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From: "Stereograph" <tomfool@hushmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Thundermouth, an Elder Gods Story {Stereograph} (MF Mf 1st spank)
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Date: Thu, 12 Dec 2013 07:10:03 -0500
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This story is the foundational text for a group of stories called the
"Elder God" tales. Each story in the group is stand alone and provides
a brief explanation of the alternative world in which they take place.
This one provides the fullest explanation.

<1st attachment, "Thundermouth.txt" begin>

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  This is a work of fiction. No person, place, or situation depicted
exists outside the mind of the Author.
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Thundermouth, an Elder Gods Story {Stereograph} (MF Mf 1st spank)
 
  Once I had a name, A God took it away and called me His spokesman.
Once I had a life of my own. The God took it over.  If ever a god calls
you to be His, or Her, voice know that your life will be changed
forever and most men will hate you. Not that you can refuse the call,
only that it will not be an easy job. The perks can be good, very good
indeed. The hatred can eat you up though. The work will not be easy.
Gods never give out easy jobs.

  Before the God called me, He had already insured that I would be
hated on His behalf. His first public act had been to show up at a
London parade and rally to celebrate "gay marriage". It was a cool,
cloudy day in early September. The parade was wending its way toward
St. Paul's Cathedral where the speeches and celebrations would take
place in spite of the opposition of the Bishop of London. The God
appeared in the churchyard, nine feet tall and wielding His hammer, or
ax--the tool's shape was ambiguous--and told the news crews that no
such thing as "gay marriage" could exist. Men who tried to mimic sex
with another man, or women who tried to do so with women, did violence
to Natural Law, which was the Gods' law, and would be punished without
mercy. He then pelted the entire parade route with hail the size of
billiard balls, crushing the bones of every marcher and spectator.
There were no survivors. Since this was televised live to all the
world, I could not deny it later when I had been named his voice. The
English government even tried to have me tried for murder.  That gets
ahead of my tale, though.

  A few days later I was stuck by lightning. It wasn't fun, let me tell
you. My shoes and some of my clothes were blasted off. I had burns on
my soles and one on the side of my head. My hair and beard were
scorched off, for the most part. Other than this I wasn't badly hurt.
My "accident" made the news and I had the sympathy of most. I hadn't
been named the God's mouth yet after all.

  A week after flattening London, the God showed up in Brussels. He
stood outside a building that housed offices for the national branches
for several abortion and euthanasia proponents and providers. Once
news crews had arrived on scene, he told them that kinslaying was the
gravest crime anyone could possibly commit. He flattened the building
with a tornado, live, on camera, with the staffs inside. Again, no
survivors.  Then he announced that I was to be His day to day voice on
Middle Earth. He hadn't even informed me yet and He'd slain the favorite
sacred cows of secularism. The press hounded me in only a few hours and
I had no idea what to say.

  What fun.
  
  I had my first contact with the God who'd dragooned me by praying. I
no idea how to pray to this god, nor what to call Him. It didn't matter.
He answered anyway. 

  "I am Thunderer. Thou art Thundermouth. Thou hast no other name or job
anymore."

  Like I said, he took over my life.
  
  "From now on, thou goeth were I say and speaketh the words I give thee.
To do that, thou wilt need a car to travel in and a house to entertain
in. Those will be thy first tasks. Don't drag thy feet, there is a full
slate of places to be and people to speak to. Buy a strong car, the
weather will be bad every winter until man reforms himself.  That will
be longer than the rest of thy life. Thou likest motorcycles? I like
them too. Buy a fine bike, thou wilt have a short riding season, but
thou wilt look good doing it. Money is no object, but buy working class
cars and home. Make it a farm. Thou wilt need the space."

  "Great Thunderer, perhaps you've missed noticing that you crippled me
and made me ugly for a while? I cannot stand for long and my hair and
beard look hideous."

  "Thy feet will heal and the hair is growing back as we talk. Thy first
places to be will allow for a chair. This money will get thee started."
A pop sounded and cash appeared on the dinning table. Stacks of cash.
"I have purified thy body with lightning and set it to be as a man in
his prime,"--I was in my fifties--"If thou wilt put in the effort,
thou wilt soon be as fit as ever thou wert in thy life." 

  The voice was not just in my head. My interview with Thunder was
interrupted by a cop at the door. A neighbor two houses away had
called in a noise complaint.

  I was living as a guest in my brother's home. The economic downturn
had gotten me laid off. I'd sold my car and furniture to tide me over
and moved out of my apartment. When the God had named me his voice, my
old boss had called to say I wouldn't be called back to work. He
couldn't risk the backlash from the liberal community.

  The next day I had my sister-in-law take me car shopping. It wasn't
hard. We went right to the Jeep dealer where I ordered a Wrangler
with a snowplow and an off-road snorkel kit.

  The farm was harder to shop for. The God wanted me to relocate to,
or near, the town of Chillicothe, nearly seventy miles from my home. I
didn't know the area and had to borrow my brother's car to view the
lands for sale until my car was delivered. I found a farm, it only
took two trips.

  "Oh, Mighty Thunderer. I have the car and land arranged, but I need
the funds to pay for them," I prayed.

  "Good," He said, "Here is enough cash for them both. Move to the
farm as soon as the deal closes. Thou canst furnish it as time allows.
In the mean time, pick up the car today, thou art about to receive a
call telling thee it's ready. I need thee in Indianapolis tomorrow
morning. Be ready to leave early. I'll give thee directions as thou
doest drive."

  He spoke no more that night. The phone was ringing as he said the
last words. My car was ready. I took enough to pay the balance and
picked it up, titled and tagged and ready to roll.

