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From: Lazlo Zalezac <lzalezac@yahoo.com>
X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Wed, 17 Sep 2003 15:08:34 -0700 (PDT)
Subject: {ASSM} John Carter I 01 (mf ff mmf ffm mm sci-fi)
Date: Thu, 18 Sep 2003 03:10:02 -0400
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<1st attachment, "JC1.txt" begin>
DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. If you are offended by
sexually explicit material or are under the age of 18, stop reading
now. This material cannot be reproduced for commercial purposes
without the consent of the author.
John Carter
By
Lazlo Zalezak
Copyright (C) Lazlo Zalezak, 2003
Part 1: Shield, Staff, and Compass
Chapter 1
... to cross that dark chasm that exists in heart and soul.
There must be a greater meaning to your life than you have found
thus far.
So screamed an angry wind that held his heart in a frigid grasp.
All he knows is what all men know. The fear of a little boy as he
faces a larger one in a playground fight; more afraid of being
called a coward than he is of getting hurt or losing. There is the
pride and accomplishment that comes from building something
new. There is the rush of power and that little thrill that comes with
tearing down something old and rotten. There is the confusion that
arises as a result of being asked what he feels by a woman he loves
and the knowledge that his inability to answer arises from not
knowing rather than an unwillingness to share. There are even
simple things of life that define him, like the relief that spreads
forth from his bladder when he relieves himself first thing in the
morning.
He knows that the urge to procreate exists in every part of his mind
and body; it colors his whole view of the world. He remembers
that thrill felt as a young man when he actually got his first feel of
a woman's breast even though a bra covered it. There is the
remembrance of the embarrassment felt as a teenager when he
would get erect in class for no reason at all; the dread that
everyone would know of his excited state and laugh at him. There
is that sense of rightness in how his hand fits around his cock as he
strokes his erection while fantasizing. There is the accompanying
unease at the chance of being caught masturbating that drives him
to finish as quickly as possible and abort the full potential for
pleasure that the act promises. There is that catch in the throat
when he looks down at a woman sucking his cock and sees that she
is looking up at him with a smile in her eyes. There is that
indescribable pleasure of entering a woman in that most intense act
between man and woman. He fears the devastation that would
come from having a woman laugh at the size of his cock or ridicule
his performance as a man. He wants to deny that day when he
finally becomes too old or ill to get an erection and thus prays that
day will never come.
He knelt beside the fire pit, a stone pressing into his right knee,
irritating, but insufficient to force him to change his position.
Ignoring his discomfort, he poked through the ashes looking for
the dull red of a last remaining ember. In the pre-dawn light, even
the faintest glow would stand out. Finding one, he worked it to the
center of the pit with a small stick. He placed a small piece of dried
moss upon the ember and blew gently. His breath coaxed the
ember to glow a little brighter and the grayish-green moss began to
smoke. Then, with the suddenness that always surprised him, it
burst into a fragile flame with a weak wisp of smoke rising from it
that was easily lost in the gray light. With the care that comes from
long experience, he laid sticks across the wavering flame and blew
gently as he resurrected the fire that had burned through the night.
He rocked back until he rested buttocks on heals and gazed with
simple pleasure at the result of his labor. He watched the steadily
growing flame until he was satisfied that the fire needed no further
care for the moment.
Looking up, he watched day break over the eastern horizon;
performing what had become a religious ritual. The unseen sun
was lighting up the sky, painting it blue against the gray
background that slowly spread upwards. He smiled at the lack of
red on the horizon that according to sailor wisdom meant there
would be no rain that day. A cold wind that lasted no more than
three seconds disturbed the quiet air, bringing a chill that spread
across his whole body. Every morning that wind blew through and
he felt this indicated a magic moment. By the time the chills
subsided, the sun broke the horizon signaling the beginning of a
new day.
Muscles stiff from holding the same position too long; he rose with
great difficulty and examined the camp. From the leather case on
his belt, he removed his compass and turning north strode fifty
paces into the woods; chased by the barking of squirrels disturbed
by this strange presence. He looked up and spied his orange
backpack hanging from a rope thrown over a branch of a stately
oak. The bright yellow of the ski tow line stood out in sharp
contrast to the bluish gray background of the sky and the green
leaves of the oaks. He followed the rope to where it was tied on a
separate tree and pulled on the free end of the rope thereby
releasing the knot. Lowering the backpack, he watched the
swaying of the branch over which the rope hung. He marveled at
the nature of the forces that translated his angular release into a
gradual lessening of the forces sustaining the pack against the force
of gravity.
