Links In the Chain

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Links in the chain. The perfect alignment of solar planes, a warm evening breeze, strong wishes, desires pumping the falling genitals of creation, at least that’s the story according to the Greeks, the Gods and furies were just that, pieces of Uranus’s prick after his wife cut it off, and it fell down, from the heavens. Yes even the Goddess of love was just a piece of the pre-Titian package.

And who am I? I no longer know. I have two names now, my old one, which was Basil Hirremponius, youngest son of an ancient Byzantine family, and his name, which has become mine after the exchange, Wesley Yardell. He is everything that I had always wanted to be, and he is now the lesser man. I am still learning what he did to deserve that fate. I had earned it by being the fifth son...

...That night started like a thousand others. I lay on the dark plank of my musty cell listening to the nightly vibrations of the other monks, the celestial music that mimicked prayers and chants at times, but was clearly the voice of deep sleep. I was not so fortunate. Sleep has never come easy to me. I used the time to reminisce about a journey I had taken several months before.

I wouldn’t have been one of the brothers selected to go into the territory of the Franks except for my command of languages. We were part of a diplomatic venture to plea the case of our she-wolf, Empress Irene to the now widowed bull of France, King Charlemagne. My monastery was involved with Byzantine politics through the political offices of some of our brothers, as well as their blood-ties to the royal family. So many of us eunuchs were gelded so we couldn’t lay claim to the throne, or to put us in position to assume a title that would threaten the Empire by demanding it be passed down to our sons.

As history will note, our mission was not

successful, and there was to be no wedding between Constantinople and Paris. On our return we took a side trip to see the advanced work in medicine of a group of brothers who were affiliated with the Knights Templar. I made friends with an older Priest while staying there, who seemed more Druid than Christian. He looked deep into my eyes, and told me that I would never be a true missionary until I made peace with my loss.

He looked below, and I reddened with a shame that I was taught was a meaningless occupation. He asked me for my fondest desire. I replied with the response that I had been conditioned to say: “To love God, and serve with all my heart.” I felt like he was entering my brain, inside, silently he said to me, ”I know what you long for, and there is a way. I will teach you.”

I looked at him bewildered, as he touched my palm and transmitted a shock to my system.

“Your mission is far away, in space and time.” He then turned away and walked towards their monastery. I never saw him again although I asked for him several times through our stay. Several brothers smiled and acted as if they knew the one I spoke of, only now I wonder if he was even one of their order.

As I thought of him again that night I felt this burning and then a feeling akin to dying, wrapped in passion. It was as if I was back on the road, then I became aware of another man passing by as we hurtled through the demonic space. I opened my eyes and found myself out in the dark night. It smelled alien, like burnt tar, although I later learned I was far from the city. If I miss anything of my own time, it is the oxygen of fresh air, and the taste of unhampered waters. In all other ways this world so far has been better.

My first reaction was the feel of flesh. I was no longer a weak, elongated soft and pretty man, I had his body, the stranger who I passed in the night-space. He was a complete man. I wanted to shout and rejoice at the feel of flesh hardening, and the plump sac filled with man seed. There was little time, and I was confused by the strange noises. I ran my new firm hands over a cleft chin, and felt the sting caused by the friction of a beard fighting to come back in.

For a moment I sorrowed for this other man. What would he think of my smooth hairless body, my limp and shriveled cock hanging low without this glorious padding? The bones creaking as the youthful beauty is elongated in my face, my limbs, and my fingertips. I wondered how long I would have the use of his body, as I knew instinctively that we somehow were switched. I had hope that the electrum necklace wouldn’t re-adjust before I had a chance to take pleasure in this flesh. I thought that I had no time to squander. As I thought about masturbating the hardened cock he had been well endowed with, I blushed wondering if I would feel as if it was his or mine as I stroked the magnificent organ. I put off the temptation for a minute or two so I could look around.

