Just as the shaman's muscular, tattooed pectorals came into focus, I felt the melange of jungle hallucinogens combined with the formidable psychic powers of the shaman dragging me back into a world of visions.
I suddenly found myself inside Dr. Chamberlain, but not in the expected way, and neither was it pleasant. It was as though I were a passive visitor in his mind, seeing the world from his point of view. His former point of view I noted, realizing that this version of Dr. Chamberlain had far superior muscle tone to the version with which I was most familiar. He was kneeling before the splendor of Hun-Gamin, gazing hungrily up at the sparse blond pubes that decorated the base of Hun-Gamin's massive phallus, which pointed directly at Dr. Chamberlain's gaping mouth. With a start I realized that his conception of Hun-Gamin bore a rather strong physical resemblance to myself, except with an even larger phallus. And then I remembered that Hun-Gamin appears to mortals in the guise of the sexiest male they've ever encountered, and I wondered if Dr. Chamberlain had suffered some past heartbreak at the hands of someone very like me. His thoughts were not concerned with heartbreak at the moment. Rather, he was mostly thinking of having passionate sex with Hun-Gamin, but underneath it were other notions. He was pondering the documentary with accompanying book tour, he was wondering just how many groupies he'd be fondling a year from now, he was gleefully imagining the reactions of all his past lovers to his newfound fame. He had clearly decided that the sheer commercial potential behind his discovery of a closely guarded male sex cult that had existed peacefully in the rainforest since antiquity merited his emergence from the closet. Further, he was thinking of hiring Hun-Gamin lookalikes to recreate the sensation of this initiation for well heeled tourists, a thought that caused my nostrils to flare. How dare he profane this sacredness in the name of his sleazy materialistic desires?
Hun-Gamin's expression echoed my sentiments. He stared scornfully down at Dr. Chamberlain, and the massive phallus slowly went down, shrinking until it was the size of a jalapeno pepper. At that moment I felt a raw blast of frustration from Dr. Chamberlain, and that outburst of emotion seemed to attract something shadowy that lurked at the foot of the mountain. I stepped back in a panic, unnerved by this thing, and lost my footing. I found myself plummeting over the side, too terrified to scream.
And then I was back in the temple, and the first bloom of dawn was creeping through the cracks in the stone. All around me were naked, sweaty men. Some had collapsed in exhaustion, others were locked in various kinds of embrace. A lone drummer kept a steady beat. Warm hands found my shoulders, and I felt the shaman's presence behind me.
I jumped to my feet, filled with sudden horror. "How long have I been dreaming?"
The shaman rolled his eyes.
"Only since last night," Dwin-Ge giggled, collapsing against my shoulder. "Lightweight."
"No." The shaman said in a very raspy voice. "Not a lightweight. He has passed the test."
Dwin-Ge squealed and kissed me enthusiastically before running off to gossip, and I rubbed my eyes, facing the shaman. "I did?"
"You did not sell out to your base desires," the shaman whispered.
"Soon it will be too late!" Vague visions of Club Het intruded on my thoughts. "We have to get into town and disrupt that meeting!"
The shaman clapped his hands three times. Everyone still capable of standing crowded over, forming a ring of firm male flesh around us. "The initiate has earned the favor of Hun-Gamin. Now, he says we must go to town."
"As quickly as possible," I added.
"Aah!" Muscles grunted, stepping forward. "Shall we use the - "
The shaman nodded.
Muscles grinned and whispered to a few of the men, and they headed off toward the back of the temple. Moments later they came back with a Gucci duffel bag, straining under its weight, their thighs tense and the ridged muscles of their abdomens standing out in relief. They dumped it in front of the shaman and Muscles opened it, revealing a series of clear plastic bags containing a white, powdery substance. Muscles tossed several of these into the crowd.
Moments later, all the men were wide awake and ready to march.
We were a splendid sight, striding through the rainforest in a long column, clad only in loincloths. I, of course, was still painted various colors from my previous adventure. I also was now wearing the skin of a jaguar wrapped around my hips. Oh dear. Those are endangered.
"That one was actually killed by the former owner of the duffel bag," the shaman hissed beside me. "He accompanies it now, in the afterlife."
