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DKUSAN02 thick black hair and piercing black
DARKSIDE: The United States of Anarchy; "Indian Cavern."
[Version Control : Original.]
[Disclaimer: This text is intended for adult audiences, if you are
not of age to view it, be somewhere else. This series of
explores the darker aspects of the human experience, if that might
offend you, then you were warned, and it isn't my problem. -- KTM]
Anything can happen in the Multiverse. Even a world that
is much like ours, but which somehow... isn't. A world that is a
magnet for the blackness in the dreams and souls of humankind. A
world known as: The Darkside.
The World's economic system depends on a delicate
interlocking system of mutual trust and financial debt. When those
bonds shattered, the governments and monetary institutions
crumbled. Even the most idealistic civil servants left their jobs
when their families were gripped with hunger. The Survivors of the
Chaos would come to call their nation the United States of Anarchy.
Chapter 2. "Indian Cavern." -- by KTM.
Robbie had been spotted. He'd left the caves to go into
town yesterday to scrounge some food, and had come back at a run.
He heard yelling after him, telling him to stop, but by cutting
through the shortcuts all the town kids knew, he got to the caves
before them.
He hugged the back wall of the area he'd explored, and
listened to echoes of voices at the mouth of the cave. Robbie
prayed they wouldn't come in, but his stomach when he saw the
flashlights beginning to shine inside the first chamber of the
cave. He heard them tearing the boards away from the entrance.
They couldn't squeeze through the place where the planks gapped
like he could.
"You'd better come out here, kid," a gruff voice shouted to
him. Robbie identified it as Bear's voice. "If we have to come in
and get you, we'll kill ya!"
Robbie didn't answer, but instead he started feeling his
way back as quick as he could to the inky shadows where he hadn't
explored yet. He didn't dare use the electric lantern he'd found
in the cave, that was tied to his belt. He would just have to feel
for a way to escape.
A shiver ran through him. He thought of the many
told about the caves. The ghost stories, and tales of how the
first white explorers had found an Indian's skeleton, stretched out
in the act of trying to leave the caves. The cavern was the
favorite subject of local campfire creep stories. There was a
whole century of speculation about what exactly 'did in' the dead
Indian passed down from one generation to the next.
His heart pounded in his chest as the light level behind
him got brighter. They were inside the caves now. His hands found
a low, small tunnel that seemed to go back some way. As he
hesitated, he heard footsteps on the loose rocks in the middle of
the outer chamber. Robbie turned and quickly crawled into the tube.
Lights flashed past the entrance of his tunnel as he
scrambled to get even deeper. "Hear that?" Bear said. "Little
bugger's nearby. Find him!" The lights kept playing around, until
one shot in Robbie's tube, outlining him against the rocky walls.
"There he is," said. "It's a real small hole, though.
Can't I just shoot him and we can leave? They say things about
this place that I don't like."
Bear rumbled, then said, "Naw, go in there and drag him
out. You're small enough to go after him."
The kept pushing into the tube, listening to the teen
curse several body lengths behind him. The ground gave slightly
under his small hand, and it stayed sunken in. Robbie froze for a
minute, until he felt reach to touch the heel of his sneaker
with his outstretched fingertips. Robbie moaned.
"Damn!" said, "Can't quite grab him!"
Robbie lurched forward, desperately trying to scramble
beyond the soft spot, and banged his head on the rocks that closed
off the tube. He was left with his whole weight on the weak floor,
and unable to retreat.
"No!" he cried as the floor crumbled from under him. He
fell for what seemed like forever, flailing as he tried to grab
something. Robbie landed with the sound of a wet stick breaking and
a searing stab of agony in his leg.
"Mother puss-bucket!" shouted, praying, for he was just
short of the dark that had swallowed up the boy. He inched
closer, peering down along his flashlight beam. It spotlighted the
still form of the at the bottom, one leg bent at mid-shin.
"He's a goner, Bear," he called back. "He fell down real
deep and he's all busted up. Go ahead and pull me back."
"You sure he can't get out?" Bear said to him.