  The next morning, well before dawn, I hit the road. I had little
choice. Thunderer woke me at two A.M. I wore what soon became my
signature outfit; bib overalls, flannel shirt, work boots, and a fedora.
As I approached the city, He directed me to an exit and through several
turns. I arrived where He wanted me, which turned out to be an abortion
"clinic".

  "Let no woman enter," said Thunderer. "Each woman will pause and look
to thee. That, my mother will insure." His mother is Frigga, goddess of
childbirth and familial love, among other things. "Thy job today is to
talk them out of slaying their child. Fail not in thy task."

  There were others there already. Three elderly women and a man. They
were there every day the "clinic" was open trying to do the same task
the God had given me. They were all Catholics and were leery of me at
first. I was a stranger and had been co-opted by a god they were not
prepared to believe in, after all. That changed as soon as the first
woman came for her appointment. She was dropped off in the street by a
car that promptly left. She wore sweatpants, I would later learn that
this is the standard uniform of women having an abortion, and was
clearly pregnant and just starting to show. She stopped to look at me
and I beckoned her over.  She came to my surprise.

  She looked into my eyes for a moment. She started crying. "I don't
want to do this," she said. "My boyfriend, my parents, and his--they
all want the baby killed. Why can't I just accept that?"

  She hugged me tightly and bawled. "You're a mother now. It's
impossible to hate your own son. If you kill him, you'll never
forgive yourself."

  She looked at me wide-eyed. "How did you know I'm carrying a boy?"

  I had no answer to that. Later I learned that Frigga gave me such
knowledge whenever I needed it. "You're carrying a boy and his name is
Osgood." I had no idea where that came from, but having said that I
ran with it. "If you raise him, he will be a soldier and a hero. He
will make you proud."

  "How can I raise him? I have no living to speak of. My parents will
disown me! My boyfriend will leave! Will money fall from the sky
whenever I need it?"

  "It won't be easy, but you are far from the first mother in this
situation. These people," I pointed to the local folks, "can help.
They are connected to organizations that help single mothers every
day. Bring your boyfriend to me, and I may--only may--be able to talk
him into marrying you."

  "I shouldn't have given in and had sex with him. He pressed me so
hard to. It wasn't really much fun and he won't marry me now. He
doesn't want to be saddled with a child, or a wife. I'm sure your gods
have some punishment in store for me."

  "Whatever punishment you have due is less than you'd suffer for
killing the child! A mild spank instead of eternally being chewed by
the great worm at the roots of the World Tree."

  To my surprise she dropped her drawers and panties. "Just a
spanking? I can live with that." She laid across my knees.

  "Do it!" said a female voice. The voice came from everywhere and
nowhere at once. It wasn't just in my head, it startled everyone
present, but it wasn't loud either. I took it to be Frigga.

  I caressed her snowy globes for a moment. "This will hurt. Have you
ever been spanked before?"

  "No, my parents don't believe in it. Is it really all that bad?"

  I didn't answer. Instead, I gave her the first hard swat. She jumped
a mile and yelped. Then she nodded and I laid into her. I slapped her
firmly for about ten minutes, until my arm wore out. I stopped and she
stood and rubbed her butt, crying.

  "That will be enough punishment," said the Voice.

  We talked a bit more. She did not want to kill the child. It took
little to convince her to keep it. Soon, she left with one of the
local women to visit a center that provides help and promised to bring
her boyfriend in a few hours. After that the locals opened up to me.

  Not one woman entered the clinic that day. I talked them out of it,
whether they were pregnant or only unsure. I wore my arm and hand out
spanking butts too.

  "Thou didst well today," boomed the God startling the drivers around
me. "I chose the right man for the job. Thou didst better than I dared
to hope."

  It was then that he told me of his mother's part in guiding me. She
would tell me a child's sex and its name. She would tell me as much of
its fate, its "wyrd" in Old English, as the Gods knew. In spite of my
sorry appearance, mothers trusted me. Husbands and boyfriends had
listened to me and abandoned their plans to pressure their women into
abortions. For one thing, they feared me and believed the Gods would
punish them for killing their children. Considering that I was middle
aged and they young, it was almost flattering.

  "Tomorrow thou shalt be in Pittsburgh for a school reform rally. A
parents group is demanding a return to classical education and the
elimination of the sex ed program. I support them, not that the school
board cares yet. Thou wilt speak on my behalf. Think up a speech
tonight and run it by me in the morning."

  "Do you intend for me to enter politics on your behalf. I'm not sure
people will welcome that, or listen to me."

  "Not politics, per say. Thou shalt speak on subjects that
strengthen, or against subjects that weaken, the family. We don't care
what form politics take in any country so long as justice is dispensed
and the family is honored as the basic unit of society. Any practice
that weakens the family, or misleads children is damned! Punishment
after death has always been used, but while we are bringing man back
to some form of sanity, we will punish in the living world as well.
Thy job is to make people understand this. All the world is under
judgment for abortion. This is why I've begun an Ice Age that will not
end until legal abortion is no more, anywhere. Thou must tell this to
people. Nations will be punished by severe storms for the corruption
of marriage. Whoever is in charge of schools, be it nations or towns,
will be punished for corrupting the morals of children. If a people
are guilty of all three, and most places are today, they will suffer
greatly. Speak this truth in my name, oh my Mouth."

  "People will not listen to talk of gods, or their rules, anymore."