"Well, that makes me feel worlds better." I accepted a sip of water from a gourd the shaman extended. "Look, we're going into town to try to stop Dr. Chamberlain. He's sold out the temple to a huge corporation that's going to turn it into a living hell."
"Roger." The shaman spat. "That is only his former name. For some time he has been possessed by an evil spirit. It has been lazy and corrupt until recently, preferring to lie around masturbating in the shade. Now it is determined to destroy us all."
"Do people frequently become possessed by evil spirits around here?" I inquired nervously.
"He failed the test," the shaman rasped. "The one you have just passed. On his way down from the mountain he was overtaken by a creature that calls itself Haqt. Without the protection of Hun-Gamin, he lost the battle, and now Haqt feeds on his soul."
"It sounds unpleasant." I shuddered despite the heat of the jungle. Muscles, marching by my side, offered me the clear plastic bag again. When I declined he shrugged and buried his face in it.
We marched for a long time, but our pace was excellent, and soon we emerged on the white sandy beach just south of Club Het. As we entered from beachside, I saw that the oceanward façade was built to resemble an Aztec pyramid. This particular one was based on a shrine to Huitzilopochtli, the god of death. Some of my tribesmen also noticed the resemblance and began muttering amongst themselves. Then, in the bushes to my right, I noticed a sudden blur of motion. A hummingbird. I stopped to study it, fascinated.
"Also an emblem of Huitzilopochtli," the shaman rasped.
"Thanks." I straighted up and continued toward the beach, passing a sign warning against trespassing that was decorated with skulls and crossbones, and a lifeguard wearing a Grateful Dead t-shirt. I'll admit I was becoming a bit bored with the portents of doom, and was glad when we reached the first layer of plastic beach chairs.
Suddenly, a line of bullets ripped through the sand several feet in front of mine. I froze in my tracks, and the Hun-Gamin behind me did likewise, with the exception of Muscles, who wasn't paying attention. He was caught in the second line of bullets.
I looked upward at the pyramid and noted several Club Het employees dressed in their characteristic crisp uniforms had appeared from various concealed openings armed with automatic rifles.
"No tresspassing!" An amplified voice warned, in four different languages.
"Turn back," I shouted, and the Hun-Gamin immediately obeyed me, filling me with a temporal rush of power. Together with the shaman, I grabbed Muscles, who was still alive but not by much, and dragged him along to safety.
Which turned out to be the bar. By this time several of us were carrying Muscles as the Shaman followed behind, chanting. We laid him on the pool table, and the Shaman grabbed me by the biceps and looked me in the eye. "I have to stay, to help him. Do you think you can fight a demon?"
I straightened my spine, my eyes filling with tears at the sight of Muscles' agony. "I shall endeavor to do so."
He leaned forward and kissed me passionately, exploring the inside of my mouth with his pierced tongue, and I felt something invisible transfer between us. Then he tore himself away and put his hands on Muscles' shoulders, resuming his chanting. I was about to call for a doctor when I noticed a faint green light seeping from the Shaman's hands and entering Muscles' flesh.
Right. This was no time for logic.
"Ey, what kinda bar do you think this is?" I felt a rough hand on my shoulder and I groaned inwardly. I had a demon to fight, and I certainly didn't have time to waste with an unwashed biker. A familiar biker, however, I realized as I turned around.
"Did you hit Wal Mart?" It was obvious that he had, as he was wearing brand new hiking boots with large logos on the toes, and a Pokemon t-shirt with the sleeves recently ripped off to reveal his well toned arms. He recognized me and broke into a grin.
"Amigo! You and your friends are welcome here."
"Have you still got the plastic?" I held out my hand and he produced the battered credit card from the pocket of his sweaty leather vest. "Good fellow. Would you see that nobody bothers my friends until I come back?"
He nodded affirmatively and I gestured at the Hun-Gamin, who were making quite a crowd in this little bar. "Follow me, men!"
We marched on Wal Mart, where we bought the entire stock of pleated khaki trousers and golf shirts. Some of the Hun-Gamin looked rather odd, with their facial jewelry and tattoos and dreadlocks, and Dwin-Ge had a seizure when forced into this apparel. We got him into a pair of hand woven pink and purple trousers I purchased from a woman selling them outside the Wal Mart, and I felt a pang of envy. With a heavy sigh I pulled out the backpack full of cheap cell phones I'd charged to Dr. Chamberlain and handed them around, then showed the men how to flip them open and mutter intently.