"Just as sure that I can't go get him," answered.
"Trust me, he'll be dead real soon, if he ain't already."
Robbie was inclined to believe him. Things looked bad.
He'd played dead while checked on him, and passed out for a
while after the lights and voices faded. He pulled the lamp from
his belt and pumped the handle for as long as he could. When he
turned it on, he could see that he was in a big cave, so big the
ceiling was dim to his faint light. The he fell through was
just a shadow to his eyes.
There was smaller chamber attached to this one, just a
niche in comparison, and he could hear water trickling in there.
It took a long time before he was thirsty enough to try, and even
longer for him to finally make it to smaller space.
He wet his mouth with the mineral laden trickle. The lamp
had stopped working, or he wasn't pumping it enough for it to
activate, he couldn't tell. He wasn't even sure he cared anymore.
At least it was warm here. There was a soft heat pouring from the
back of the smaller cavern. He was starting to feel sleepy...
<Boy,> said a distant voice. <Awaken.>
"Leave me alone," Robbie said. "I just want to sleep."
<Will you sleep your last, Boy?> the soft voice persisted.
<I can support you for a time. Open your eyes, and then listen to
me.>
The looked around. In the back of the niche, about
twelve long feet away, was a cluster of crystals bigger than he
was. It glowed with a soft amber light. Dimly within it, he could
see a black Rod, like a softball bat with big nobs on the heavy
end. The weapon was over four feet long, and it radiated a feeling
of power and menace.
<Take me up, Boy,> the voice whispered to him. <You can
just reach in and draw me forth. Untold power and majesty will be
yours if you do.>
"I'm not King Arthur," Robbie giggled, a little
deliriously. "I can't pull the Rod from the stones."
<And I'm not 'Excalibur', but nonetheless, I can make you
a king.>
"I wouldn't have a kingdom. This is America; no kings."
<No Government either, but with me you can make a kingdom,
and have whatever else that you want. What dark desires lie in
your heart, Boy? Tell them to me, and if you've the strength, I
can make them come true.>
Robbie thought of himself, a short for his age as
a king, trying to hold up the dark Rod, and shook his head,
rejecting the ridiculous image. "It won't work," he said. "I'm
too little."
<Ah, but what if you were grown?> the voice asked.
In the boy's head another image formed, of himself, but
older. In his mid twenties, tall, muscular, and chiseled; his
build was good enough to make a superhero jealous. He had a shock
of black hair and piercing black eyes. He carried the Rod
effortlessly, and under his blue jeans, his crotch had a bulge to
match his heroic proportions.
<I can make this happen, and give you that body if you just
take me in your hand.>
As Robbie reached out in a haze his leg shifted, and a stab
of ripping pain stopped him. "Ow!" he cried out. "If you're so
powerful why don't you heal me first? Then I'll pick you up."
<It doesn't work that way. You have to touch me before I
can work any changes on you. You have to choose me.>
"But it's too hard to move," Robbie complained. "Can't you
do something to help?"
<If you don't get over here, you will die. Soon. If
worldly wealth and power or even physical prowess are not enough to
induce you to move, what will? Not even the threat of your
imminent death seems insufficient. What will make you fight your
pain and grasp your destiny?>
"Wait a minute," the said. "Why are you in there? Why
aren't you giving someone else the power if you're so great?"
<I can only bestow the power on the being who touches me
with the intent to take it. Those were the rules Raven and Coyote
made when they banished me here long ago. They didn't like the
influence I was having on their people. You are the first since
that time to make it this far. You aren't much, but you are all I
have to work with.>
"Raven and who?," Robbie said. "And gee, thanks so much."
<What makes your passions great? What makes you angry?>
"I guess the brigands do," Robbie said. "They killed my
dog. They shot my dad, and they... my and sister. I wish
I could just... break them in half!"
