Caveman's Journey
Disclaimer: The following science fiction/fantasy story contains erotic situations between men. If it is illegal for you to read this, then please don't. Also, the story focuses on cavemen who I'm sure are way hotter and more advanced than actual cavemen would have been, but that that's why it's in the science fiction/fantasy section. Also, I'm open to feed back, ideas and criticism so if you've got it send it. Now enjoy.
Chapter 1
Our story takes place in a young world, early in the morning of time. A hard, unfriendly world. Inhabited by creatures that sit and wait, creatures that must kill to live, and man, superior to the creatures only in his cunning. There are not many men yet, just a few tribes scattered across the wilderness. Never venturing far, unaware that other tribes exist even. Too busy with their own lives to be curious, too frightened of the unknown to wander. Their laws are simple, the strong take everything.
In the barren desert lives the Rock Tribe, lead by Akhoba. He is a ruthless man who ruled with brute strength in his prime. On this night however, he passes his role as tribe leader down to his first born, Santana, much to the dismay of his younger son, Kane. Don't begin to think that he's pleased with giving up the position. While getting on in his age he has become sloppy and slow. The last four hunts lead by him have ended with the tribe returning to their cave on the mountain side empty handed. One more failed excursion and the tribe would surely eat him. It is only a matter of moments before the sun drops out of the sky and the cold night envelopes the outside world, but as far as he's concerned, his reign isn't over yet. Akhoba sits on his thrown-like rock on the platform along the back wall of the cave, looking down at the thirty or so cavemen and cavewomen in his tribe. All he can do now is soak in these last few moments before he steps down from his thrown and becomes just another one of them.
Standing near the cave entrance, Santana watches with a mischievous grin on his face as the sun begins to set behind the horizon. When it completely disappears he will claim his fathers thrown. This is the moment he has been waiting for since he was in his early teens. There aren't any real benefits to being the chief of the tribe other than leading the boar and mountain goat hunts and getting your fill of the meat first, but it meant power. Having the rest of the tribe at your command, unless you aren't taking care of them. That is what Santana has been seeking for the last 13 of his 26 years. It was all about the power. The combination of climbing through the mountains, swimming in the desert oasis, hunting, and wrestling with the other men throughout the years has built Santana quite a powerful body. His strong, sturdy legs, ripped abs, firm chest, and chiseled arms are displayed perfectly in his dark brown boar skin loincloth, and they got him a lot of attention from the women. And even though he did get with a few of them every now and then, it was just for kicks. It was the men that really got his blood pumping. He got more turned on by the thought of wrestling a man than he did thinking about being with a woman.
Although Santana has had plenty of fantasies about the men in his tribe, he has never acted on any of them. Not since he was 13. Back then, there had been another boy in the tribe, Jecori. Santana and Jecori were about the same age and began to become close friends when they started to go through puberty around the same time. The two of them would swim together, play together, eat together, everything they did, they did together. Santana was closer to Jecori than he was his own brother. While playing in the mountains one day, they found a decent sized alcove. It was like their own personal cave. They played there everyday for three weeks, just the two of them. One morning, Santana woke up and Jecori wasn't in the tribes' cave. He waited for a few minutes to see if he would show, and he never did. Then Santana realized, he was probably in their alcove. He ventured into the mountains and as he approached the entrance to the small cavern, he heard heavy breathing and moaning. Santana stepped in and gasped when he found Jecori, sitting on the ground with his loincloth around his ankles and his hand feverishly jerking away at his cock. When Jecori heard the gasp he quickly stopped what he was doing and began to cover himself up with his hands, but then he saw that it was only Santana. Jecori began to slowly stroke his pole again and motioned for Santana to come closer. Santana was hesitant at first, but the sight of Jecori jacking off got his own dick stirring. Santana slid his loincloth down to his ankles and stepped out of it before sitting beside Jecori and joining him in beating off. They sat there like that for a few minutes, just stroking themselves and moaning. Then, something encouraged Santana to move his hand on to Jecori's cock. Santana wasn't sure how Jecori would react, but when he did it, Jecori didn't protest. Instead, he wrapped his hand around Santana's own rod. They looked into each others eyes deeply as they jerked one another off, and once again, something inside of Santana was urging him to go for more. He leaned closer to Jecori and kissed him. Again, Jecori didn't argue. This was all so new, and somehow Santana knew they would get in trouble if anyone knew, but it felt too good to stop. They were lost in a passionate kiss, exploring