In this fashion we marched on Club Het, where I told them we were a software design company having a convention (and mentioned that our IPO was taking place next week, with a big wink). The clerk looked solemnly at my army of khaki clad warriors chattering into their phones and then gave us a conference room with a fax machine and a DSL port, and threw in all the coffee we could drink.
The conference room was near the top of the pyramid, on the seventeenth floor. This floor contained four conference rooms. There was an eighteenth floor. Using some of the methods the Shaman had taught me, I quickly discerned that it contained one conference room, and right now that conference room was full of men. And one man possessed by a demon. They were right on top of us. For now.
"Wait here," I told them as I slipped into the elevator after the Club Het personnel had left us with a coffee urn and several sparkling water pitchers. I ascended to eighteen and found it did indeed contain one conference room, and an elevator lobby decorated with fearsome Aztec murals. A lone woman sat in this lobby, speaking in hushed tones on a small pink cell phone. She jumped as the elevator bell rang, turning around. I recognized her immediately by the scar on her shoulder. Mrs. Dahl.
She clicked the phone closed and stared at me appraisingly. I did my best to radiate shamanic calm. "They say that three days to the south of here there is a temple sacred to the goddess. No men are allowed there."
"The Lost Temple of She Who Must Not Be Objectified!" Mrs. Dahl stood up, surprised. "You know where it is?"
"I have connections," I informed her.
She flipped open the cellphone and hit star sixty-nine. "Juana? It's me. I've got the cash in my makeup bag, and I've just found our escape."
"Go to the cantina in town," I directed. "There you will find a man who is about seven feet tall, very muscular, covered with tattoos and piercings. Tell him Smythe sent you, and that you and Juana need an escort to the other temple."
She pressed several things into my hand. "Card key to the conference room, card key to my husband's room, AmEx, Visa, Discover and Diner's Club. I've got the toll free emergency cancellation numbers in my Palm Pilot, so you've got about seventy-two hours before he figures it out."
"Madam, do I understand correctly in assuming that you are undermining the Cargospresso plant project?"
"Damn straight." She smiled at me. "I've got all the funding right here."
"Bless you." I looked into her eyes, very sincerely, and hoped that the blessing of a priest of Hun-Gamin might possibly provide something in which she were interested.
"Juana are going to go somewhere and get a little house, where we can have cats. Maybe in the rainforest." Her eyes grew misty for a moment, then she snapped out of it. "Later. Gotta run."
"I'll share your elevator," I said, pushing the button.
The men had found a convenient display case full of bolas and obsidian encrusted war clubs and blowguns. They had stripped back down to their loincloths during my brief absence. After a moment I considered that they looked much better in loincloths than they did in Wal Mart khakis. However, I did raise an objection to the weapons. These suits had been effectively disarmed. All they had left were their laptops.
It took several elevator trips to transport everybody to the top floor, and once we were all assembled, I gently slid the card key into the receptacle. The door opened.
Dr. Chamberlain, or rather, the demon Haqt, was sitting at the head of the table. He was smiling photogenically, wearing an Armani khaki shirt. I was very glad we hadn't worn our Wal Mart. Ken Dahl was next to him, gazing at him rapturously. Around the table sat several other suits, looking quite pleased at the distraction. All of them male, affluent, with gym toned bodies and bored expressions. Behind them, plate glass windows revealed we were indeed at the top of the pyramid.
This would be simple.
"Put down the weapons," I hissed to the Hun-Gamin in their language. Instead they brandished them in a threatening fashion. I shook my head and took a deep breath, willing the presence of Hun-Gamin.
"Dude! 'Ssup?" He spoke from just behind my shoulder. "Whoa. Let's have some fun with the suits."
"First I need you to help me with that demon." I pointed. Now that Hun-Gamin was with me, Dr. Chamberlain looked altogether different. His eyebrows were pointier and more evil, and his carefully manicured nails looked more like talons.