  "Then they shall see me and the fruit of Our wrath firsthand. Keep
speaking until they listen. My Father is angry. My Mother is angry.
All the Gods and Goddesses are angry. Thine is not a short-term task.
Man has always been foolish and stubborn. If thou dost die with thy task
unfinished, it will not be counted against thee. We expect no other
outcome than the need for generations of correction. Speak my words.
The fruit will come, though thou may not live to see it."

  "Mankind's continued existence hangs by a thread. We took a vote and
preserving mankind by reforming him won by a single vote. That vote
did not come easily, you have nine years to show a noticeable
improvement. We must take another vote then and if man is not on the
right path you will lose. Thou hast the task of spreading the word,
others will have other tasks. Speak loudly, Oh My Mouth."

  "What is 'noticeable improvement'? How can we know our efforts will
pay off?"

  "You can't. If heads have cooled then the second vote will fall in
man's favour with ease. If the current level of anger remains, you'd
better have a sizable number of people committed to the reform and
renewal visible. If mankind, as a whole, has sunk lower we shall
cleanse Middle Earth of man and his works."

  "One more thing," said Thunderer. "Mother sent out a prophetic vision
to several women who do listen to gods. Thou hast not heard it yet,
for thou readest not the blogs on which it has spread. In it she has
said that any virgin who sacrifices her maidenhead through thee will
be greatly blessed. I do not wish thee to act as a divine gigolo. I
have too much work for thee to do. Spurn not a sincere virgin who
wishes to make sacrifice, but only when time allows. Work up a public
ritual with witnesses to the dedication of their sacrifice, not the
act itself, but the offer and acceptance. That should cut down on the
number of offers," the God said with a chuckle.

  "Deflowering virgins? What was your mother thinking of? Surely that
undermines your own message"

  "In the short-term, yes. Understand that we as a group have many
items on our list of ideas to impart to man. Our priority lists
differ. For most of us, the behaviours Mother is promoting with this
prophecy are way down on the list and will not be handled for years,
perhaps generations--if mankind survives. For her, they are nearer the
top of the list. Personal sacrifice and deep dedication are part of
it, and there we agree. Other parts are younger marriage for women than
the leading nations allow today and plural marriage too. We, all of us
other than mother, place these nearer the bottom of the list and urged
her to wait. She didn't listen to us."

  "You want me to have sex with little girls? Oh, that will go over
well!"

  "No, no! Well, Mother might, but thou doest work for me. We must
prepare the ground well for such changes. Do not get thyself arrested
over very young women!"

  "We won't find many virgins over the legal age these days."

  "Overall, that is lamentable. For dealing with Mother's prophecy,
that is feature, not a bug."

  With that the God left me to my own thoughts. They boiled furiously.

                        *         *         *

  Over the next two weeks I went out almost daily to appear somewhere
in the five states within driving distance. On the drive to the first
Pittsburgh event the God had said, "This will be thy symbol as my
prophet." A stone ax appeared on the floor of the passenger side.
"Carry it whenever a prop is appropriate. Take some care with it. I
took it, with permission, from the grave of a mighty warrior king of
old. Its name is Geatslayer." The ax was newly hafted, but clearly the
head was ancient. "For pleasing crowds, thy might learn ax throwing and
carry a target to outdoor events. Thou hast an ax and some hatchets
among thy tools."

  My reception at events wasn't all that positive. I had the same
message as the main speakers, but those speakers didn't have a god
smiting people who disagreed. Even people who shared the same message
sometimes refused to speak on the same platform. Organizers rejected
me. One prominent Catholic radio talk show hostess turned her back on
me at a school choice march. Protesters were much more hostile, even
violent. Cops didn't try to defend me. Of course, my God's idea of turn
the other cheek is geared toward improving your aim.

  At the end of those weeks, the farm came into my hands. Thunderer gave
me a few days to settle in. On His advice I turned a log into a target
and practiced throwing my collection of edged tools, knives as well as
axes, at it. I'd done it before, though not with any serious intent, now
I was honing the skills. My nearest neighbor turned out to be a member
of a Buckskinner group and was skilled in throwing edged weapons.  We
built a friendship while he gave some coaching.

  I also took to online correspondence with the Asatru community.
Thunder told me to use them as a resource. Though they were few, for
now, they had followers scattered in many places. They had rituals the
God was comfortable with and had been following my story from the
first. They weren't perfect, they would have things to learn from me,
just as I would from them. After a bit of back and forth, one of the
founders and chief men in the movement invited me to spend the last
three weeks of December with his family. It was halfway through
November then. John Hawthorn had been a newly minted schoolteacher
with a degree in English Literature and a hobby of medieval
reenactment. He and a few like minded men and women had explored the
idea of recreating the old "Viking Religion". The project migrated from
a casual hobby to a serious pursuit for some of them and he'd led the
founding of a religious group based on it. They hadn't been alone,
similar movements were afoot in Europe. Now, thirty years onward,
they were worldwide, though few in number, and reviled by more liberal
"New Age" pagans. Still they had something to offer.

  "Use them as a foundation to build on. It will save reinventing
everything from scratch. There is not, and never has been, a 'One True
Religion'. If we cared about such things, we'd have meddled with man
much more and much earlier. So long as it leads man to right moral
behavior, the trappings are optional. Thou art my prophet, not my
priest, but everyone will expect thee to perform some priestly acts.
There is an advantage to claiming clerical status as well. I will
plant a major holy site near here as soon as thou art skilled to lead
in its usage. Recruit and train others to do the day to day work as
quickly as possible. Start with that neighbor."

