Please see original story (www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/historical/the-heathens/) for warnings and copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights reserved. Includes sex between young-adult and adult men. Go away if any of that is against your local rules. Practice safer sex than my characters. Write if you like, but flamers end up in the nasty bits of future stories. Donate to Nifty TODAY at donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep the cum coming.
This second round took far longer as Harcos teased and nibbled my dick and played a variety of tunes on my love button. I was still aware as I reached the second crescendo, and knew exactly what would please my Aldus most. As my balls pulled up, I took in a huge breath. "Ow, ow, owOO!" a very happy puppy-wolf howled into the night over and over. I felt Harcos laugh around my spurting seed. "OW, OW, OWOOOOOOOO!"
The Heathens 17: And the Word was God
By Bear Pup
I was literally bouncing with energy the next morning as I drained Harcos of his piss and his seed. I'd found that his taint and tiny little strokes across his ass drove him wild and his fingers began to probe my still-slick asshole before he finally erupted. Harcos was laughing and slapping at me as I almost forced him into his travelling kit and donned my own before running to the bushes to relieve myself.
The Ox, my Volot, was up when I returned, trying to make the fire work again. He was quite obviously the worse for wear, the opposite of my own reaction to the evening before. Apparently, his own rehabilitation sex had lasted far longer, or at least taken a lot out of him. I shooed him off and got the fire stoked and the water to boil as the Pyrkagia emerged with a palmful of small nuts or large seeds I'd never seen the like of. He distributed them amongst the bowls, two by two as we waited for the water.
Stelio had apparently left long before dawn; he suddenly emerged into the clearing with a small deer carcass over his shoulders. It had been field-dressed and he proceeded to hang it from a staff on his cart to drain. He and Pyrkagia shared a touch and a smile before the 'young' man handed the warrior a cup of steeped tea which Stelio drank greedily and sighed.
Pameten and Harcos were already at work dismantling the camp, including Stelio's in recognition of the work the young warrior had expended in the hunt that would make our uncertain, southward route more secure. Whatever magic Pyrkagia's nuts held was revealed as we felt a sense of calm excitement and boundless energy descend upon us all. The diminutive sorcerer had also worked with Volot to fill every waterskin and container at the nearby spring, as there was no way to know how far apart watercourses might be.
We headed south across some trails that looked more appropriate for goats than carts, but the hard-packed earth of the valley floor made for smoother than expected travel. What we did not have and sorely missed was shade. The air was hot and still and filled to overflowing with mosquitoes, midges and biting flies. Pyrkagia did not ride covered on the cart this day. Instead, he walked ahead of us with a tiny censer that put out a nearly-clear smoke with an odd, lemony scent. The effect was instantaneous. The insects fled as if by magic, only the occasional and irrepressible horsefly needed a swat.
As midday approached, Harcos set the cart-tent as an awning of sorts to provide shade for our meal of venison steak. It was another long march, perhaps three hours, when we saw the first of the two ridges we needed to penetrate rise before us. As expected, the strong river we walked along had cut a path through it, but all the warriors stared with slitted eyes at the narrow path. Volot and I shared a look as the warriors turned and we retraced our steps to a small stream we'd crossed about two stadia back where we pitched camp.
Pameten and Stelio set about skinning and butchering the deer while Pyrkagia and Volot built a large, roaring fire for coals. My master and I deployed all three tents. The light an airy mood imparted by the mystic beans had fled hours before, but at least Pyrkagia's magical censer kept the bugs at bay. I reached down to grab the stakes and bells and Harcos coughed. I looked up and he was busily pretending to tie a knot. He hand-signed to me. They Watch. Walk as Normal. Do Not Look. I took 'walk as normal' to mean work just as we always would; the hand signals had been for when we approached a populated settlement and the dangers therein.
When done, I moved to help with the fire and Pyrkagia darted off, apparently to find sweet herbs or green wood for smoke. Volot was tense, obviously warned by one of the others, trying desperately not to look every direction at once.
It was perhaps an hour until dusk when the Stelio began bringing us meat in long, thin slabs. He and Pyrkagia shared a long look and Stelio returned to their cart and returned with a set of poles. The Ox and I just stared as he tied the slabs to the poles. Surely that dry word would turn to cinders in no time. Pyrkagia was busy setting up several sticks that looked almost exactly like the crutches Harcos had cut for Strasta.