When the pack finally reached the ground he went to it and
retrieved the rope. He coiled the rope and replaced it in its normal
position. Hefting it, at least ten pounds lighter now then two weeks
ago, he deftly swung it around while slipping his arms into the
straps. Having performed the act several times a day for the past
month, it settled into place very naturally.
As he walked back to camp, he took a little more time to watch the
antics of the squirrels. Bushy tails flattened behind, ears laid back,
and a ferocious look pasted across their faces they barked their
displeasure at him. These truly wild animals had not seen a human
in at least ten of their generations. Unlike their tamer brethren that
lived in and around cities, these squirrels would not eat any bread
that he might leave out for them.
Reaching his camp, he set down his backpack down next to his
bedroll and carefully opened it. There on the top was his metal cup
and the container of coffee. He filled the cup with water from his
canteen, added two spoons of the extremely finely ground coffee,
and two packets of sugar. He preferred the packets of sugar as it
simplified measurement, storage, and left waste that was easily
burned in the fire. After burning the paper from the packets, he
threw several handfuls of dirt upon a portion of the fire. He set the
cup upon the dirt. The dirt would heat up and form a natural
medium heat that would brew a very strong Greek coffee in about
20 minutes.
Seating himself on his bedroll and next to the backpack, he
removed his well-worn leather-bound journal. Once it had that
fresh leather smell; now it smelled of wood smoke, leaves, and
sweat. He opened it to the first black pages and removed the pen
from the penholder built into the spine of the book. Checking his
watch, he wrote:
June 21 6:45 AM
I stayed up late last night watching the stars. The night was very
clear and the stars presented themselves in all their glory. I never
fail to have that sense of wonder that I imagine primitive man had
when he first stared up at the night sky and realized that the stars
were more than just décor but were something magical. The moon
was full and so bright that you could have read a newspaper.
Amazing what you see when you leave the lights of the city.
Just before falling asleep, I saw a most amazing sight. Three
meteors simultaneously raced across the sky perfectly in parallel
with each other. They were well spaced so that I could easily tell
which one was closest to me. The one closest to me was the
smallest, the middle one was about twice the size of the small one,
and the furthest was huge. There had been no meteors before that
or afterwards.
He took a moment to read what he had written and, satisfied that
his entry had captured all of the events of the previous night,
slipped the pen back into the holder along the spine. Removing the
map from the back of his journal, he opened it and examined it for
a couple of minutes. Reaching into the backpack, he removed the
GPS and read off his location. He checked that against the point
that he had marked the night before and nodded when the two
locations matched. Folding the map, he replaced it in the journal
and returned the journal and the GPS to the backpack. He glanced
over at the coffee and saw that it wasn't ready yet; it never was by
this time.
He stood up and lifted up his bedroll. Holding along the long side,
he shook it with a great snap to remove any bugs, leaves, or other
debris that might be stuck to it. It took only a half a minute to fold
it into thirds and then roll it into a tight bundle. He tied it with four
strings that he retrieved from his backpack. Setting it down next to
the backpack, he squatted and removed two small packages from
it. The packages contained a small piece of sausage and the hard
cheese. It wasn't much, but it was more than sufficient for a cold
breakfast.
He checked the coffee again and found that it was ready and very
hot. Using his shirttail, he lifted it by the handle from the mound of
dirt and set it aside to cool. Rich foam topped half of the cup. The
aroma of the coffee filled his nostrils and brought back memories
of the Greek woman who had taught him to make coffee in this
fashion. He remembered the time she had made a cup of coffee
with a distribution of foam almost identical to what was on the cup
he was now examining. She told him that a major change in life
was indicated. That same day an event happened that completely
changed his life. Even now, the memory of that day brought a
shudder to him. Since then, he never touched alcohol or drugs; he
turned from drop out to determined student.
Breaking away from his reflections, he took a bite of the sausage.
His stomach twisted in response to the strong flavor of garlic so
early in the day. He grimaced, but continued to eat. Alternating
between bites of sausage and cheese, he slowly consumed his
breakfast. Occasionally, he would take the time to sip his coffee
enjoying the strong flavor and rush of caffeine. It wasn't long
before he had nothing less than half a bite of sausage and cheese.
He set them aside saying, "For the Gods and Goddesses."
With a quick flick of his wrist, he emptied the contents of his
coffee cup onto the remains of his fire. The sudden onslaught of
wet coffee grounds threw up a cloud of steam laced with the heavy
scent from coffee smoking amongst a few remaining coals. He
added a small amount of water to the cup swirled it with a deft
flick of the wrist and tossed the water onto the fire again. The last
coals died with a protesting hiss. His cup was free of coffee
grounds.
He added more water to the cup and dunked his toothbrush into it.