  I invited my neighbor, Jack Strawhouse, and his family to dinner. I
was kind of embarrassed. I'd hardly bought any furnishings yet. Still,
the kitchen was fully furnished and I served them a good meal. Jack
had a wife, a teenage daughter and a son bordering on his teens.

  "You know the God I serve is real," I said.

  "We can't deny that! We hear him at our place, almost half a mile
away," said his wife.

  "Sorry. I keep asking him to be quieter. Jack, you're a worship
leader at your church? Thunderer is going to set up some sort of shrine
around here. I'll need someone to man it day to day. Have you thought
of converting?"

  "You're kidding, right? Everyone around here is some kind of
protestant. They won't have anything to do with your shrine or your
religion. If I convert, no one will speak to my family anymore. Hell,
they won't even speak to Catholics!"

  "But, my god is real. They can all hear him speak to me, if they come
close enough to the house. The Christian God is just a fiction cooked
up by adding all the gods and goddesses together. The ancestors of the
Hebrews did that for the same reason that secularists deny all gods
today. They wanted to do things the Gods don't allow. They just didn't
go as far in breaking the rules."

  "That's not going to cut it around here," said Jack.

  "It will soon. I don't think Thunderer's going to be possible to
ignore for long. The pay will be good. I can't tell you what the hours
or duties will be yet."

  "I'll think about it, no promises."

  "Speaking of thinking of things," said his daughter, "have you
thought about virgins?"

  "No, have you seen virgins lining up at my door?"

  Mother and daughter shared a glance and a giggle.

  "They might very soon," said Mom.

  Jack said, "What are you two talking about?"

  "Thundermouth is supposed to deflower virgins as part of his duties.
Its all over the 'net," said his wife. "I can think of one virgin
who's interested, though I'm sure we won't give her permission."

  Jack's jaw dropped to the floor. "Is that true? You're supposed to
screw girls? My daughter's not ready, if that's what you had in mind!"

  "Calm down. I don't see many women likely to want this old hide. I'm
not going after any girls and not having any underage ones if I do. 
Look, the God wants a ritual of dedication. We don't have a ritual yet.
We don't have anywhere to hold a ritual yet. We don't have anyone to
conduct it, yet."

   "The girls at school will be disappointed. We're all talking about
what it would be like."

  At that moment I had a feeling of inspiration that came from
Thunderer. "The same benefits will be given to women who save
themselves for their wedding night. That is a guarantee from the Gods."

  Conversation lagged after that exchange. The family left as soon as
supper was over. Jack loosened up enough to offer to come over and
throw sharp things at my target the next day and to bring his son, as
well.

  "Go into town today," Thunderer's voice boomed out soon after I
awoke. "Thou needest furniture, and thou needest to show thyself to the
people around here. Each day I don't send thee away, spend some time in
town. Don't preach, but answer every question asked. Thou wilt need
a congregation and helpers once the worship area is in place." 

  I did go to town and I spent time with Jack later in the day. People
might have been standoffish in other circumstances, but under the ones
we faced, they were trying to adjust. That did not mean they were all
that friendly. Some were, some were hostile, but they didn't ignore
me.

  Between that day and the day I left for California I resumed going
to rallies and abortion "clinics". John Hawthorn lived on the border of
California and Nevada. On December First I began packing the car. We
already had snow on the ground and it wasn't melting at all.
Thunderer stopped me. "I'll get thee there on time. Today, run up to
Cleveland."

  On the appointed day, Thunderer told me to drive west. I'd gone less
than a mile when the strangest thing happened. The world disappeared,
sort of. I could see...nothing. I mean that I could see, but there was
nothing around me.  One might argue that this was true of every sense,
but taste, smell, and touch wouldn't have been in play anyway. The
sensation lasted at least a minute and then I was on a road in a very
different place. Thunderer directed me through several turns and I
entered a freeway in Nevada, just a few miles from the California
line. I was at Hawthorn's house in an hour, just as he was returning
from work. We settled me into the guest room and sat down to talk.

  "What should I call you," he asked.

  "The God took away my name. I think of myself as 'Mouth now."

  We made some small talk for a while. Then he asked, "Besides the
usual rituals, what do you need from me? How much is going to have to
change?"

  "I don't quite know how much your theology will have to change. Some,
but not much. I need you to help me create a couple rituals and to
practice them and spread them to co-religionists. I've been spanking
women who almost aborted their babies, then telling them they are
forgiven. We could use a little ritual to standardize that and
encourage Heathens to go to "clinics" to put it to use. I need
something like that, but much more elaborate, for people who've done
things the Gods have condemned. Not a little ritual, but a grand one
with a confession, punishment, purification, and forgiveness.
Something involving multiple functionaries. That one stays with the
group I'm building for the place the God is planting near me, unless
the God says otherwise. It will be a stretch for everyone in the world
to make a pilgrimage to a tiny town in the backwater of Ohio. One
more, and this one will be for me only. I need a ritual to dedicate the
sacrifice of virginity. Make it similar to a wedding to the God, with
me as the stand-in groom."

  "We should work on the last one first." John scratched in his beard
for a moment. "We have a young lady here who wants to give her
maidenhead to the God. Her parents agree and the whole community is
looking forward to it."

  "Her parents agree? How old is she?"

  "Seventeen. She'll be eighteen in February, but you'll be gone
then."

  "How important is it to do this now? I'm trying not to be arrested
too often in this job."

  "Look, I understand you've been laying low on this virgin thing.
Believe me I do. This community, and the wider Asatru community too,
are looking forward to leading the world to comply with the gods.
Well, most of are. There are some things not everyone is aboard with.
We've stayed out of the controversial things until now. That has to
change, obviously. We also are looking forward to enjoying the
blessings to be had. My wife was one of the first seers to receive the
prophesy. We've been planning this since you were named. Her parents
were my earliest converts, and the girl has grown up in the religion
from birth. How important do you think it is to us?"

