiled, slaking his thirst
with the brew Orrin sat on the bar. Agathata came from the kitchen with a
bowl of soup and a loaf for the boy.

Among the mumbling reactions, Kierk responded with an enthusiastic, "Well,
ol' Cooper here, says he's seen some Terrymiders doin' ...you know... what
they do."

The men were restless. It was shameful to even mention such things.

Redd added, "Yet we doubt you actually know what that means, lad."

Lake smirked. "Redd, you're just a wisher. You don't know anything about
what I know."

All but Redd laughed, as Lake took a sip of Orrin's soup. Then, there was
an uncomfortable silence.

"So, Cooper, where did you see these Terrymiders?" Redd asked.

"About two furlong past the Old River Bridge," he said, still looking
down. "There were two of `em. Huge men. Bigger'n bears they looked. True
Megas, I tell you."

"And... what were they doing?" the Constable asked.

Cooper clammed up. He drew another spoon of soup. The fire crackled loudly,
as a log collapsed. "I dunno," Cooper finally said. "I don't want to talk
about it."

"You can't just barge in here," Kug complained, "and say you saw something,
then not talk about it."

"Let the man be," Agathata said. "If he wants to talk about it, it might
take him some time to get it out."

Cooper wanted to offer a glance of thanks to Agathata, but he wasn't one to
meet someone's eyes easily. The room fell quiet for a few more moments, and
the men continued to work on their food and beers.

"It was really dark," Cooper finally said, softly. "So I can't be sure." He
looked like he was almost trembling at the memory.

"You just got done telling us you know what you saw!" Kug objected.

Cooper paid him no mind. "I was riding ol' Buck back from Bloundt-- after
tending to my mama over this week-- and it had been about an hour from Four
Corners."

"This side of Four Corners?" Constable Kierk asked. "I ain't never heard of
a Mega venturing that far west."

"Well that's where I saw `em," Cooper insisted. "Didn't know they were
there until I got right up on `em. Buck started slowin' when he heard `em
over in the wood. Then I heard `em. It was like yellin'. They were off the
Traveler's Path."

"What were they yelling at?" Lake asked.

The other men took turns glancing at each other. Lake saw amusement on some
of them, disgust on others.

"Hush, child," Agathata scolded. "Let the man talk." Then she turned to
Orrin and said softly, "Methinks the lad is too young to be hearing of such
things."  Orrin ignored her.

"Their yelling wasn't at anything. Or anyone," Cooper picked up. He lifted
his glance now, meeting the eyes of the older men. "And I don't know if I
should speak of what I saw... or what I think I saw..." He looked down and
took another big drink of his brew, then blurted it out, as he let his mug
hit the bar loudly. "One of them Megas... he was bent over a log; face
down. He was the one doing most of the yelling. The other man was standing
at his..." Cooper shuddered. He grew silent.

"Gast, man! Out with it!" Kug spat.

"The other man was standing at his... ass."

An almost silent intake of breath was shared by the oldsters, and
Agathata. Lake was confused.

"And," Cooper continued, "he was... you know... Well, neither of `em had
any clothes on."

Redd let out the kind of whistle you make when you just heard something
unbelievable.

"And, gast," Cooper said, "they were the biggest men you'll ever see. Not
fat either. Just huge men. The stories about Terrymiders being Megas--
they're true."

"Mega Manmen," Kierk added.

Lake tightened his brow, slightly squinting. "What's a Manman?"

None of the men wanted to give Lake this lesson in debauchery and
evil. They all glanced at each other, hoping one of the others would take
the lead. Finally Kug grunted, "A Manman is a man who does the thing with
men-- and not... not a lassy."

A pit hardened in Lake's stomach, and it wasn't the same thing the oldsters
were feeling. He felt curiosity. And he felt-- well if he could have told
what the other feeling was, it was... arousal-- but he didn't identify it;
the others felt dread and odium.

"But them Terrymiders, the Megas" Redd said, "how can you even say they're
men? They're scores of stones heavier than the rest of us, and hands
taller... and stronger than..." his voice trailed off and he took some more
beer, emptying his mug. He sat it on the bar with a thud, and Orrin got the
message.

Cooper stood and walked over to the fire; he warmed his hands near it. "I
can't say no more about it. Not tonight," he said with his back to the
gathered.

Lake continued to sip his soup and knock down his beer. He kept his eyes on
the cracks and the wood pattern in the bar. No one noticed his
withdrawal. They were all nursing their souls, trying to deal with the
abhorrent reality that Cooper had just heralded.



CHAPTER TWO

THE SMITHY was located on the east side of Gaeburn, barely still within the
limits of little hamlet. If you were coming from Four Corners, you'd cross
the Old River Bridge first, then the first thing of Gaeburn you'd see would
be the smithy.