After a minute of vigorous brushing, he spat out the white foam
into the fire pit. A quick sip from the cup and a general swishing of
the water through his mouth was followed by another splash of
water hitting the fire pit. The fire pit was now a mess of sodden
ashes and half-burnt sticks. He drank down the mouthful of water
that remained in the cup.
It only took another five minutes of work and all of his possessions
were packed into the backpack or tucked into his pockets. With a
patient scan over his campsite, he assured himself that there was
little or no trace of his stay. A small mound of dirt where his fire
pit had been and a small piece of cheese and sausage were all that
remained. The flattened grass where he had slept would stand
again in a day or two. He took considerable pleasure in performing
the strict routine of his morning tasks.
It was after three hours of leisurely hiking that a chill ran up his
spine He froze in place as he struggled to come to grips with the
unnatural feel of his surroundings. Everything was too quiet. There
was no wind and no birdcalls. He listened carefully trying to
identify the source of his uneasiness, yet nothing reached his ears.
As he looked around, it seemed as though the colors were too
bright. The greens of the leaves, the browns and grays of the trunks
and branches of the trees, and the blue of the sky screamed at him.
There was a profusion of colors. The light hurt his eyes with their
intensity.
The sound of a branch moving struck him like a whip. His head
swiveled to see what had caused the noise. He stared in shock as a
naked woman stepped from the forest. A current of electricity
raced through him. His cock went from placid to erect instantly
and painfully.
Time came to stop as she stood at an angle to him while allowing
him to take in her beauty. She was the perfect woman incarnate.
Her stance was one of complete ease and confidence. Her right leg
supported her weight. The left leg was angled to the side; the toes
just touching the ground. Her left hand rested upon her hip. There
was no trace of embarrassment in how she presented herself to him
although there was no modesty in her pose.
Her skin was silky white and totally unblemished. Her light brown
hair hung to the top of the most sensational ass that he had ever
seen and partially covered her breasts. Her gravity defying breasts
were the perfect size, not too big and not too small. The pencil
eraser sized nipples were erect, rising proudly from the light brown
aureole.
Her face was perfect. Her eyes watched him with direct and
piercing intensity, tempered with a softness that spoke of deep
understanding of mortal frailty. The irises were the color of
emeralds and shone with a light of their own. Her lips were a
natural reddish hue that gave them a sensuality that no lipstick
could ever achieve. Her lips, raised slightly in a wry smile,
conveyed a sense of amusement. The cheeks shone with a natural
blush.
His gaze returned to her eyes and through them, he saw himself.
He felt as though he were the one naked. He knew himself to be
filthy from hiking for two weeks without a civilized shower. It had
been two days since he had washed himself and that time was in a
pitiful stream where the best that he could do was wet his shirt and
wipe himself with it. The knees of his pants were permanently
stained from kneeling in the dirt and grass.
He was not really embarrassed by his physical appearance. That
was minor. It was the fact the he knew his soul was laid bare for
her to examine at her leisure. At that moment, he had an epiphany.
He realized there was a significant difference between being naked
and nude. Naked was being exposed and vulnerable to others.
Nude was merely lacking clothing. She was nude and he was
naked, although he still wore his clothes. Her secrets were still safe
while his were exposed for all to see.
She beckoned him to follow with her right hand. Dazed and
confused, he followed her. He felt a panic rise on those few
occasions when she would disappear as she walked around a tree.
The panic would only subside when she became visible again. His
erection never flagged. In fact, it seemed as though it was stronger
with each step that he took. It became painful to walk.
He had no idea how far or in what direction they walked when she
suddenly stopped beside a ravine. He stopped next to her and stood
there never taking his eyes from her. She turned and smiled. With
an unexpected ferocity, she tore the clothes from his body. She
moved with an unnatural speed and exercised tremendous strength.
His leather belt snapped as the blue jeans were ripped off him. He
never saw the shirt disappear, but knew that it was gone when
shreds of it floated on the breeze around him. One moment he was
dressed and the next he was naked with a painful erection reaching
towards the sky.
Before he even had a chance to react, she threw him to the ground
and mounted him. There was nothing giving about this act. She
was taking and doing so without any regard to his pleasure. She
rocked herself on his cock. It felt as though she were trying to
break it off. She grabbed his arms and squeezed painfully drawing
blood where her fingernails had become embedded in his flesh.
She growled like a wild animal and stared into the sky as orgasm
after orgasm ripped through her. With each orgasm, her
movements became even less gentle, although he thought it was
not possible.