"Takes a lot of energy to drop a demon." He cleared his throat. "Stand back."
Of a sudden I felt warm. Perspiration gathered on my bare torso, where previously my nipples had been standing hard due to the air conditioning. I also began to feel quite aroused, though of the variety where you're too lazy to do anything about the fact. I noticed that the men standing immediately around me were also becoming aroused. This was difficult to conceal in a loincloth. And the nearest of the suits were also perspiring, and shifting in their seats.
As further waves of lust emanated from me, the suit sitting nearest me suddenly ripped the buttons from his shirt in his haste to remove it, revealing a thin cotton undershirt. The suit next to him was wriggling out of his loafers, just before sliding out of his trousers and disclosing a particularly loud pair of Joe Boxers.
The Hun-Gamin knew what to do.
At first they did it with each other, with hands, and tongues, and lips. At first the suits, in various states of undress, merely watched, some idly stroking themselves. Dahl's eyes were tightly shut. The demon Haqt was scowling.
Then the first suit offered himself up to the savages. He was young, with short dark hair and flawless skin, resembling a movie actor I'd once had a crush on. He approached a Hun-Gamin with nipple length dreadlocks and a sleek muscular build. The suit gazed happily at this apparition, dropping to his knees and looking up to ask permission.
My tribesman gathered his rigid flesh into his right hand and thrust it out proudly. With his left hand he caressed the young suit's smooth cheek. The suit opened his mouth and enveloped the glistening head, and then, much of the shaft.
The next suit was a little bolder. He had red hair, and gingery freckles all over his torso, and an angry thatch of pubic density from which grew a pale white stalk. He offered this to the Hun-Gamin, and one stepped forward to grab it.
Before long the conference room was a veritable sea of carnal delights. Seconds after I had entered all of the suits had disrobed (except one, who was clad only in a tie, and another one who was tied up with his own suspenders, and Dahl, whose eyes were still shut tight).
"Clever," Dr. Chamberlain growled. He gestured at one of the plate glass windows and it broke, quite theatrically, the pieces of glass flying outwards. Moving more like a deformed macaque than like a man, he slipped through it, climbing to the stone pyramid steps outside.
Being young, and athletic, and foolish, I gave chase.
He climbed to the very top of the pyramid, and there we stood, upon a crude approximation of Hun-Gamin's mountain. Except this time we were at a sleazy postcolonial resort, and instead of facing a handsome youthful pizza delivery guy I was instead standing across from something out of a low budget horror movie.
It snarled, revealing impractically big fangs. And it sprang at me, but I dodged to the side, and it stopped short to keep from continuing off the side of the pyramid. We circled warily. I was dimly aware of Hun-Gamin's lust rays still pouring through my flesh, and I could hear the cries and moans below me. I longed to be there.
But instead I was at an impasse. Chamberlain was moving tirelessly, a feint to the left, a steady progression to the right. He was larger, and had those fangs. He could hurt me, if he got close enough. Eventually I would become careless, I would miss one of his moves, and - there it was. He pounced, tackling me and landing on my chest. He pressed himself against me, enjoying the fact that I was engorged.
"No," I whispered.
"Raping you is one thing." Haqt's breath was noxious, and he was exhaling directly in my face. "What I'm really trying to do here is like rape on a different level. If you share Hun-Gamin's power, I can obtain it through you, even if I can't acquire it directly. The Shaman was foolish enough to help you survive the ordeal, then he threw you directly into my arms."
My own arms suddenly flexed. They had become marked with varying tattoos, and sheathed in round muscle. They were the Shaman's arms, and with them I easily pushed Haqt off my chest. He nearly fell over the edge but caught himself with his talons.
"I believe it is time for a respite," the Shaman said, and I suddenly found myself alone with him, on a wide tree branch some distance from the ground. "I'm much more effective in a fight if I don't have to worry about my body."
"I've always found your body tremendously effective," I said reverently. He smiled and stroked my cheek. Then his large fingers were running through my hair. I wanted him intensely.
