Journey of a Muscle God 3
by F_R_Eaky
Day Fou…..Day Five:
Journal,
I wish I could say that the events of last night, or rather the night before were the strangest I’ve ever encountered, but after today, I’m not so sure. First off I guess I should explain that I was so thoroughly exhausted from evening sleep, that I pretty much slept the whole day away. No matter, Reverend Crowley was on hand to bring me dinner and something to drink, not to mention my now becoming habitual herbal tea. I had almost wanted to stay up all night as I slept so long during the day, but another tea of cammomile and mint soothed me back into a nice long nap.
So today I was completely charged to go do something, and do something I did. Jansen apparently decided to trek down to the town early in the morning and everyone of course told me about it and that I should perhaps keep an eye on him cause the last thing the archaelogical team needed was a bad reputation with the local townsfolk. Crowley even suggested that we go down as there were a few items we were low on in the mess tent.
The trek being made, I thought perhaps I needed to see if there were any clothes I might be able to buy in my size. I felt completely miserable on the way down the mountain. Neither my shirt nor my pants seemed to bunch nor hang right on me. It all felt just a pinch too snug- I guess it really had been a couple of years since I’d been on a dig, and I’ve eaten at far too many university banquet dinners to get this dig approved. Maybe Jansen has the right idea for spare time – a little exercise.
Crowley and I had only gone down two stores on one block of the town when we ran into our original purpose for coming down, Jansen. He walked, no lumbered, no staggered out the door of a bar with two petite women under each arm desperately trying to keep him up and not fall on them. They were laughing, he was laughing, they giggle, he belched, they smelled of perfume and incense, he smelled of wine – and lots of it! Neither of us were watching where we were going and THUD right into the side of Jansen I went, sending him sprawling on the ground, the two ladies tumbling beside him.
“Oooh whassh the fuck! I’m drunk asssh a shkunk and you dickweedth can’t see where YOU’rrrrree going. Shhhtupit shhhhit.t. “
Jansen went into automatic ragging bull mode and reached out his hand to grab his ‘attacker.’ He couldn’t quite hold my neck so he grabbed me by my ear and finger fulls of my hair.
“Jansen! You lumbering ox, let me go now!”
Jansen stood there adjusting his eyes till he could see my face and then he let me go, turning his back on me and doing a walk around that was pretty good for a man in his state of inibreation.
“Teh!” he let out an exasperated gasp. “fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck……whazuh shit, dude!?! I come down for a lil’ R & R and you follow me here to ruin it!”
“I didn’t come down here to ruin it, I came down here to temper it! We don’t need bad publicity of someone of our team coming down here and getting so drunk he’s tighter than a drum head, and using his peter to beat all the local girls with to whatever rythym he’s marching, especially when it’s being done by a member of our team that’s large enough to be a walking billboard!”
“You jusssh wissshh you were assss bigk and strongk asssh I am!”
“It’d be nice. I could use the ability to make up for what you’re not doing! R & R….it’s only day five and you need to take a break, when you haven’t done anything and haven’t helped anyone?”
“Pissssh offfff you lil’ fukker.”
And he turned to leave with the two ladies he had back under his arms. I looked up the road at Reverend Crowley who shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “what are you going to do?” as the trio passed him. I turned to go back down the road and look into a few more shops when suddenly I heard high pitched voices and screams and turned back to see Crowley down on the ground cowering like something came after him, Jansen lumbering further up the road, and a cart barreling down the road just past the two of them.
People were screaming and hollering, ducking and jumping to get out of the way of this cart, but of course there at the end of the street stood two small boys, both reverting back in their evolution, becoming motionless deer with glazed eyes. What could I do. I looked, I glanced, I turned… no one was moving towards those boys. No one was calling out to them. I had didn’t have a prayer in the world, but I had to try and reach those boys, otherwise they were going to get killed.
I started sprinting down the road, praying for time to stop and stand still, praying that I could somehow be fast enough when I hadn’t taken up running since my college days. Then everything felt like a movie: The cart, the people, seemed to just stop, suddenly frozen. Then they all became one gigantic blur and if suddenly smeared across the air. I know it was an optical illusion because I had my eyes focused on the boys. I’m not sure how I did it, but I got there, just before that cart. Thank god for the old ruts in these Greco-Roman roads, stalling the arrival of that thing. Panting and wheezing, I bent down and grabbed those boys, then flipping back on my back and rolling into the wall of the nearest side building.
The cart collided with the building at the end of the street and made a horrendous crash. Wood pieces and splinters were flying everywhere, along with small bits of brick and mortar. The two boys were lying there breathless and crying. Their mother came out of what appeared to be a clothing shop at the end of the street. She came out screaming and screeching, with a look of pure hatred and like she was going to strike me and tell me off. But then she stopped, looking down in the middle of the road to see her boys’ sandals amidst the debris of the ruined runaway cart. Suddenly she was all tears and smiles, and she was grabbing my hands and shaking them saying, “thank you, thank you, thank you” hundreds of times.
After a while she grabbed her kids and ushered them into the store. I would’ve followed, after all it was one of the stops I was wanting to make, but soon there were tons of other people from the village, all smiling and patting me on the back. Slowly the crowd was moving and ushering me into a cantina of some sorts. I was looking around, spinning in the crowd trying to find Reverend Crowley. He was there, on the outskirts of the crowd, motioning for me to just roll with it.