The landscape at first seemed hostile, and then I realized that it looked a bit like the western land where the Turks live, softer mountains in the distance, a deep friendly violet in the moonlit evening. Seemingly impatient with me a horse came over and pressed it’s warm nose against my shoulder. I saw that the caramel-colored creature had a bridle on. I knew how to ride, and the man I had become knew horses instinctively. Across the horse was a new apparatus, a saddle designed so comfortably that I rode upon on the back of this beast with pleasure. The urgency of the animal made me put off the demands that nature was calling to me. I leaped up, delighting in riding this noble creature; its gait provoked my cock to harden anew. I could have ridden all night just to feel the sensation of an untampered cock, with the damp pre-cum stirring below.

The horse knew where it wanted to go, and that was homeward to a warm shelter. I saw the moving shadows of cows around me. Joy sang in my heart as I caressed the lean sinewy neck and felt the pleasure of manhood rise, entrapped in the indigo, tight pants I was wearing, a strange and erotic costume. Well trained, the horse walked into the stable yard. It was an open shelter stocked with hay bales and water. I noticed several metal units and a cheerful adobe house up ahead.

There was a courtyard flooded with sun-like lamps. The fire was cool within them. It seemed like alchemy to have the light of so many candles without a source. I got off the horse and it moved to a metal stall. I didn’t quite know what I should do. Then cautiously I tread to the doorstep of the house. It was unlocked, so I opened it and entered. Inside it was cool and dark, only the outside light making sense of the shadows.

I jumped as a loud blast thundered past my left ear. I could smell sulfur as a voice was raised in agony. “ YOU BASTARD!, YOU BASTARD!, I CAN’T EVEN KILL YOU!”

I was compelled to face a young woman, she was sobbing frantically. As she came closer I could see that she had been brutalized. Her one eye was swollen shut, and her lip was bleeding.

“Who did this to you?” was all I could think to ask her.

“YOU DID, you damn crazy SON-OF-A-BITCH! I can’t take one more day of it, Wesley! I want you OUT!

“I’m so sorry, so sorry. I saw her pale blond hair sticking to her tear streaked cheeks. Without thinking I leaned over to comfort her.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!”

“Can I pray for us then?, please-I’m a monster to have beaten you.”

“YOU FEEL REMORSE! WHAT A JOKE!” She collapsed in a heap of tears, a small colt pistol dropping from her delicate hand. This half-broken creature. I wondered what she was to him, to me...

...Instantly I was deluded with images of an exquisite maiden. I saw her regaled as nobility, shiny and bejeweled. She was riding a chocolate Arabian horse; she was a rodeo Princess. Her crystals twinkled as she rode around an open theater as loud masses screamed it was a place similar to the Hippodrome. She was to be a Queen; they all said so, the following year, Miss. New Mexico rodeo and she had given the crown up for Wesley. The swaggering fool that I had become. I stood watching her helplessly.

She proceeded to wipe her eyes with the palm of her hand, “God just get me a tissue or something!”

I looked around the cavern-like room, until I spotted a box painted with flowers that she was looking at sitting on a table with ox horn legs. I lifted a soft lace like sheet, and handed it to her. She rung it in her hand shredding it.

“Look, I’ll take the dress back, I still have the receipt. It’s just that I wanted something nice for Amanda’s wedding. It’s been over a year since I bought a dress.”

A dress? “Keep the dress.”

“You know we can’t afford it, the ranch has lost so much money. Damn, I really was going to shoot you, and you don’t even have insurance!”

“I’m so sorry that I hit you.”

“Ever since you’ve had to take out that second mortgage, you’ve been walking around with a short fuse. If I killed you what the hell would I do with the ranch?”

“Sell it?”

“No you fool, it’s been in your family for three generations. You’d never forgive me. If you were dead your ghost would come down and beat the shit out of me!”

“My ghost would beat you up?”

“Before you hit me you said you’d cut your balls off before you’d sell the ranch.”

I think I started to turn colors. “Look I think I’m getting brain-dead in my old age. What did you say that made me hit you?”

“How can you forget? I said it wouldn’t make a bit of difference if you cut your balls off. I thought you took the buridizzo to yourself months ago.”

“Then I hit you?”

“After I called you a steer, money does that or lack of it. We’re too poor to afford counseling, and you’ve been so mean Wesley. We’re at the end of the rope!”

I didn’t know what to tell her. All of my religious training didn’t help. I fought for words to say but they weren’t coming. Only my own lifetime memories of repressed desire and needs.