each others mouths with their tongues and rapidly jerking the others dick. Santana could feel something building inside of his balls. He was almost at climax. The hot, gooey cum was making its way up his shaft an his cock was about to explode. Santana pulled away from the kiss and moaned loudly as the jizz shot out of his cock like ropes of cum that went all over his belly and Jecori's hand. Santana had never felt so good in his life. It was such a euphoric feeling that he had ever experienced before. He sat there for a moment, relishing the bliss, and then out of the corner of his eye he saw him. His eyes went wide but before he could react a big foot stomped into Santana's gut, and all of the air left his lungs. Akhoba. His father continued to beat on him for another minute, before turning to Jecori. He grabbed him by the hair and pulled him to the entrance of the cave and pushed him to the ground. Akhoba kicked him in the ribs twice and began yelling at him, pointing to the desert. He watched as Jecori got up and ran like he was told to. Ran into nothing but the emptiness of the desert. Akhoba watched until all he could see were the clouds of dirt Jecori was kicking up as he ran. When he was out of sight Akhoba returned to the grotto and continued his assault on Santana, kicking and stomping him into the ground as he curled into a ball. After that day Santana never saw Jecori again. And he's spent every moment of the last 13 years trying to become as big and as strong as he can be. His first act as tribe leader would be to beat his father like he had been beaten on that day, and exile him like he exiled Jecori.
The sun is just about gone now as Kane sits in a shadowy corner of the large cave. This is bullshit as far as he's concerned. Why should Santana be the heir to the thrown just because he's two years older? Sure, Santana's slightly bigger and stronger than he is, but what does that prove? All Kane has wanted since he was a child is the leadership of the tribe. He doesn't have a revenge story like Santana, he's just driven by greed. His mother had died giving birth to him. It wasn't uncommon. Most women died with their first child. From that day on, if anything were to happen to Akhoba, Santana would become chief. And for as long as he could remember, Kane had wished for some kind of accident to claim both of their lives. But, no such luck. His father stayed in control, up until now at least, thanks to the inevitable. And Santana's muscles grew bigger and stronger than Kane could ever get his to. He was probably stronger now than their father had ever been. Kane thought he had gotten lucky that day he followed Santana and Tumak to that secret cave of theirs and saw them together. He quickly ran back to his father and led him to the alcove before returning to the tribe and waiting for Akhoba to arrive with Santana's limp body, but again, no such luck. The old fool thought he cured Santana and simply banished Jecori. It was pretty obvious now to Kane that wishful thinking wasn't going to win him the thrown. If he wanted that to happen he was just going to have to take matters into his own hands. His brother's life for the leadership of the tribe sounded good enough to him.
Now, the sun is set. Santana turns around as a couple of men from the tribe light a fire in the center of the cave for the ceremony. He looks to his father on the other side of the cave. Akhoba is now standing. The two of them stare at each other ominously. Akhoba hops down from his platform, almost losing his balance as he lands. He truly has gotten too old for the job. Santana begins to approach him. He walks to the back of the cave with a confident stride, never breaking eye contact with his father. He keeps walking until he's mere inches away from Akhoba. Still leering into his father's eyes, Santana holds out his hand. Akhoba takes off his boar skin shawl and hands it to him. The shawl represents that you're the one with the power. The only one good enough to have something to shed you from the cold of the long nights. Santana wraps it around his shoulders, still not loosing eye contact. Akhoba starts to get a little nervous now. Why isn't Santana just taking the thrown? Instead he's staring him down. Then, out of nowhere Santana knocks his father to the ground. Akhoba's eyes go wide, but before he can react, Santana's foot stomps into his gut and all of the air leaves his lungs. Silently, Kane walks over to the fire, carefully picking up one of blazing sticks. Santana stays on the attack, kicking and stomping Akhoba into the ground as he curls into a ball. It's almost too late when he notices his brother, Kane, swinging the flaming branch out of the corner of his eye. Santana ducks just in time to avoid a blow to the head. Kane swings at his brother again, but this time Santana catches him by the wrist and throws him to the ground. Kane drops the stick and Santana quickly clambers on top of him. Kane reaches for the fiery wood, but its out of his reach. Santana wraps his hands around his little brother's throat and squeezes. He should have expected something like this from him. Kane tries to push Santana off of him, tries to pull his hands away from his neck, but he's too strong. Kane's lungs start to hurt, his face gets hot and his vision becomes blurry. It's over now. At least he tried. He would rather be dead than live with Santana calling the shots. That's all he can think as everything starts to go dark.