Eventually we all made it inside the cantina. I was sat down and they pushed the Reverend up towards me and got a seat for him too. Everyone was looking at me, smiling, chattering away, grabbing my hand, patting my back – it became quite a din and blurred moment of time. Crowley eventually started talking to me telling me what was going on.
“Just sit back and relax. We’re not going to be able to do anything today. They are all here to greet the hero. They are all wishing you well and thanking you for saving those two boys. Each and every single one of them is buying you a drink to celebrate…except for that one over there, he won the dibs to be able to buy you and I dinner.”
“Jim, we’ve got too much stuff to do back at the site….”
“Won’t matter. They’ve sent runners up to bring everyone down from the dig. They’re buying them all dinner too and asking them party like there’s no tomorrow in your honor.”
“Great. That’ll take all of the work force.”
“Most of them being college aged students agreed.”
Indeed the night went on and on and on it seemed. Every person, every witness to the event was called upon to their side of the story, and each one ended with a drink being held up and the order to toast and salute me given, followed by the required swallow of whatever poison filled one’s cup. My god, I think it was three o’clock in the morning by the time we started back up the mountain to the encampment. Journal, this is day five. Tomorrow will be shot cause the entire crew will be recuperating from hangovers. How on earth are we going to be successful on this dig? I just don’t know…
Crowley saw me off. He walked me to my tent and pulled out a thermos full of that tea. He says it was another kind, but I recognize the smell by now. He was telling me it was a mint tea with something else – good for settling the stomach and curing hangovers. I hope it’s as easy as that so I don’t suffer. At least I know he’s a normal human now. He practically tripped into his tent, falling asleep before he made to his cot. I know we won’t be seeing and prayer re-enactment from him come the morning.
Night, or morning, once again!?! - Dr. Bradshaw.
Post Script:
It is about thirty minutes past dawn. I woke up a few minutes ago from a strange and fevered dream… I dreamt the woman from the street, the one with two boys I rescued, was here, on site. I could see her, walking slowly up the road towards the great temple. There was smoke rising from it, the usual stream of incense that Reverend Crowley has been recreating. This sounds weird, but I could swear she had walked up in toga. For some reason she donned the outfit of her ancestors and walked all the way up here.
She stopped at the doorway to the private temple part, where Crowley is all set up. She knelt down and Crowley bid her come forth and he held out a large platter lined with half shells all full of various powders. He pointed and explained, I guess, what each one was, then she smiled and chose one and walked over to the vase and poured the powder in. It came up with a great cloud of smoke and I could swear I could smell the aroma of it. Crowley started to chant, sing, some kind of phrase, and the woman picked it up.
On and on she kept chanting, and the more she chanted , the clearer I heard. The more I heard, the stranger I felt. I had to move….to reach….. to stretch. I kept twisting and turning, trying to get comfortable, as if I was trying to reach for something, to grab onto something and bend my muscles, pulling out an ach. Over and over I writhed, not in pain, but in ecstasy, rolling and bunching with my muscles, reaching and stretching with my limbs. And somehow the whole time I felt like I was getting heavier and heavier, harder and harder to move.
Then the feeling all welled up in my stomach, pulling and flipping my abs, suddenly moving down and all those sensations, felt like my balls we doing them, bunching, stretching, getting heavier and heavier. Then, my dick sprang to life, becoming erect, but it seemed to take forever this time. Slowly, slowly, it inflated and grew, millimeter by millimeter, each pulse of my blood causing it to swell just ever so slightly. This brief moment in time, for it can’t take that long for a dick to become erect, felt to drag on for an hour until my cock was so hard, throbbing so intensely, that it was beyond purple angry. It so hard, it could break bricks. Once again, it had grown too. No where near as large as the last time, but still, the head was up to my chest and thudded on it heavily.
Then there was the woman’s voice again, singing this chant so peacefully, so reverently, so fervently and each time her voice rose in pitch, I throbbed in excitement. She rose in volume, I throbbed in my pump. She rose in intensity, I rose in the feeling welling up in my balls. She sang, I throbbed. She chanted, I pulsed. She descanted, I pulsed with a feeling like I was being stroked! She praised, I felt heavier…..
AUUUUUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! I awoke with a start. My balls were spewing out cum through my dick like nobody’s business. This didn’t feel like ejaculating from a wet dream, it felt more like I was pissing my pants, except the fluid was much thicker. I’m delirious from lack of sleep, as it felt like I was spooing for a good ten minutes straight. It’s not possible. Still, when I finally sat up and moved the sleeping bag off of me, it was the largest wet spot I had ever seen from a wet dream. And the smell! So much freaking musk, I knew I couldn’t have peed myself.
I flipped over on my cot, opening the flap that is my window. The dawn was broken and the day beginning. There was smoke rising from the temple site and look down towards the town, I could swear I saw the woman leaving our encampment. I’m…I’m not sure what to think about all this. It must be exhaustion. I’m working to hard. I know I must be working to hard. I’ve been lifting a lot of extra stuff and weight while here. My night shirt is slightly split down the arms and back…
Night, Journal – Dr. Bradshaw
To be continued