I felt a huge pang as I realised it had been perhaps a week since I thought of the young man who had negotiated my salvation.
STRASTA
I watched the damned little imp walk away with the man I'd loved more than any father, the man I readily offered my life for in battle. The man-child could not wrench his eyes away from Harcos, nor could I blame him. I watched until they were out of sight and my tears had dried.
Was I angry? More than I could possibly imagine, and disappointed and horrified at my fate. But none of those were aimed at the spirit of my master. That he would leave me here was an inevitable as the sunrise or the return of Our Lord Jesus Christ to lead us all to a thousand years of peace. My leg would heal, certainly. I was a healer and knew this to be true. But I also knew that the fucking little Utik filth had severed a half-dozen ligaments in his long slash. I would heal, but never again could I march at a warrior's pace, nor defend my master's back in battle.
The little pissant had backbone, that was certain. And he obviously had a lifetime of love to give my master for none of it had found a place in this wretched hovel. I turned to find the family, to my consternation, still arguing. Several had been banished to chores, but the parents and the eldest children bickered like badgers. Such disunion and chaos would be a problem... or an opportunity.
They silenced like a knife dropped as I hobbled through the doorway. I sighed. I was already their enemy, but that really was not that strange a position to find myself in. The difference here was, for the first time, I had no Harcos. I had not his strength of body, of will, of spirit. One thing I had learned from him, though, was the power of faking it.
I turned to the eldest son who simply glared. "You are Inkar? He took a moment, as my speech was obviously broken. "Will you walk with me?" He nodded and moved to me, a flurry of hissing whispers erupting in his wake. Ayib had chosen an apt metaphor, nest of vipers indeed.
"You are Inkar to the Heathens. I am Strasta. Within the Brotherhood of Christ, I am Matthaios. Will you honour me with your true name?" He considered.
"I am Aleti in the fold, my brother Mathhaios. I am the rock upon which I pray God may choose to build." What a pompous ass. He was smaller than I, but broad of shoulder. His hands and feet were smallish, and his legs lithe and limber. Not one for the hard work, this Aleti.
"I sense your leadership, Aleti." Actually, I sensed his obstinacy and desire for tyranny. He puffed nonetheless. "Tell me of the family that I may yet choose to join." He was shrewd this one, and I chose my words carefully.
"Mother is the pillar of faith, but prone to anger. Father is a foundation upon which the family is built but loses his mastery. I do what I can as a humble and unworthy servant of the One True God. Ismet will do well for--"
"We will not speak of Ismet or what any think will be good for me, my brother." He bridled at my tone of warning. "Why does Father not take additional wives and co-husbands?"
He openly sneered now, "You must be of a heretic band who thinks such things are permissible. One man and one woman, as Adam had his Eve. Of course, much allowance must be given as you have obviously been a zanahben to that fil--" His words ended abruptly with a loud slap across his face.
"Listen to me, you backwoods bastard. I have been no one's whore, and Harcos is one of the most just and holy men I've known even though he has not yet given himself to Christ's salvation. And do not DARE quote of Deuteronomy and Leviticus to me, you unlettered prick, while we stand downwind of the pigs you keep for slaughter and for meat." He stood, originally outraged and now stunned.
"I may have to hobble to do it, but with God the Father watching my hand I will gut you and feed your innards and your soul to the unclean creatures you foster in blasphemy. Preach at me again, you disgusting child, and you have better be certain that scripture is on your side.
I let my voice drop back to calm and business-like, as if an eclipse had ended as suddenly as it had come, knowing how disconcerting and shocking such shifts could be. "So, you practice monogamy. It is not forbidden in scripture, of course, but seems an odd way to fulfil so many of God's commands. No matter." Aleti's eyes were round orbs, completely at a loss to follow my shifting and darting topics.
"You are proficient in Christian Love, are you not? Skilled in the arts of Brotherhood and the sacred joining of congregation?" He stared, baffled. "You surely share the touch of brotherhood amongst family?"
"T-touch? No, my br-brother. Touch is forbidden. Touch is the tool of the Great Enemy. We do not touch, ever!" By Noah's holy and productive balls! Ayib was RIGHT?!? They throw away God's greatest gift and Christ's most-sacred message, that love MUST be shared between and within and across and throughout the Flock? That nothing is greater than the Communion and the holy Congress at the heart of every Christian Congregation. Okay, time to switch track.