For a moment I wondered if I wanted him because he wanted me, and he had magical powers that would make me want him. Then I discarded all of this as being too confusing and simply responded, because I wanted him very much. I put my palms on his cheeks and kissed him reverently. He pulled me against him, arranging me on his lap. I writhed against him, feeling a deep comfort as I pressed against his chest. I spread my legs open and felt the familiar intrusion as he searched for the right alignment. Since this was a consensual two person sex fantasy, of course, I was magically well lubricated and relaxed, and my clothes had disappeared, and I was ready for him.
I sank down, engulfing him to the hilt, and I sighed, feeling very safe as he filled me. He thrust his hips up, very slowly, and the visions began to take me, but this time the Shaman held completely still. I waited, frozen in the moment, until it became intensely frustrating, and I tried to move against him, but my body didn't seem to respond.
"Calm. Breathe evenly," he said softly. "Concentrate all your life force in your lower spine."
I struggled to maintain my focus, doing what he directed, until it seemed my entire pelvic region was on fire. I had never been this aroused in my life. The Shaman chuckled, his voice resonating in my ears. His fingers closed around my stiff prick, his pinky sliding delicately through a bubble of precum. I gasped, having forgotten to breathe.
"Now." The Shaman kissed my forehead gently. "If I take you to this place, you will have the strength to defeat Haqt, and a thousand like him. Petty demons, that feed on abuse of power, and manipulation. But there is always the chance that you might become one of them, and I might have to destroy you myself, which would grieve me, for I have come to love you. With the power goes responsibility. Misuse it and you will long for a quick death."
I hesitated for the briefest of moments before kissing him back, passionately. I felt myself start to erupt just as he began to throb within me. I opened my eyes and gazed into his, and I felt something transfer between us as I erupted over his hard belly, coating him in my juices, as his own pumped into me.
And then I was back on top of the pyramid, shaking my head, dazed, willing the power to do SOMETHING to prevent my untimely demise. Just as the demon pounced toward me I recovered my senses, and rolled to the side, then jumped to my feet. Suddenly behind me I noticed the unmistakeable sound of rotor blades. The demon missed me and nearly went over the side, catching itself at the last possible instant. Something landed on my shoulder. A rope ladder.
I seized it and felt myself hoisted into the air. It was a small helicopter, with only two seats. The pilot was wearing sunglasses. He'd also apparently gotten his Ricky Martin phase out of his system, as passionate classical guitar music was pounding through a set of subwoofers that were nearly as loud as the rotor blades.
The demon snarled below me, leaping for my ankle. Its claws sank in deep and I winced. Then I remembered the Shaman's teaching, and I summoned up all the life force in my body, concentrating it in my left ankle. And it seemed there was much more life force this time. The demon Haqt shrieked pitifully and loosened its grasp. I kicked it and dislodged it, watching as it plummeted into a swimming pool built to resemble precolumbian ruins that had been closed for maintenance, its broken body lying across a cement Olmec head.
Then I made my way up into the helicopter. Below me, the Hun-Gamin were surging out of the lobby, cheering, followed by several suits and Club Het personnel who could be identified by their corporate haircuts and the last remnants of their uniforms.
"Joao, I didn't know you had a helicopter."
"One of my toys, from the old days."
"How did you know I'd need you?"
He peered at me over his sunglasses. "I dreamed it, last night. You are in most of my dreams."
He returned his attention to the helicopter, heading it back toward town and landing it outside the cantina, scaring a goat that had been grazing out front.
The Shaman came out to meet us, followed by Muscles, who was only limping slightly. I fell into his arms. "I'm home," I said weakly.
"You are home." The Shaman stroked my hair.
I shivered. "I'm afraid of it. Part of me wants to run off to a small town and hide, occasionally popping out at happy hour to impress the locals and bed the more attractive youths."
The Shaman stroked my cheek. "The rest of your life will be complicated. You can't escape that fact. Try to hide, it will find you."
"I'm in love with you," I admitted. "But you would never be happy in my world."
He nodded thoughtfully. "We come from different realities. Stay here with me for a time and we can build one that will suit us both"
Somebody handed me a drink with an umbrella and a pineapple slice in it. The rest of the tribe, along with their new acolytes, had arrived. Dwin-Ge had taken over the karaoke machine. Joao passed me a joint. The Shaman rubbed my shoulders affectionately.
Fuck college. I was home.