  There was only one answer for that. We set the date for the ritual
to take place on Thursday, the Gods day, two days from my arrival.
Then we worked on the ritual. We adapted the wedding rite, placing me
as a stand-in groom for Thunderer. It was easy.

  "We hope for a child," said John.

  "A child? You want me to sire children who will grow up without a
father?"

  "Your child will have a father. A step-father. We have two young
Heathens in the military competing for her hand. The only question is
which one will win her heart? They both know what we're doing here and
will welcome a child of Thunderer."

  Later I prayed to the God, "We ought to have a way to mark virgins I
take in your name. Something permanent, but discrete and pretty. Girls
like pretty."

  "I like thy idea. What doth thou suggest?"

  "What about an acorn? That's one of your symbols. Small, precious
stone or metal? A piercing?"

  "Done! Use this."

  A tiny gold acorn popped into existence on the nightstand. It had a
fine gold ring through the cap. It was a perfect reproduction, just as
if it had grown on a tree.

  "Pierce her at the base of the neck and thread the ring in. I'll
seal the ends. That won't be removable except by surgery. Always
there, and pretty. No one can have one unless I provide it. Is that
what thou wanted?"

  "I've never pierced anyone before. Do you think she'll let me?"

  "Yes. This girl will. We'll persuade the others, if there are any.
It won't hurt, I'll take care of that."

  The ritual took place as scheduled. Hawthorn presided. The young
lady, Freda Penrose, wore her mother's wedding dress. Once the vows
were exchanged, I led her out for the first dance, a polka, provided by
an electric folk band. Food and drink, lots of drink, were consumed.
Toast after toast was offered. When evening was creeping over us, we
retired to my room in Hawthorn's house.

  "Is this all real?" Freda asked. "Is this a dream I'll wake up
from?"

  "It's real. You're wed to Thunderer now until you marry a man.
Unfortunately your stuck with me as his stand-in."

  "Is that supposed to be bad? I can think of a worse fate, more than
one."

  "I'm old and worn out. A sweet young girl surely wants a better
looking man by her side."

  "Worn out? Have you looked in the mirror?"

  She led me to the mirror. My wounds from the lightning had healed
and my hair and beard grown back. I looked and saw that the color was
back, no more grey. My beard had more red in it than had been true for
most of my life. I'd always had some, now red dominated it. The middle
age spread was gone, my belly was flat and tight. Muscles stood out on
my arms and chest. I was wiry rather than bulky, that had always been
true. My face was unchanged, the wrinkles still there, but the rest was
renewed. I'd seen myself all along, of course. I hadn't paid attention.

  "A girl could do a lot worse," she said.

  "A girl as pretty as you could find a lot better. You can afford to
be choosy."

  She blushed. "I chose a God. Will I have a God tonight, or must I
have my imagination and hand?" She gazed invitingly at me. I took the
hint. I wrapped her in my arms and kissed her.

  I treated her to a thorough kissing and all the foreplay I could
manage while she remained in the stiff and bulky dress. I unzipped the
dress and began to lower the top. Freda colored and gripped it tight.

  "I...This is silly. I asked for this. It's hard to change from no to
yes and all at once."

  She let go of the dress. She wore no bra. Support was built into the
bodice of the dress. Her breasts were small and firm. She giggled when
I kissed them. I smothered her chest with kisses. She rolled around and
laughed when I kissed her armpit. I shucked her out of the dress and
hung it on a hanger.

  We wrapped ourselves together in our underwear. I treated her to all
the tricks of foreplay I knew from my limited experience. She
responded enthusiastically. We finally reached the point where she
lost patience and demanded I get to the main event.

  I worked myself into place and asked if she was ready. She nodded
and I pushed gently. I could feel her maidenhead part, but she showed
no sign of pain. I asked if she was ready to ride. She smiled and
nodded.

  We stayed in missionary the whole time. I asked her, more than once,
if she'd like to try a different position, but she turned me down. She
seemed to enjoy looking into my eyes and playing with my chest. I
played with hers and she enjoyed that too. She wrapped her legs around
my tail, trapping me in place. I reached the point where I couldn't
hold on any longer. I was scared I'd leave her hanging, but I felt her
start to spasm just before I did. We collapsed together, side by side.

  A few minutes later I presented her with the acorn. She was
delighted. I had sterilized a needle ahead of time and stored it in an
alcohol soaked pad. She scrunched her face as I held it to her skin.
There was no blood as I pushed it through her skin. The wire went
though without a hitch and sealed seamlessly.

  "Can we do that again? I'll let you try other positions this time."

  "In a while. I need some recovery time."

  We did have one more roll together before snuggling in to sleep.

  I woke to see her returning from the bathroom. She smelled of soap
as she planted a kiss on my face. "This sex stuff is messier than I
thought," she said. "I thought I'd like to do it one more time this
morning, but I haven't time for another shower."

  Freda had graduated in the Spring and worked at a bookstore. She had
just enough time for breakfast.

  The rest of the family had school and work to go to. I was left
alone to read up on Asatru. John's library was the best on that
subject anywhere in the world.

  Until the Holiday break started, I spent each day attending events
in the area, just like back home. Freda stayed with me the whole time,
working in the days and sleeping with me at night.

  When the family was home for the day, John and I practiced rituals.
We worked on new ones. There were a bunch of events unique to Yule
that we participated in with the rest of the community. I learned a
lot and made some friends I'd never have met otherwise.