"How many True families are there in this place?"
"O-O-Only ours, M-Matthaios."
"Well, then it would seem monogamy a wise choice... for now. So where is your wife?"
He stared at me blankly. "M-My wife?"
"You are the eldest son." I explained as if to a slow child... which appeared to be not far from the mark. "I know for a simple fact that your younger brother is a man already, so you must be. Where is your wife?"
He flushed and the outrage took the fore, pushing aside his stunned acceptance of my assumed position of authority. "I have no wife and that is mete and just! You overstep yourself, 'brother'," the sneer was back, "for I am the rock upon which God has chosen to--"
"Crap! You, in this little hill encampment, this hovel, are greater than Adam? Than Noah? Than Abraham and Ishmael? Than Jacob and Joseph? Than Isaac himself? And that is just in the first book of His Holy Word!" His jaw was dropped and eyes wide.
"Every one -- EVERY one of them, 'brother' -- was told by God Himself to be fruitful and multiply! Where are your sons to strengthen the One True Faith? Where are your daughters to bring for new life? YOU MOCK THE ONE TRUE GOD!" He gawped at me. I felt a smile grow within me that I hid beneath the fiercest scowl Harcos ever taught me.
There are many things that can be said about the Latin of the Heathens of Rome. It is wordy, ugly, boring and flat. It is also wonderfully sonorous. I lowered my voice and let the sounds ring, my voice rising in power with each word. "In principio enim VERBUM. et DEUS erat Verbum. DEUS erat Verbum"
"W-w-w-what are you d-doing?" What I was doing was reciting one of my favourite verses of all the Testaments, the beginning of Gospel of John the Evangelist.
"I warned you and your nest of vipers not to test me. I am initiated into deeper mysteries than you know. You have forsaken even Genesis! You have forsaken the Touch of the Brotherhood in Christ! You DARE to pretend to the One True Faith? Pretend even to be a foundation upon which God might build?
"In principio creavit DEUS!!"
"W-w-w-?" His eyes were now huge with panic. I had called out his ignorance of scripture. I had punctured his false pride. I had put the lie to his family's perversion of the Faith. His breath came short and fast, eyes darting in desperation. Well that's just fiiiiiiine.
"I pronounce your DOOM, lest you grow to further pollute and corrupt the One True Faith!" I allowed my chest to swell and tried to hide the wince as my leg screamed at me. "omnia per ipsum FACTA sunt et sine ipso FACTUM est nihil quod FACTUM EST!!"
"No! No! I repent. I repent! Please, Mattaios, please!"
"in ipso VITA erat et VITA erat LUX hominum!
"You repent but will not reform! You are PRIDE! You are CONCEIT! You are CORRUPTION!
"et LUX in tenebris LUCET et tenebrae eam non CONPREHEN--" He fell and clutched at me and it was all I could do not to scream in agony. It was worth it, though, as I listened to him babble. I 'let' him guide me to a convenient stump and sit me there, promising, well, everything. I put my hand to his forehead to stem the stream of begging.
"You will amend your wickedness?" He cried, nodding and affirming each thing I said. "You will find humility in Christ? You will return to the Fold in act instead of mere words? You will find a wife, strong and hearty to fulfil God's command?"
"Yes, brother, yes! Yes!"
"You claim the Brotherhood name of Aleti, the rock akin to the Holy Peter, Shemayon Keppa himself? Do you know what about Peter the Lord Incarnate saw? He saw a man of humility, faith and obedience. You have one, faith, but have forsaken the other two. Christ saw a man who would gladly bring himself low so as to support the Church itself. Nothing is lowlier than a rock, my brother. I do not withdraw my doom, but I postpone its completion. Do more than repent -- reform -- and I will only then withdraw it." The vision I had before as I watched the family scratching and strutting, of them as chickens in a yard, came back as I watch this grovelling man bobbing his head as a hen with fresh grain.
"Go this moment to the hovel and bring to me the book!" Cuz, to be perfectly honest, I couldn't have walked more than a few steps at that point without falling over. "Bring it here, and with it water to sooth the throat."
He scurried off and I finally allowed the wicked and holy smile (yes, one can be both those things at once) to spread. One perverts the One True Faith at one's peril, for only in its completion is God manifest. I had heard recently of several sects who ignore entire gospels, relying on four or even one! I found that this little pocket of hell was just as bad in a different way when Inkar returned (Aleti, indeed!).