Despite the brutality of the act, his body reacted. His arousal grew
and soon he came within her. He convulsed as spurt after spurt of
cum rocketed into her. He would never be able to recall how long
he came, but it felt like hours. After he ejected the last blast of
cum, she gently rubbed her hand across his face and dismounted
from his cock.
When the intensity of his orgasm finally diminished to a point
where he was again aware of his surroundings, he looked up to see
her towering over him. She pointed across the ravine to a tree. He
looked in the direction she had pointed and saw a golden flash as a
medallion hung from the branch of tree twisted in the wind. He
looked back at her and again she gestured towards the medallion.
He gazed at it and looked to her again. Now she frowned and
pointed at the medallion a third time. Understanding crashed upon
him as he realized that he was supposed to fetch the medallion for
her.
Confused and in pain from the physical pounding she had given
him, he stood and walked to the edge of the ravine. In was only
fifteen feet or so deep and thirty feet across. A beautiful blue
stream, teaming with fish, snaked its way through the ravine. Lush
green plants grew in great profusion.
He lowered himself over the edge and carefully started to make his
way down. He had to be careful to protect his naked body from
further insult by the sharp edges of the stone comprising the wall
of the ravine. When he had gone down about fifteen feet, he
glanced down. The bottom of the ravine was still fifteen feet below
him. Confused, he looked up only to see that the top of the ravine
was fifteen feet above him. He continued to lower himself,
glancing upwards occasionally. The edge of the ravine soon rose
impossibly far above him. The bottom remained fifteen feet below
him.
He was taken by surprise when he finally reached the bottom.
Stepping back, he looked up and saw that the edge of the ravine
was only fifteen feet above him. He shook his head as though to
clear it as he turned away from the wall of the ravine. His nose was
immediately assaulted by the odor of rot and decay. Instead of lush
green plants, plants that were pale and brown surrounded him. The
plants were mushy and squished between his toes. He stopped for a
moment wondering how she had managed to rip his leather hiking
shoes from his feet. Steeling himself to the task at hand, he stepped
carefully, making his way the few feet to the stream. What had
appeared to be a blue stream was now shown as a muddy swamp
clogged with algae and dead fish. He searched for stepping-stones,
but realized quickly that there was no way to cross without
walking through it.
Taking a deep breath of the rotten air, he grimaced as he stepped
into the muck. Each step released a horrible bubble of noxious gas
that threatened to make him vomit. He marched for hours to cross
the swamp. He was fearful that if he tried to turn back he would
never make it out alive.
At a point that appeared to be halfway through the swamp, he
encountered a naked young girl, about eight years of age, crying to
herself. He stopped and knelt down to put himself at eye level with
her. He spoke softly and gently, "Hello there. Are you lost?"
The young girl sniffled, "Yeah, I want out of this icky mess."
"My name is John. What is yours?"
The young girl paused for a minute and then answered, "Missy."
"Okay, Missy, how about you and I walk in that direction for a
while?"
The girl started to cry even more, "I don't want to walk in this icky
mess any more. I wanna go home to mommy and daddy."
He stood there for a minute and considered his options. Not finding
any options that he liked, he told her, "Why don't you climb on my
shoulders and I'll carry you that way?"
She smiled, "Are you giving me a horsy ride?"
He nodded his head and knelt down for her to climb on. It only
took her half a second to settle on his shoulders; legs hanging over
each shoulder and her arms around the top of his head. He stood
with more than a little struggle, and stated in as cheerful of a voice
as he could muster, "Here we go!"
Missy shouted out, "Yippy!"
He started his march through the swamp. Each step sunk in deeper
and it was hard work lifting his foot out of the work. He was
definitely tired and this was going to tire him even faster. Each
step led to larger releases of noxious gas than when he walked
alone.
As he marched, he thought about his situation. Here he was, a
naked adult carrying a naked girl in the wilderness. The naked girl
wasn't even a relative. When he got across the swamp and finally
met up with someone, he was likely to be sent to jail as a
pedophile. There was no way that he could relate the events that
placed him in this position to any sane or rational person, much
less someone who was outraged at the apparent offence. He would
end up in jail, there was no doubt of that. There was no way that he
could set her down and leave her here though. To do that would be
a real crime and one that he would have to live with for the rest of
his life.
His morose thoughts and the sheer effort to take each step
demanded all of his attention. So again, he was surprised when he
finally made his way out of the swamp although the plants on this
side were definitely more disgusting than they had been on the
other side. There was no way that he would set the girl in that
mess. He walked through the mess, watching as maggots wriggled
in the mud and flies bit his ankles and legs. It was with temporary
relief that he finally reached the wall of the ravine. He thought he
knew what to expect now.