I went over to her and gently smoothed her hair. It was baby fine and golden. Like a curtain of silk it showered down. I picked up a lock and pressed it against my lip. It smelled like summer grasses and tackle soap.

She moaned and pressed against me giving signals that I was afraid to resist. I didn’t want to resist She deafly lowered the zipper of these work pants. She unsnapped the metal fastener. In my ear it sounded louder than the bullet had not so many moments ago. Under her own blue jeans as she called these pants as she wore the same; was white satin underwear. I never felt anything softer unless it was her velvet skin. She slipped off my own underclothes and now had the beautiful rock hard penis in her hot hands, teasing and pressing into it.

I was almost afraid to pull her lace panties down; I had never seen a naked woman before, much less touched one. She was looking up at me with anticipation. I couldn’t help myself. One hand reached bellow to explore as I crushed my lips on hers, my tongue outlining the contours of her mouth as I pressed it deep within. I could feel the soft muscular ridges of her inner jaw, and started to rely on Wesley’s memory bank to proceed further.

Now with gentle caution I slipped my hands under her course cotton shirt. Blanking my mind to female religious symbols, they didn’t belong in this earthly place I felt the soft butter sculpture of a warm woman. She had the anatomy of a life-size Goddess of Diana that had remained in Constantinople since the Roman times, The church fathers would faint on the spot to have seen the archaic image come to life.

Now with fever I unbuttoned her top. She started to undo a silken band wrapping her perfect mounds, her breasts.

“Don’t just stand there! help me get my bra off!”

She spun around, and I pried my fingers into the twin metal hooks that pressed into her slender back. All the while I felt the vigor of the erect penis, blood pounding with readiness as her hands returned once more to stroke and shelter it. She cupped the precious scrotum in her hands giving me shivers with the blood lust. She massaged the appendage that I later would call my meat, or my prick like everyone else, but then it was the gift I was given to use, she was causing the most intense excitement as she used her nails lightly brushed against the wiry hairs encircling the testicle sac, it was a million nerve endings sparkling like glass.

I helped her to the floor, and spotted my destination, the secret closed door of her cunt as she would later call it, to me it was an unbidden paradise, flesh like layers of mother-of-pearl leading into her inner-most chambers. It was oh so easy to push myself in, like the connection of a tessellation, or a colt after its first few steps, it was a hawking on its first flight. It felt so marvelously right as I pumped myself inside of her. I never had such strength, such power! The tube of her flesh was the board to be sprung from. I didn’t want it to end but she moaned and writhed, as the pen up man-seed became a river breaking through a rain-soaked dam.

When we finally caught our breathe our hearts were beating loudly echoing each other’s. I was suddenly filled with sweet sadness. In the scheme of things, this ranch and the young couple who lived here were important enough to draw me there, but this sexual union seemed to be the only bond this couple had. Already she had pushed me away; her mind closed once again, no more tender kisses or intimate words. It was my first time, and as I watched her walk from the room I knew how much I had to repair for him, for Wesley.

I still had the mind of a eunuch, as I wanted just to serve her, afraid I had pained her once more. In the days ahead there was no task too menial for me to do. I think I tried her patience with the fact there was never any thing to argue about. I did the farm work, getting strange stares from the Honduras ranch hands with my new attention to details. I preferred to work inside cleaning up after her, doing her laundry, massaging her feet, yes I was still mentally a eunuch. Only today when I realized I had been here for a month I began to wonder what harm he was causing back in the monastery with my brothers, as he was a eunuch with the experiences of a man of flesh! I was beginning to hope that I might not have to return, afraid of what he might have done with my own reputation!

2

“Fuck man! Talk about your worst nightmare. I woke up in this hellhole where I tripped over this rock in the floor. I started to think about how much I must have drunk last night to have this kind of damn hangover. The place was cold enough to freeze any kind of tit. I felt like I didn’t have one muscle inside of me. I was like a rubberman. Then, when I remembered I was going to drink when I got in from the back 40, I got really pissed. I started to think someone drugged me or something! I started singing an old Pearl Jam tune, I mean real loud and all these crazy brothers came running in. They talked some gibberish but the weird thing was I under stood them. They were all cocksuckers, some throwback cult or something. They tried to calm me down. By now I realized that I was wearing this dress-like robe like them. Man, the worst part is I had to piss real bad, I must have been drinking and didn’t remember after all. One of them with the faggy name of Basil, which he insinuated, was my name too. They think I’m a fucking Basil, just add some pine nuts and you have pesto sauce, yeah that was the kicker, there were no nuts! I went to this outdoor urinal place with some holes in the ground, and I couldn’t believe my eyes, I had this poor excuse of a shriveled prick and my nuts were gone, completely! When I stopped crying like a bloody girl I called Basil and I said, “Where the hell are my balls, boy! I want an explanation pronto.