As was common, he held a box of hand-written copies, most in a cramped and hurried hand. Thank heaven one of them, at least, could read! There were the tell-tale signs of intense wear from years of use. To be fair, it was a nice box to hold the Book, with some rather impressive woodwork and chasing.
What was within, though, nearly brought me to despair. At the top were a dozen or more of those ubiquitous epistles. You could find damned near any perversion you wanted by picking the right ones. I sighed deeply. Nearly all were the garbage spouted by that Roman tax thief, Saul. 'Scales fell from my eyes' my left buttock! The man saw a chance to become rich and famous and bend the True Faith with his gentile bigotries and perversions. He could preach, though, I'll give him that.
They had the Five Books of Moses; good. They seemed to have most of the Major Prophets. Completely missing were the beauty of the Wisdom Books. That delicate and loving prose and poetry of Solomon would have gone far to ease the twisted mess these creatures had made of the Faith. Minor Prophets could wait.
"Inkar," he could not miss that I had returned to his face-name, "there is much missing here. Our family," -- Ah! That piqued his interest and no mistake -- "must save to buy the wisdom missing from this box.
"What do we trade with the local Heathens?" 'We' again brought a glint of hope and, perhaps, a touch of avarice to his eyes.
"Meat, cheese and leather, Matthaios."
My brow furrowed. "No crafts at all? No weaving? Healing? Woodwork? The work on this box is fine indeed and you do not sell the product of the Talents given by God?"
"Th-the work is mine, brother. Mother thought it crude and ugly, but Father allowed me..." That was something to think on and no mistake. The horror inflicted upon Ayib was not the scapegoating of a single child, but a pattern of denigrating those Mother found wanting.
"Pray with me now, brother, for wisdom to guide what must come next." I knew damned well what would come next, but needed time to put the pieces in the right order. I let him through the common litany. I made sure that children, family and a father's place were prominent, adding enough Latin and Greek to keep him in mild awe.
"What did you hear from the Lord God as we prayed, Inkar?" He blushed and dropped his eyes.
"That I must find a wife, my brother." I pretended surprise.
"Yes. Yes, you must. And what else?" He looked at me and flushed, saddened and afraid.
"Th-That we, that I, that we must tame Mother's rage and Father's weakness?"
"Yes. It is a great sadness the day that the son becomes a man and knows his Father to be as flawed as other men. I felt that messages as well, my brother. We must, you and I, set our family in order to serve and please the Lord God." Hell yeah, we needed to set those two 'in order'. Who could possibly live with such monsters ruling everything.
"This night, Inkar, the children other than you and Ismet," his brow darkened as I suddenly demoted him to child again, "must be set away. Find some way to accomplish this. You and I will then set right the Father and Mother who allowed this to fester, and introduce Ismet to our shared vision of return to the Faith." That seemed to mollify him.
It turned out that the banishment of the youngsters was nothing more than a wave of the hand. Apparently, the monstrous parents often did so to 'hold prayer' -- terribly punish transgressions. I got fearful looks as the young ones assumed I was about to be chastised. A grim smile settled behind the impassive mask of my face.
Mother, of course, was the first to speak, haughty and imperious. "Aleti! Attend! Why have you sent the children to the sanctuary? I did not ask for such!" Sanctuary? Seriously? The boys were with the pigs and the girls with the goats!
I relied calmly, "I have asked for this time to discuss with you some matters, honoured parents." I slowly stirred some of my herbs in a small pot of steaming water. The key part was a rare powder made of a fungus-spoiled wheat from well to the northwest. The pestle of a particular flower, the shaft (but not cap) of a certain mushroom, and the bark of a certain type of yew were there as well. Honey and sweet nettles hid the taste. I served the tea to the four, taking a false-cup for myself.
"Let us discuss God's word." I guided them as they (mainly Mother) sipped and pronounced. Many times, I could see Inkar jump, alarmed as something he assumed I would explode over. I smiled and said nothing at their heresies, objecting only at true blasphemies. Mother's voice became higher and more exultant, Father's dreamier and more-complacent as the tea took hold.
Instead of listening to their words, I watched their eyes. It was perhaps forty minutes before I saw the black centre grow to completely consume the colour around it. I spoke in a cadence taught me by one of my own mothers. "You speak of love. Why deny love? Why repress love? Why avoid love for your children?"