  All things end, good or bad, and I reached the last day. I said
goodbye to the family. Then it was time to say goodbye to Freda. It
was a bittersweet parting. I had never had a wife or live-in
girlfriend. Freda had a rich life ahead of her without me. I was
returning to a state of loneliness I'd never realized I'd suffered
from before. We'd started out as two strangers fulfilling a common
task we both believed was right. Over the three weeks we'd become very
close and ending that closeness was hard. We still both believed in
the common mission and we had different parts to play apart from one
another. We shared a last deep kiss and both broke into tears as I
climbed into my car.

                        *         *         *

  I did not return directly home. The God sent me to an ad hoc rally
for a bill to strengthen child abuse reporting laws as applied to
abortionists, in Columbus. The bill had been stuck in a Senate committee
since August. Ohio's law was laxer than neighboring states, this bill
would fix that. It wasn't all the gods might want, but it was a step
in the right direction. Because it was a spur of the moment rally, the
organizer, who had previously denied me a chance to speak at other
rallies, let me on the platform. She had little choice since there were
few speakers and an unknown time before the vote was to be taken.

  The rally wasn't all sweetness and light. A group of opponents of
the bill threatened me. Neither the police nor my fellow backers cared
to aid me. They came very close to learning what had once made the
stone ax the premier weapon of war. I doubt the prior owner would have
cared if I used it. None of my would be attackers dared to be the
first to move against me. There was some sweetness though. A young
woman offered me her virginity. I took her contact information and
promised to get back to her as soon as I got organized.

                        *         *         *

  I was at home when Thunderer dropped an unhewn needle of stone
onto an Indian mound on the edge of town. The stone stuck up twelve
feet above ground and had a hole at eye level to me. The land was
private and for sale. The God told me to buy it and build a temple and
hall on it. The reason the land was undeveloped, and for sale, was the
difficulty of obtaining land use permits allowing the mound to be
disturbed. Neither Thunderer nor I cared about the legal niceties.
My first act in the new temple, other than the goat sacrifice to
dedicate it, was to take the virginity of the young lady from
Columbus. We did that at my house. It was February, after all. Jack,
his family, and a small cadre of converts cheered us on.

  Her name was Sally Bumgartener. She was a bouncy, buxom, blond.
Old jokes might make blonds out to be silly, but Sally was anything
but. She'd preserved her virginity to the age of twenty three because
she'd seen the sorrow her friends suffered from giving in to boys who
didn't stick around. She'd dated and sought for a husband. So far, no
man had wanted to commit to marriage. Frigga had promised that gals who
sacrificed to Thunderer would have a loving husband and a large family.
Sally believed.

  She worked as a hairstylist in a Columbus salon. She'd heard the
woes of a thousand and one women who'd suffered from modern moral
behaviour. She'd also heard from plenty who enjoyed conventional
lives. The conventional women might be boring, but they were happy
too. Sally wanted that.

  She'd been raised by non practising vaguely Christian parents. She'd
never been part of a church and never paid attention to religion. When
Thunderer showed up in broad daylight, Sally woke up and paid
attention. She was studying and corresponding to connect with people
who could steer her to the Gods. She'd heard about the prophesy. How
could anyone get closer to a God than to give him her virginity?

  We talked things over and I had here arrive a week before the
ceremony so that we could get to know one another. I put her in a
guest room. Her sunny nature brightened up the house considerably.

  On the day of the ritual she was as nervous as a cat in a room full
of rocking chairs.

  "Goodness! What are these people going to think of me," she asked.

  "These people are believers, converts, though new to it. They think
this is what is supposed to happen. They envy you."

  "But they know what we're going to do! They'll know when we do it!"

  "That's no different from a wedding. These folks wish you well,
truly they do. Get to know some of them. We're learning as we go, but
this is the main shrine to the Gods. We're here to serve and teach."

  The ritual at the God's stone went well enough for the first time
anyone but me had participated. We had to clear space with a snowblower.
The sacrifice wore a pink parka. We didn't linger a minute longer than
necessary.

  The party in the house was lively. One thing about the Elder Gods,
they love a good party. I had intended to slip out and take Sally back
to my bed as soon as we could make excuses. The ladies overruled me.
They talked Sally into tugging me into the office and locking the
door. We sacrificed her maidenhead with her bent over the desk and all
the guests shouting advice through the door.

  Sally was pleased. Thunderer was pleased. I had fun.

  Sally decided to make the trip to attend our Thursday evening prayer
and study sessions every week. We had another convert.

                        *         *         *

  Thunderer had odd ideas about who might make good potential
converts. He's God, he can see into hearts. What he saw there could
sometimes cause me to shake my head in wonder.

  When summer came he sent me to a bike racing week. Bikers, not the
outlaws who are lost causes, would flock to my message. I had my doubts.
Bikers tend to be social liberals. They favor rather loose sexual
morals, the opposite of what the gods were requiring of mankind.
Thunderer assured me that some of them would change their minds and
join the side of reform. They had panache and persistence. Once
recruited, they would be great evangalizers.

  I had no reluctance to going. I've loved bikes since I was a kid and
ridden them since I first had a license. I bought my first one at
sixteen. In January I'd bought a new Indian Chief and was eager to
take it on the road. True to the God's promise, the weather had been
rotten. He assured me it would be good for this trip.