The fag just winked at me and told me I lost them years ago. Man there’s going to be some bodies flying around here soon! I can promise you that. As I was leaving I banged right into a plank of wood; these dumb assholes don’t seem to know the slightest thing about screwdrivers, or screwing anything else for that matter. While as I’m waiting for the hangover to disappear or to wake up from this nightmare I’ve been fixing a few things around here. This Basil dude is hanging on to my every word, treating me like I was some kind of genius. These freaks have never heard about anything, I tell you. They didn’t even know what electricity was, they say that the Persians may have used it for electroplating gold or some rubbish.

I told Basil that I wasn’t going to last a night without a TV. I then told my shadow-puppy, Basil to call me Wes, after he said, “Basil I never heard of TV”. No one is calling me by his ball-less name! He gives me these woeful eyes, kind of like my wife, Pam on one of her good days, which isn’t many. Damn him, he even looks like Pam, actually he’s even prettier. I wish that she treated me so respectful too, he really seems to like me, hangs on to every word. Well it’s peaceful here, never felt so calm. I guess fighting with Pam was really getting to be a fucking pain. We were ready to kill each other! Basil said our monastery was South of Constantinople. I said, “Cut the bull about Istanbul I have never been to Turkey, and he didn’t know what I was talking about. He just looks at me with those adorable eyes. This place is driving me crazy! See I’m going mad. Basil is starting to look really good to me; of course at this point a heifer would look good to me I suppose anyway I can show him what a prick is really for. At least that seems to still be in working order. He keeps telling me that I should leave the caves these monks live in and see the city which from what he has told me sounds like a Hollywood movie set.

I hope that I wake up soon! I wouldn’t wish this nightmare on my worst enemy, well I take that back, there’s a dude that dumped some toxic chemical into the ground water near my wells, and I lost over 300 head of cattle last year, now it’s putting the ranch into bankruptcy, this should be his dream! I wish I knew how to save the ranch, but it’s hopelessly going down hill. This damn nightmare is getting too damn detailed, I think I remember this weird looking freak passing me in the night, on my way here. This nightmare is even in color, and I don’t dream in color. I can even see the amazing blue of Basil’s eyes, as he’s trailing me again, watching me copy some religious text, I’m writing this instead, and they have no idea what I’m writing, no one here can read English, they say it’s not a written language, yeah right! . This will be the day Basil; I know what you want!

I’ve been feeling a hell of a lot better since I changed my diet. The fruitcakes look at me oddly when I drink milk and eat greens; they know nothing about nutrition and calcium deficiencies around here, man I’ve taken care of enough sick livestock in my day to know what to do. Only Basil has tried to eat like me and he’s starting to positively glow. We have more energy than the rest of the brothers put together. I’m teaching him to jog, and when we go out today I’ve decided it’s time to teach him other things, he’s pretty real for a dream guy! Got to go, it’s time to take that jog so Basil and I can escape the afternoon prayers. They all think I picked up some disease when I supposedly went to France or something. They leave me pretty much alone. I guess they think with Basil as my chaperon what kind of trouble can I get into. I think I’ll tell Basil about the nude beaches I went to when I was at the French Mediterranean, the summer after I finished my Ag degree. Well it’s a bitch to write with ink and a fucking quill, so I’m quitting for the day. I’ll write more tomorrow. It keeps my sanity, and it keeps me from having to spend the day praying, and using these primitive garden tools. They find the way I write amusing, and I wonder how I know what they are saying.

Well Basil is back. I wish I could see his hard-on under his robe cause I know from the way he’s looking at me, he’s in lust poor boy.

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