"Love is evil!" The woman's eyes were wide and fearsome to behold. "Love is weakness! Love is passion and passion must be destroyed!"
"But is not God, love?" The tea, as intended, had loosed her tongue. She was in a place where her thoughts were her world and there was no other. I saw Father frown. He, too, was in such a place, but I could see his wife's words jarred, like the rasp of a saw on a hidden nail. Ismet, well, Ismet was lost. I could tell she floated where no words could find her.
"God? Speak not of fantasy. God is God is God is God. I rule here. My will be done!"
Inkar gasped and even Ismet stirred from he dreams. Father spoke now, slurred and confused. "But my Ana, as I am your Ata. You told me that your truth brought love BACK, not pushed it away."
"Oh, you simpering fool! What else would I say? You weak, waffling, deluded child-man. I told you what you needed to hear in order to build the family that was worthy of me, OF ME!" She rambled and ranted and fumed for perhaps an hour or more. When she flagged, I goaded. When she wandered, I prompted. The tea would cloud judgment, but would never cloud memory.
She spoke of sexual love as something that only she should ever, ever enjoy. Of peace and happiness as something only she should experience. Of touch and sensation as something that was her birth right and to be denied at a whim. She berated her husband in the most-emasculating terms. She mocked her son and his 'tiny, useless, deformed little pestle' and he daughter with her 'dried and barren quim'. But always, always, he most cutting mockery fell upon her speechless, horrified, mortified and (thanks to my tea) immobile husband.
After she began to repeat her villainy and nothing new was forthcoming, I passed around a new tea, this one of chamomile and jasperion, with valerian and hyssops. Ismet, Father and Mother got that one. Inkar got a different one. Strong, red-gold, vital. This was a tea of only two components. Roseroot and a unique ivy-root found near my own home, one I hoarded whenever I found it. As the other three slowly succumbed to sleep, Inkar began to sweat and shift uncomfortably. The reason was simple, his cock (assuming the little prick had one) was aching with need and his balls (ditto) were churning.
We went around covering the passed-out family then retired to the 'boy's room'. I stripped off and laid down as if nothing was amiss, making sure to lie in a way that showed off every part I had to best advantage. At first, Inkar tried in vain to avoid looking, but the two teas made that impossible. I reached south to scratch myself and his eyes, half-hidden, could not wrench themselves away from my flopping self. It took everything I have to NOT become rampant, but I was relishing his thirst to see me that way.
I surreptitiously watched him lick his lips over and over and over again. I knew the havoc that my herbs were wreaking in his body as he longed to fulfil his own -- or anyone else's -- basest needs. I wriggled to a new position and revelled in the whimper I heard. I looked to him.
"Inkar, is there something you want?" He fought for, perhaps, six seconds.
"OH GOD!" he launched himself across the room and was in my crotch like a hound with a rabbit. That made clear to me his fulcrum of need, and I knew the lever best suited to the night. He was driven by smell and taste, not sight or even touch. I grabbed his hair and pulled him back.
"What are you doing, Inkar? You said that touch was evil. That sex was evil. What do you want, Inkar?"
"I don't KNOW! I don't KNOW! I want, I want YOU, brother! I want to share God's congress with you. Oh, God, please tell me this is right!"
"Yes, it is right, brother, but it is right only if you mean it with your heart and not your loins. Pray with me, brother."
He moaned, then, but knelt next to me. I made sure that he sat in a way that he would be breathing my musk, my own lust, my own (slightly-enhanced with herbs) scent that would play upon the tea, unlocking his needs no matter how deeply buried.
"Heavenly father, guide your sons. Strengthen us in this hour of uncertainty. Show us the True Path that is hard and hidden from the easy and simple path of the Great Tempter." I shifted my weight frequently, both for the comfort of my screaming leg and for the flesh contact as it rubbed slowly against the straining Inkar, and the waves of new musk it released with each movement.
"Show us the correct path for love, the correct path for brotherhood, the correct and righteous and true path for two brothers in your Church to affirm their bond. Show Inkar the way, and allow me to share in that knowledge. Show us your love, your tenderness, your strength, your {mrphgurph}" It was a good thing that Inkar took it upon himself at that moment to launch himself into a more-than-brotherly kiss because, frankly, I was running out of boons to ask for!
