Rip Van Muscle 2
by Richard Jasper
Rip landed in water and thought, Oh, Shit, I'm gonna die!Then his feet hit the bottom of the cistern.
Oh, well, he amended. Maybe not.
Still, the water was pretty chilly and even though the night was warm it wouldn't stay that way. Rip knew he needed to get out of the cistern and out of his wet (crap, how much is THAT going to cost?) tux.
Rip circumnavigated the bottom of the cistern, which was about 10 feet across, looking for handholds. About halfway round, he found an opening, about chest height, or a foot above the water level, three or four feet wide and easily twice that much in height.
Shit, he thought, I must have fallen 15 feet!
Without giving it much thought, Rip crawled into the opening. It was out of the water and -- oh yeah! -- maybe it led to those alleged caverns!
To play it safe, Rip went on his hands and knees -- it was pitch black and he didn't need another fall!
He'd gone no more than six feet in when there was a sharp turn to the right and, amazingly, a soft rosy light emanating from some point up ahead. With no perspective to guide him, Rip couldn't tell if the tunnel was ten feet long or a hundred or a thousand!
Rip, now standing almost straight, headed for the light at the end of the tunnel.
Hmm, he thought. Maybe I'm dead, after all. Maybe this is an NDE!
And, yeah, let's face it, Rip was a geek -- he watched ALL of those shows!
Rip walked for 10 or 15 minutes before he reached the end of the tunnel, where he found yet another jog, this one to the left. He turned the corner and...
"Well, lord love a duck!" he exclaimed. "Look at that!"
The chamber he entered was easily 50 feet in height and two or three times that in diameter. It was a subterranean fairyland, stalactites and stalagmites, curtain walls, all suffused with the same warm, rosy glow that had no visible source but nonetheless seemed to be everywhere.
And smack in the middle of the chamber, on a circular dais six feet off the ground, was an enormous bed, carved from the living rock.
Actually, Rip thought, it looks more like a fossilized Viking ship.
But why would a fossilized Viking ship be made up with sheets and pillows and a luxurious quilt, all of which were obvious from where Rip stood at the entrance to the chamber?
Looking around, feeling as if he were invading someone else's bedroom, Rip approached the magnificent bed. It was easily eight feet long and six feet across. It looked...
Inviting, Rip thought.
Warm, he added to himself.
He stripped off his wet clothing and slipped under the covers.
Before his head hit the pillow, Rip was sound asleep.
***
Rip dreamed of muscle.
Tall, broad men, with flowing locks and bushy beards, impossibly huge chests covered in leather of metal breast plates, massive arms banded with serpents and dragons or sea monsters, finely wrought in gold or silver or copper.
Some were blond, others raven or auburn-haired, even a few Asian and African faces mixed in among them. They carried axes and pikes and hammers and slings, shields and bucklers.
They rode on ships and steeds and camels and elephants.
They ate gigantic platters of food and quaffed gallons of some liquid that left them flushed and gleaming, visibly stronger and more magnificent with each draught.
And then there was the sex.
One on one, two on one, two on two, giant orgies of men, fucking and sucking, licking and kissing, grunting and thrusting. Having sex the way only big rough men can have sex, vigorous, competitive, sexy as hell.
Rip knew he was dreaming, that in fact he was experiencing a seemingly endless series of dreams. They were hyper-realistic and yet it never felt as if time were passing and transitions from one setting – the high seas, a forest glade, a mountain top – were instantaneous.
Through it all, he was the observer, not a participant.
Through it all, one figure loomed above all the rest, a blond giant with a winged-helmet, shoulders vast beyond imagining, his face perpetually in shadow and yet somehow so familiar.
What’s it all about?
In his dream consciousness he wondered but had no answer.
He wanted it never to end.
To be continued