Like most of the other buildings in town, the smith's place was grey,
tattered, and in need of upkeep.

Lake tended the shop alone on this morning, since Mr. Blakely, the
mastersmith, was taking the day to hunt grouse. Now with two annum of
apprenticing under his belt, Lake was able to deal with any customer's
needs, save, perhaps an ornery horse that wouldn't cooperate. Not that he
was busy this day. The smith was rarely busy.

Lake had swept the front of the shop, and the stalls; he'd straightened the
shoes and made sure all of the tack was in good repair. He was on his
second game of Solitary Rounds when he heard the front door of the shop
open and close. The footfall rattled the rafters, although it didn't appear
to be heavy on purpose. Just heavy as a matter of course.

Lake sprang from his relaxing-spot and headed to the front. There, on the
other side of the counter was a man of breathtaking size and proportions.

A Mega.

As Lake stood a hand taller than the oldsters, this man stood at least
another hand taller than Lake. Lake guessed that he must've had to bend a
bit, in order to get under the header of the door.

Unlike Lake's almost lanky build, though, this man was as thick and solid
as a horse. His hair was tousled, an auburn mixture of red and brown, and
he had a short red beard to match. His skin was young; it belied his size--
no man who looked that young could be that enormous. He wore a flannel
green plaid shirt common to jacks. It was full of obvious muscle.

The man's torso tapered into a narrow, belted waistline, then expanded
again into two massive legs.

"Name's Bull," the man said with a deepness that vibrated Lake's whole
body. "I'm a jack, from over in Terrymide." He needn't have said where he
hailed from. From the discourse at the Inn last night, the instant Lake
laid eyes on the huge man, he thought Terrymider.

"Yes, sir," Lake said, trying to project confidence. "I'm Lake, the smith's
apprentice. How can I help you, Traveler?"

The mountain of a man looked deep into Lake's soul. He pursed his lips and
almost imperceptibly furrowed his brow. "You look young to be an
apprentice."

"For two annum now," Lake responded.

"Well, I'll be," Bull replied. "Guess you Gaeburners grow `em a little
smaller than we do over in Terrymide."

"That'd be most likely," Lake said. "You grow a lot of lumberjacks, there,
right?"

"That'd be most likely," Bull said. "Jackin's the best job a man can have,"
he said with a white grin.

Lake seemed to almost demure in the huge man's presence. "We certainly need
the wood for houses and such... furniture, too." He felt like he was
rambling now.

"Tell you what I need, son," Bull said. "I'm on my way to
Portness. Planning on stopping tomorrow in Morningwood. But my steed threw
a shoe about five furlong back. Need you to fix him up."

"No problem, sir," Lake replied. For an instant, the thought flashed
through the lad's mind: Gast, why don't you just carry the horse the rest
of the way yourself?

Lake instructed the huge man to bring his horse to the stalls in the
back. When Bull rounded the corner with his stallion, Lake withdrew in
shock. Apparently the men from Terrymide aren't the only things they grow
big there. Indeed, the horse was enormous; it had to be, Lake supposed,
just to take the weight of its rider.

Bull stood at the front of the horse while Lake worked the hoof. The scent
of the man was amazing, even overpowering that of the steed. Not that it
was unpleasant to the apprentice. On the contrary, Lake loved it. It was
totally new. He had to fight himself, to concentrate, for all the
pheromones the Terrymider discharged. It was almost intoxicating.

At every opportunity, Lake stole a glance of the huge man. His muscles were
lumpy, and bulged into and out of his shirt and pants. His neck was thick
and his face chiseled; even under his short beard, you could see this. The
man stood in front of his horse, making low moaning sounds, and Lake got
the idea that the Terrymider was actually, somehow, communicating with the
animal.

Concentrate, Lake told himself. Concentrate! It was hard.

The man stirred in Lake a primal feeling that he had had since his youth,
but had never defined. Now, it was as if all of the feelings he had spent
his short life quelling were broiling to the surface-- and it was Bull who
was causing the furnace in the boy to burn. The feelings at once scared and
excited him. He had felt these different feelings as long as he could
remember. But of course, even if he did get to the point of identifying
them, he could never admit to them. As he inhaled the essence of the
muscular man, though, Lake found his heart, and cock, enjoying these
feelings, even if his mind would not. His mind, instead of enjoying,
returned to the foreboding talk of the previous evening.

By the time the apprentice finished his chore, he was almost trembling from
the effect of Bull. The Terrymider was the quiet type-- the strong silent
type-- but he seemed friendly enough; almost amenable to the young man's
occasional gawking.

Lake, though, was petrified. These Terrymiders, and their detestable
tendency toward being Manmen-- it curled one's fingers to even ponder such
acts. Cooper's revelation the previous night was almost blasphemous. You
just didn't talk about such things. Yet this Bull man was revealing in
Lake-- if not simply planting-- the seed of evil, of unspeakable lust
toward those for whom no man should ever lust.