For a young man who had lived in a world where any touch, certainly anything as intimate as a kiss, was the ultimate evil, Inkar was both an enthusiastic and rather talented beginner. Careful to avoid destroying my leg further, I pulled him down and to the side and proceeded to give him a demonstration of what a lifelong Christian and student of God's gift of love could do. When I had him quivering and whimpering with sustained need I pulled back from the kiss.
"What answer did God give you, my brother? What path did he show you?" His hands and lips were suddenly everywhere. I blocked his every attempt to reach my crotch -- that was for later -- but I allowed my own feather-touches to give him hints at needs he never wanted to imagine but held trapped for too, too many years.
He spent a lifetime in my armpit, licking up my deep manliness and his own tears. He was weeping openly with joy and release as he slurped up my lust-drenched sweat. I smiled. When he had thoroughly cleaned my pits, I relented slightly and allowed him at my taint, balls and bush, fending him only from my cock itself. With his face enmeshed beside my balls where the musk was deepest and most-pungent, I felt him unconsciously hump against my (uninjured) leg. I pushed him deeper with my hands and I tensed the muscles of my leg where his cocklet was rutting, all he needed to explode in howling release, muffled only by the hair where his face was buried.
I gave him no time to recover. I flipped him, still spasming and grunting, onto his back and began to gnaw his tender nipples. By the time his eruption waned, Inkar was already moaning in need again. I set to remedy that; oh, no, moaning was certainly NOT enough!
I latched one hand around his still-churning nuts and pulled them gently but firmly away from his body. This cum, this was going to last a long, long time. When his nipples were red and throbbing, I moved to his ears, his neck, his lips. At each stop, my spare hand made short work of another spot, a nipple, a side, a shoulder. I finally went down and gave a single, long, lick on his cocklet from balls to tip, swirling and savouring the leaking seed from his eruption.
It wasn't much to speak of, really. When I wrapped my fist around it as far down as possible, only the circumcision scar and the head itself protruded above it. The noises Inkar was making now, though, left no doubt that his tiny prick had as many or more nerves than any horse-cock in the Roman Legion. I felt him approach release again and smiled. With my other fist where it was, his balls trapped far from the shaft, he could stay on that knife's edge for hours and never reach completion. That is when he began to beg, pray and plead for release. Oh, I hardly think so.
I then took the childish man on a tour of what the Christian body could do when properly treated, licking sucking, nipping, teasing, pinching, stroking every part that could give pleasure. His body had quaked three times in pseudo-orgasm before he finally lost the knowledge of words and entered into that state of Holy Grace where God dwelt, thrashing and writhing.
I turned fully and engulfed his cocklet just as I presented my own throbbing manhood to his face. In the fire of holy communion, he began to suckle and devour as much of me as he could fit. We would need a number of lessons, most urgently one regarding the whole 'teeth' thing, but overall he was quite a talented amateur. I brought him and kept him at the trembling edge of explosion until he had me close. I released his balls and lunged forward, capturing them in my mouth and driving the head of his cocklet into my convulsively-swallowing throat. My tongue rolled and licked his balls as they pulled almost into his body. His primordial cry of release turned to a gurgling moan as I began to unload, forcing him to swallow or drown.
I allowed him to take my offering three more times that night, and I dragged two more loads from him as well. I knew it was critical to cement this holy bond and drive home the essential truth of the Brotherhood of Christ while the tea was strong in him. God had made the herbs I brewed, and He had given me the knowledge of them through my mothers. He had also left me with the magnificent Harcos those years to hone and improve my skills at brotherly love. I realised as Inkar grunted and squealed his way through this night of ecstasy: This was why He had done so. This sad and blasphemous little flock had need of what I had been given, and God in his Mercy had given me, his servant, the tools to save them from themselves.
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Active storelines, all at www.nifty.org/nifty/gay... Canvas Hell: 24 chapters .../camping/canvas-hell/ Beaux Thibodaux: 15 chapters .../adult-youth/beaux-thibodaux/ The Heathens: 17 chapters .../historical/the-heathens/ Off the Magic Carpet: 10 chapters .../military/off-the-magic-carpet/ Lake Desolation: 9 chapters .../rural/lake-desolation/ Dear John Letter: 3 chapter .../military/dear-john-letter/ Brother Bear: 2 chapter .../incest/brother-bear/ Shark Reef: 2 chapters .../adult-youth/shark-reef/
Special collaboration with Brad Borris: In God's Love .../incest/in-gods-love/