<You can, you know. That wish can come true. Let me show
you. Only your imagination can limit the power.>
In his mind the saw his man-self confronting the
brigands, with the Rod in hand. Bullets bounced off him, and
knives were useless. The big Bear charged the image, and his
older self's free hand plunged into the thug's chest and with a
spray of blood, ripped the still beating heart out and crushed it.
yelled defiantly at him, so the Dark pulled back
the Rod like a ball bat and swung. The teen's head went flying
off, trailing gore. Next was Skull's turn. Robbie's dream self
pointed a finger at him and the gaunt burst into flames,
reducing him to a standing skeleton before crumbling into a pile of
ash.
The hairy Wolf turned into his name sake, and fled.
The rest of the brigands either ran away, or kneeled in obeisance
to their new lord. The black crowned turned, and looked over
to his house. and Sissy were safe on the porch, waving at him.
<That would be fun, wouldn't it? Mastering your enemies,
and becoming the ones that other fear? Is that reason enough for
you to come? To be a warrior, one must often suffer first. Come
to me, come and be strong.>
"Maybe," Robbie muttered. "I'll try." He crawled some
more, dragging his leg as carefully as possible. The slope of the
floor changed to a steeper angle, and the bones in his broken leg
rubbed at the break. Robbie turned white and gasped. He panted,
lacking the energy to scream.
"I can't go on," he said. "This has to be good enough."
<It isn't. You have to reach in and touch me with your
hand. What else is there that you desire? What was that dark want
that crossed your mind during the last vision? Something about
your family?>
"No! Get out of my head!" Robbie moaned. "You can't look
there." He grabbed his head as if he could use his hands to shut
out the insistent voice.
<A trace of guilt and conscious at last, Boy? But not a
very strong one, I see. Let's look at that again, and if you love
your life, don't fight me.>
Once again his strong-self stood triumphant over his
enemies in the arena of Robbie's mind, scarcely marred by their
blood. No longer was he the victim of bullies like the guy in the
strongman ads in comics. Now it was he who inspired others to run
away, to fawn on him for favor. It was a great feeling, but it
wasn't enough...
Robbie snapped his eyes open. He knew what it wanted.
Knew what the last stain was on his soul, the one that at last
would make him surrender. For as long as he could, the fought
the vision's insistent call, but he couldn't fight his own urges as
well. With a sigh, he gave in and let his eyes close once more.
...Victorious, the Dark turned again and looked toward
his house. Sissy and stood naked on the porch, smiling and
waving to their rescuer. In the vision his pants swelled with a
hard-on that would make cry and women swoon. It was as super-
human as the rest of him, and he wanted to use it on them. He
could pretend that the wasn't his sister, or the woman his
mother. They wouldn't know, the Dark didn't look anything like
little Robbie Black.
He walked to the house, leaving the brigands behind him.
But this time they would not be the ones to despoil his home, it
would be him. He remembered all the little petty annoyances of
family life. His "borrowing" his radio without permission
and lying about it. His grounding him for breaking a window,
when it was Kenny that did it, he could get even with them now. He
could do to them what the bad had done, what they had seemed to
enjoy so much...
<Oh, such a dark desire. That was quite a thing to see,
wasn't it? So strange, and so exiting. Do you remember how you
felt when you came with your little cock? I can promise you that
the pleasure will be magnified with the size of your dick. If you
want to fuck like a man, little Boy, get over here, and touch me.>
Robbie gritted his teeth, and crawled over to the crystals.
It was three foot away, but he moaned, and got that distance down
to one foot. He reached out, and touched the crystals. They
tingled to his fingers, and with an extra pressure, like pushing
into clear jello, his hand passed through them. He reached for the
still black Rod, and missed! Bare inches separated him from his
goal, but it was still too far.
It was just too much for the boy, Robbie collapsed from his
strained position and started crying. He cried until he couldn't
anymore, then lay there, feeling his tear tracks dry on his face.
The smell of the dust he lay in tickled his nose, but he was too
tired to care. It was very quiet in the cave, except the erratic
drip of water, from what seemed like miles behind him.
<Boy, it had better be soon. Try again! Try harder!> The
voice was louder, it snapped at him, galvanizing him with it's tone
alone.