Kane's only out for a moment before the life springs back into him. Santana's lying on top of him. He pushes his brother aside and looks up to see Akhoba standing above him with a large rock in his hands. Kane looks to other people in the tribe. They're all huddled against the side wall, scared and shocked by the events that have unfolded. Kane stands up and rubs his soar neck as he looks down at Santana's limp body. Akhoba tosses the rock aside and grabs Santana by the arms; Kane moves over to his bottom half and grabs him by his legs. The two of them lift him off the ground and carry him to the cave entrance. They drop him on the ground when they get outside. Kane kneels beside his brother and pilfers the shawl off of him and wraps it around his own shoulders, before spitting in Santana's face. With that, he nudges Santana's body with his foot and it begins to roll down the steep base of the mountain as Kane and Akhoba watch, pleased with themselves. They won't have to worry about him anymore.
Santana wakes just as the sun is starting to come up. At first he can't remember what happened to him last night. He doesn't know why he's sprawled out at the base of the mountain, covered with blisters and scratches and his head hurting like hell, but after a minute it all comes back to him. For a moment, he contemplates returning to the cave, then he realizes that if he just walks in there in the state that he's in they will just finish him off. And they will do the same if they come out here and find that he's still alive. But where could he go? The alcove? That would have to do for now. Santana starts to make his way there, and as he does he begins to think about Jecori. What ever happened to him? Where did he go when he disappeared into the desert that day? Curiosity was starting to get the best of Santana. He stops dead in his tracks and turns to look out into the empty desert. Somewhere out there, there has to be something. He will surely die if he stays around here, and he will probably die if he goes exploring out there. But something inside of Santana is urging him, telling him that there was more out there. Santana's mind is made up. He begins to walk. He isn't sure which direction he should walk in since it all looks empty as far as he can see, so he just starts walking in a straight line from the mountain cave. Walking for a couple of minutes turns into walking for a few minutes. Walking for a few minutes turns into walking for a couple of hours. And walking for a couple of hours turns into walking for a few hours. Santana had walked all day and now its night. Incredible considering what he went through last night. An ordinary person would be dead, but Santana wasn't an ordinary person. He has spent the last half of his life getting into the best physical shape that he can possibly be in, and he is being driven by something inside of him. So he continues to walk. Never stopping, never taking a break. He walks all night, and now the sun is up again. A whole day of walking. Finally, something is in the distance. Filling with hope, Santana begins to walk faster. The image becomes bigger as he approaches it, but he still can't tell what it is. He starts walking even faster, jogging now. Green, lots of green. It's still really far away but he can see it now. A jungle. A big, green, lavish jungle. It's a big change of scenery from the mountains that he lives in, and he isn't completely sure what he will find but at least it was something besides the empty desert. Santana can't wait to get there. Will there be water? Will there be food? He can't take it anymore. His body is completely tired and he hasn't had anything to drink in over a day. Santana breaks into a full sprint. He has to see what he can find. He's almost there when his body gives out. He collapses to the ground. It's all Santana can do to lift his head up. When he does he sees a man, standing in the jungle fifty feet away. He's younger than Santana, but still a man. He looks completely different than anybody Santana's ever seen before, and he's walking towards him. Santana's head drops forward. He's too tired. After a moment he feels the gentle touch of the younger mans hand on his shoulder and he's being rolled over on to his back. Santana gets a good look at him now. His hair is shorter than Santana's, and it's the color of the sand. His eyes are blue like the sky above them. He looks nothing like the people from the Rock Tribe. The younger man gently puts his right hand on Santana's cheek. Why is he being so gentle and caring? An angel. That's what he is, an angel. Santana admires the good looks of the younger man for another moment but then his eyelids get too heavy to hold open, and the world starts to fade away.