Now he had to figure out how to climb up the wall and get the
young girl up the wall as well. He set her down near the wall much
to her complaints. She had been enjoying the ride through the
swamp. He leaned down and stated, "Sorry about that, I have to
rest before trying to climb up the wall. Can you climb a little?"
Missy thought about it for a minute, "I'm afraid to fall."
He thought about it some more and decided there was still a
chance, "How about you climb up first and I'll be right behind you
to catch you if you fall?"
He took a minute to catch his breath and work some of the tension
out of the muscles of the back. He helped the girl up the wall
before reaching out to climb up the wall himself. As he climbed,
the rock face crumbled under his hands. He had to take his time
and work his way up carefully. Several times, the girl started to
slip and he caught her before she fell much. The sudden strain on
his muscles drained what little reservoir of strength that he had.
Once, as he was reaching up to find a solid handhold, the rocks he
was using for support gave way. He slid twenty feet down the face
before catching something solid. He screamed out in pain at the
cuts on the front of his body. He glanced down to see that his cock
was a bloody mess. He was exhausted beyond human endurance.
His body was racked in pain. The only thing that kept him from
quitting was the knowledge that if he quit, there would be a little
girl lost in this horrible environment. He climbed up to where
Missy was watching him with terror in her eyes. He smiled, "Don't
worry about me, I would have caught you too."
Missy nodded, "Ok."
They started to climb together, her leading the way and him right
behind her ready to catch her a moment's notice. They climbed and
the more they climbed the more determined he became to reach the
top. Progress became measured in inches. Determination and focus
on his goal drove him up the wall of crumbling stone. Muscles
burned, each breath rasped in his throat and sweat running into his
eyes blurred his vision. He was not surprised when he finally
reached the top. He was unaware that he had reached the top until
he realized that he was standing in front of the tree from which the
medallion hung with the young girl standing next to him. He
smiled down at her, "We made it out of that icky place!"
She smiled, "Yea!"
He turned to the tree on which the medallion hung and stated, "Let
me get this, and then we can go find your home. Ok?"
She frowned, "Do you think my daddy will be angry at me to find
me without my clothes?"
He ran his hand through her hair and answered, "Honey, he's going
to be so happy to see you that he won't be mad at you about your
clothes."
"That's good. I don't like it when daddy gets mad at me. He's real
big and scary when he gets mad."
He thought about it. All he needed now was a big scary man
finding him naked with the girl. Hands trembling he reached out
and grabbed the medallion. Lifting it off the branch, he held it in
his hands not seeing it. He stared at his hands. The little finger of
his left hand was twisted into an unnatural position. The skin of
both hands was torn and bloody. All his fingernails were broken.
He looked again and realized that one fingernail had come off
completely.
Numbly he turned to face the ravine only to find the woman
standing next to him. She smiled and pulled the medallion from his
hands. With dignity and honor, she hung the medallion around his
neck. In a voice that seemed to reverberate through the air, she
said, "John Carter, it is time for you to rest."
He woke leaning against his backpack beside a stream. His clothes
were whole and clean. In fact, his clothes looked as good as new.
There were no injuries and no pain. He was whole and clean as
though he had just had a hot shower. His beard, grown over the
month that he had spent out in the wilds, was trimmed and neat.
His confusion only increased when he felt an unusual warm feeling
spreading from the medallion hanging about his neck. He reached
down and touched the medallion. Shaking his head, he said, " I
guess it wasn't a dream."
As though it was an affirmation, a wind suddenly blew through the
trees. The leaves shook. They made a rustling sound as though a
hidden audience was moving about. The branches of two adjacent
trees banged against each other as though applauding. Chills raced
up his spine. He shook himself and took a couple of minutes to
collect his thoughts. He decided it wouldn't do him any good to try
to puzzle out recent events, but that he did need to take care of the
now. The first thing that came to his mind was that he had no idea
where he was.
He pulled out his GPS from the case on his belt and retrieved his
map from the backpack so that he could check his location. To his
surprise, he found that he was only a thirty-minute walk from the
town that was his destination for the day. He didn't expect to arrive
there until late in the afternoon. He checked his watch and was
shocked to find that it was flashing random numbers instead of the
date and time. The sun was directly overhead so that made it about
noon.
He replaced his belongings to their proper locations before
standing up. Checking his compass, he headed towards town. He
decided that he would eat a good meal, spend the night in a hotel
and only then would he try to figure out what had happened this
morning. Now that he had a plan, he resolutely set about executing
it. He was almost in town when a thought that had been in the back
of his mind forced itself to his consciousness, 'I was raped by a
woman.' He revised that statement; he had made love with a
tornado.
<1st attachment end>
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