  The meet was in Georgia. I arrived towing a trailer with camping
equipment. I was plopped onto a site between two clubs, and they not
knowing who I was, took me in as one of their own. During the day I
watched the races. At night we partied. At all times I spoke the words
Thunderer gave me, and they listened and argued with me. Slowly, ever
so slowly, some of them moved to my side. They'd heard of the God's
actions and action spoke louder than words. One convert was the
President of the Smokey Mountains Motorcycle Club. He, his wife, and
his sister all became vocal supporters. Some of his club members
followed his lead.

  "What," he asked, "must we do to serve the God?"

  "Spread the word. Man must stop killing our children and perverting
their minds." I said. "We must stop perverting the nature of the
sexes. We must treated the natural family as sacred. Spreading the
word could use a more fun and friendly outlet. Divine punishment can
only go so far. A traveling road revival could win hearts that fear
cannot reach. If I can train preachers, would you be willing to go on
the road?"

  "We'll have to think that over," he said. He promised to talk it
over with his members and get back to me with an answer. I warned him
that time was limited and riding seasons would be short. He agreed to
make the discussion a priority.

  "In the mean time, there is my niece to think about," he said with a
grin. "She's been convinced the Gods are genuine since the first.
She's looking forward to sacrificing her maidenhead. We still have two
nights left."

  His niece, Cathy Ely, known as Cat, was fifteen. She was way too
young, to my way of thinking. The Gods disagreed.

  "Negotiate," Thunderer said. "Thou wilt accept her offer at the
temple if the club will bring her there. Thou wilt expect them to
volunteer at that time, but that will be negotiable then. She may make
sacrifice either way."

  "And what, Oh God, will keep me out of jail?" I asked.

  "We will see to it that thou dost not end up there."

  We worked out a date, the weekend two weeks after the meet ended. In
the meantime the prospective "sacrifice" and I spent the rest of the
week together getting to know one another. We went to races, I like
the dirt track and she favored motocross. I taught her to throw hatchets
and knives.  Cat was a cute little carrot-top kid. She was skinny, but
so were her mom and uncle, so I expect she'll stay that way. She came
up to my chin, though she's likely to add another couple of inches
before she stops growing. I was still nervous about sleeping with her,
but she wasn't. This club was conventional about partnering, but they
did get a bit loose at night. Seeing a couple get frisky wasn't unusual
and Cat took it for granted. She was disappointed that I was making her
wait.

  The meet ended and I went home. Alone. Being alone was starting to
hurt.

                        *         *         *

  Jack had taken on the role of Temple leader with gusto. The Asatru
don't have a formal priesthood. So far as historical records show
there never was one in the old days. Instead, every man was priest for
his household. Thanes and village headmen had led local rites. Kings
and Earls had done so for the nations. Modern realities being what they
are, Asatru recognize some natural leader as the one who will lead
rites, and some men and women act as teachers known as Godi. We'd
recruited middle-aged women to do penitential birchings in teams of
three. They were acting as Valkyries, kind of like Greek furies. So far
we'd not had any takers, but we had had enquiries. In the mean time,
some of them acted as staff. May the Gods bless dedicated women.

  We'd planted an oval ring of stones around the stone the God had
planted. The entry was at the West end and the God's stone at the
East. To honor the spirits of the of the land and the mound builders
we'd placed a bowl before a figurine that had been uncovered during the
building by the entrance. An offering of cornmeal and tobacco was
renewed each day. The old offerings were poured down a disused animal
burrow. Coins left by visitors helped pay for the offerings. We'd built
a longhouse style hall next to the ring. It served as our meeting hall
and office and any other use we could put it to. With the Ice Age
climate and stormy weather we needed indoor space. Everything was new
and raw.  Construction was still ongoing, though the main work was done.

  When the motorcycle club rolled up we were ready for them. An alter
was placed before the God's stone, decorated with wedding flowers. An
aisle of poles supporting floral garlands led to it. We'd laid on food
and drink in the hall.

  Our sacrificial lady wore a white summer dress and a baby breath
garland in her hair. Her parents were divorced and her father didn't
keep in touch, so her uncle led her to the alter. The rest of the club
lined the aisle to watch. Jack presided. Thunderer allowed us a perfect
day, partly cloudy and warm. The diffused sunlight showed off our
worship site in its best light, hiding some of the rawness. It
flattered the bride as well, though she didn't need the help. She'd
done her long, fiery, hair in a fall of wavy ringlets that cascaded
down her back and chest like a lava flow. Here pale skin showed the
faintest markings of restrained makeup accents. However, the best part
of all was the broad grin that brought out her dimples. Did I forget
to mention the dimples before? I'm a sucker for dimples.

  Because it was warm and pleasant, we took the ritual at a pace that
showed off its nuances. Jack is a natural showman and was wasted in
his former occupation as an accountant. It had been weekends in
buckskins that had allowed him to shine. Jack's son, Craig, was
another and his alter service flowed. Jack spoke the Invocation to
Thunderer with solemn dignity. I was afraid the God would chime in and
spoil the show, but he didn't. Then there was the Intention, a twenty
five second rehash of the prophesy delivered with dramatic flair. Then
the Presentation. First he presented the mead that would be served.
Then it was Cathy's turn. She was presented to the God in the form of
the stone. Her virtues were extolled. Her willingness to give all to
the God proclaimed. Personally, I thought Jack overdid this part.
Everyone else later said they loved it. Cat was led forward to kiss
the stone. Then came the Consecration. It was my turn to join the
show. The Oath Ring was handed to Cat and I took the other side. Jack
gave a short exhortation on the solemness of oaths and the dread
penalties for breaking them. He then had Cat speak, giving herself
body and soul to the Thunderer through the offer of her maidenhead.
I accepted as Gods stand-in and Jack called on everyone present as
witnesses. He then took the large horn of mead from Craig and spoke a
toast to the oath. He poured a libation, drank to the toast and handed
the horn to Cat. She presented it to me, serving me a sip, then drank
to the toast and passed the horn to Craig, who handed it to the first
person in the circle of witnesses to drink to the toast. The last
person made sure the horn was drained. Individual cups were passed
out and filled so that each well-wisher could offer a toast to the
sacrifice. By the time the round was done everyone was feeling pretty
good. The ritual was over and it was time for the party.