When the apprentice was done, the huge man of muscle met Lake at the front
shop and paid the silver pieces for the lad's services. "You do good work,
for an apprentice," the man smiled down. His teeth were perfect-- an
anomaly for people of Blid.

Deep inside Lake, the desires crescendoed. He glanced up at the big man's
eyes, and they locked. Bull's eyes locked on Lake's as well.

In an instant, Bull's face softened. "You're not afraid of me, are you,
boy..." he said, kindly.

"N-- no, sir. Should I be?"

"Not too many are welcoming of Terrymiders," Bull smiled. "There's stories
about us. Some are true, some aren't."

Lake said nothing.

"Some think we're possessed by Diabliss himself," Bull smiled. He stuck
both hands in his pant pockets, pushing them downward. The result was that
his gigantic triceps muscles pushed and pushed against the sleeve of his
plaid shirt, nearly tearing it asunder. "Mostly it's just that people don't
understand us. Our ways." He winked at Lake.

Lake nearly convulsed. His thoughts were riding roughshod in his brain, and
his feelings were more horny than ever before. In the past, even when the
lad would sneak behind the shop and rub himself to eruption, he'd never
thought of someone as big and powerful-looking as Bull. Gast, he'd never
imagined such a being even existed. He'd never heard of a Mega.

Now, though, his rubbing sessions would be changed forever.

"But you seem different than most others," Bull continued. "You don't seem
afraid. Maybe even friendly."

"I-- I don't-- know..." Lake stammered.

"I think I do know," Bull smiled back. He paused, growing more
serious. "But maybe not." He looked down at the ground, then out the front
window of the shop. Without averting his gaze out the window, he said, "I
have this sense." He turned back now, and looked down at Lake. "A sense
that you might be... how shall I say it... intrigued." His face was
absolutely tender now. "But I also sense your apprehension, laddy." He
looked away for an instant, then looked back at Lake. "So what's say I be
on my way now. I need to be in Morningwood by two-day's dusk. After that
it's Portness for a few days." The giant of a man leaned slightly forward,
then farther. His face was less than a hand from Lake's now. "But I'll be
returning down this Traveler's Path the beginning of next fortnight, on my
way home to Terrymide. Perhaps I'll have need of a smith on my way back?"
he half asked himself. "Or, more likely, a smith's apprentice," he smiled.

Lake inhaled the musky pheromones; the virility of the muscled traveler
nearly caused the lad to erupt then and there, without so much as a single
rub. "Perhaps," He squeaked.

Bull smiled and stood up straight. His enormous chest filled Lake's field
of vision; the lad could see a tuft of auburn hair as it poked above the
neckline of the man's shirt.

"Does your mastersmith plan on being away long?" Bull asked as he pulled
the door open.

"Uh-- he's only gone grouse hunting today. He's usually pretty close."

Bull's expression fell, but only slightly. Then it moderated. "Tell me,
son. Do you have an Inn here in Gaeburn? I might be deciding to spend the
night here on my way back."

"Mossystone Inn, it's just a few furlongs farther," Lake said, using his
right hand to motion toward town. He paused, realizing a thought, adding,
"But... I'm not sure..."

"Not sure about what?" Bull asked.

"Oh, nothin'" Lake said. He looked down at the floor.

Bull closed the door. "I see," he said. "The townsfolk of Gaeburn have some
opinions, do they? Stories?"

"Yes, sir," Lake said, his face flushing.

"Don't you worry about me," Bull said. "I've spent my whole life dealing
with that." He opened the door again and prepared to leave. "We'll just
have to see what we can see." He exited the door, and Lake followed,
stopping at the threshold.

The lad could only stare as the Terrymider walked away. It had to be the
broadest back in all of Blid. And the tightest ass. Lake was shocked by the
arousal he felt toward the gigantic, muscled being. Shocked, and enormously
stimulated. "Safe travels, traveler," he called out in the customary way,
waving.

"And safe days to you, my friend," came the standard response. Bull put one
foot in a stirrup, jumped up, and mounted his steed. He winked at Lake,
patted his horse on the neck, and clicked his tongue, pulling the reigns to
the right.

Lake continued to study the manly man as he rode toward the center of
Gaeburn. When the Terrymider was out of sight, Lake walked to the back of
the stable and pulled out his bone. He needed to rub it only three or four
times before it erupted with spray after spray of thick, white seed. The
warm fluid spilled all over the hay, the wall of the stall and even managed
to moisten a few spots on some leather tack.



To purchase the rest of the story, and to get ready for book two in this
series, please be sure to visit my website: http://seanreidscott.com !
(There'll be PLENTY of muscle sex!)