He grabbed a chunk of crystal, and pulled hard, screaming
as he jostled his leg. His chest was pressed against the cluster
of crystals. Now, all he had to do was reach out. But after all
his pain and effort, something he couldn't fathom made him
hesitate.
<Take me up, Boy,> it said softly. <And all that I
promised will be yours. Boss of your town, Master of your state,
King of America, Emperor of the World! Fuck anyone you want, even
your and your sister, I don't care. You just have to
choose.>
"Forgive me," Robbie whispered to that unknown impulse, and
he reached out and grasped the Rod.
Fire arced through him. The crystals turned to molten
glass, and crawled up his arm like a living thing, burning his
flesh. The Rod fought the Wards, and tried to heal his leg at the
same time. It raised itself up, his hand still firmly grasping it,
and smashed down on the crystals, extinguishing the fire.
Abruptly his arm and leg felt better. Then a stinging,
enveloping feeling covered his whole body, forcing his eyes shut as
the world blurred. His heart was pounding in his chest, but it was
much stronger than he ever remembered it.
He stood up easily, nude and magnificent in the suddenly
smaller chamber that was now lit up by the Rod. Raising his
handsome head, he could see the small in the ceiling that he'd
fallen through to get in here.
"I want to see myself," he said, and was startled by the
deep, rich tone of his voice. A field shot from the Rod, and it
mirrorized. He saw in the reflective surface the man-self from the
visions. His hand roamed over the body, and confirmed to him what
he saw. Especially his cock! He let go of the Rod and it floated
before him.
A far cry from the little dick he'd just had, this massive
piece of meat looked bigger flaccid than Skull did erect. He
rubbed his hands over it, stroking it, pulling on it.
"Show me my memories," he commanded, "what I saw through
the vent in Mom's room."
One last time he heard the voice, <The Rod is a part of you
now, like your eyes or your hands. You don't need to speak to it,
anymore than you need to tell your hand to bring a spoonful of food
to your mouth. Just imagine what you want to do, and *you* can do
it.>
The surface rippled, and he could see once again his
and mother, thrown on the big bed and ravished by human trash. The
scene was just as riveting to him as it was before, and it had the
same effect on him. His new male appendage swelled, turning
and then purplish with the engorgement. It stood rigidly of it's
own accord, sticking straight out from his hard body, bobbing
gently to his pounding heart beat.
He cupped his scrotum, feeling the heavy balls move in
them, brushing over the light coating of short dark hairs on them.
He ran his fingers through the heavier growth above his cock, and
then began to pay homage to the star of this show.
It took a hand as big as the one he had now to wrap around
the shaft. The size didn't quite compare to the ebon artifact in
front of him, and the purple head was shy of being as big as his
closed fist. Still, he was very pleased with his new tool.
He gripped it below the head, slowly pulling back the loose
skin, to reveal the head fully. With his other hand he rubbed over
the tip, spreading the thin lubricating fluid around liberally. He
pushed his hand forward just as slowly, and made a small noise of
pleasure at the minor stimulation that the first stroke provided.
With his eyes locked on the sordid scene, he stroked
himself leisurely. When his surrendered to the over-
stimulation, he sped up his pumping. Then he watched once more as
Skull fucked his sister, timing him strokes to the gaunt man's
thrusts again.
His succumbed to the forced orgasm, and he went
faster still. Finally as Skull came, the Dark also shouted
"Take it!", spraying the image with gobs of white. It made the
surface ripple, like raindrops onto pools of water, dissolving the
pictures into chaos, that resolved into his own reflection once
more.
"I'm not Robbie anymore," he said, a little breathless.
"My name is Robert, Robert Black. And the whole world is going to
pay for fucking up my life!"
It was time to go, he took hold of the Rod again. He had
to extract an installment on the debt the universe owed
him, and which he now had the means to collect.
To be Continued...
May, 1997 -- Darkside: United States of Anarchy, Part 2 of 20.
Series Continues after #20 in Darkside: Imperial States of America.
Archived @ "ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/World_of_the_Darkside";
Or www.asstr.org/~World_of_the_Darkside & www.greyarchive.com.