  Cat wasn't allowed to drink, nor were the other minors in
attendance, and the toasts had been more than she was used to drinking.
Games and dancing gave her a chance to work off the alcohol without
ill effect. Jack's daughter, Jane, became her sidekick. The two were
kept blushing by the ribald teasing of Cat's friends and relations.
The day was so fine, and fine days so rare, that most of the party
happened in the Hall's yard. Darts and some tables were set up inside
for those who felt the need. A grand barbecue was laid on outdoors.
Picnic games were set up and a storyteller entertained young and old
alike.

  Cat and I slipped off as soon as the main sitting of lunch was over.
We didn't manage to go unnoticed. Not with everyone watching for it to
happen and my bike equipped with loud pipes. Lewd suggestions followed
us, people didn't.

  Cat wasn't shy. She was all over me the moment we were inside the
door. She was eager, but she was also unpracticed. Some of her attempts
to mimic the things she'd seen her elders do fell flat. We had more
than one laugh over that. She dropped her dress the moment the door
closed and juggled her little tits at me. I reached out to cup them
and she fell into my hands. Literally. In her haste she tripped over
the discarded dress. She welcomed my hands roaming her body with a
dimpled grin. Did I mention that I'm a sucker for dimples?

  She soon had my tie and shirt off and flung across the room. She
opened my trousers and gave a blow job a try. She went too far too
fast and gagged. After that, she took my suggestion to slow down and
enjoy herself instead of rushing to do everything at once. She had
nothing to prove and no one to prove it to.

  We sampled a range of touching and kissing, and were soon fully
aroused. We didn't bother going up to the bed, we used the couch and
floor. She gave cock sucking a more reasonable try. She decided she
liked it and the grin that said so made me decide I liked dimples even
more than I had before. She loved it when I parted her fiery bush to
lick and kiss. She loved every touch, kiss, and lick everywhere I
tried.

  She'd come here to specifically to feel manhood stuffed inside her.
She eventually decided she'd had enough messing around outside and
wanted to get to it. She'd consulted sex manuals and a couple porn
videos. She wanted to try every position. We gave it a try. She
finally showed some nervousness as I inserted myself, then grinned
when I was all the way in and told me to start thrusting. We went
through several variations on missionary. We rolled around to try some
side positions. She rode me. Then we tried rear entry, and she found
the one she really liked best. Face down on the couch. Butt up, with
me thrusting hard. By that point we had already gone on longer than I
thought I'd last, so maybe that had something to do with her
perception.  Regardless, she wanted to stay that way. We didn't last
very long after she made that decision. We came together, the Goddess
seem to take care of that detail, and I came hard and long. From the
feel, I left a generous supply of my seed in her.

  We snuggled through the afterglow and then it was time to award her
the acorn. "That's amazing!" she cried. "It's really mine? All the
other girls will be so jealous."

  I pierced her and threaded it in. "It's yours all right. Forever."

  She studied herself in the mirror, then rewarded me with a kiss.
And a smile. With dimples!

  We cleaned up and returned to the party. She showed off her acorn
and survived the teasing from the other guests. The girls were indeed
jealous. They wanted one too, but most were either not willing to make
the sacrifice or not eligible to do so. Parties end, and this one
wound down eventually.

  Cat slept in my arms that night. We'd crammed as many as possible
into the house and put cots for the rest in the hayloft. I awoke to a
hen party occupying my kitchen. Breakfast was lively, tasty, and
generous. The whole nature of the house moved from gloomy to cheerful
while they were there. Ed "Bones" Bonewitt, Cat's uncle, and some of the
other leaders of the club met me in the afternoon. Those members who
were ready to embrace the Gods and their message would go on the road
with me. We worked out some preliminary details, and then they mounted
up to return home and ready themselves for the workweek.

  The house was empty and lonely again.

                        *         *         *

  I prayed to Thunderer one night after a grueling day at an abortion
mill. "Mighty God, I can't stand the loneliness anymore. Is there no
one who can share my burdens? It wouldn't even need to be a lover,
companions would be fine."

  "Thou ought to marry that little redhead." He boomed.

  "She's too young! She won't want me, and the law won't allow us to
marry. I don't even know how you're keeping me from being charged for
bedding her. We had enough witnesses, they can't all have remained
silent."

  "The Sheriff is sympathetic. If thou wilt only befriend him, he'll
join thy congregation. The Prosecutor has no charges and can't move
against you without them. In truth, she prefers to ignore this sort of
thing unless there is evidence of abuse. The legal battles are too
messy and unsure."

  "Back to Miss Ely," said Frigga. "Thou should marry her. The two of
you are a perfect fit. I made you both for each other."

  "The law will be no stumbling block," said another male voice I'd
not heard before. I learned later he was Woden. "She'll be sixteen in
October. Your laws say a sixteen year old may marry with her parent's
permission. A judge may think your ages violate the spirit of the law,
but the letter is on thy side."

  That is just what I did. My life after marriage is a different story
altogether, so I'll end this one here.

                                  g__T
                                 <8
                                _/ \_
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