
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.


