The Tale Of Tadpole Boy: Chapter Four
Tadpole Boy whimpered to himself. He was horny and hungry but for the past day had done nothing to take care of either need. His fear of being hunted down and killed overwhelmed his body’s desires.
His mother and sister did not notice anything strange about his behavior. He had been sitting in the corner, in the dark, holding a knife and reacting to every noise he heard during the night. This didn’t bother them at all. It was, of course, because he had ordered them to treat everything he did as normal. In fact they noticed NOTHING out of place. The extra food, the many new blankets and weapons, the large black raven—nothing seemed strange enough to upset them. They took it all for granted.
The Raven was very disappointed. The Raven wanted sex, food, and good times but here was Tadpole Boy acting like a mole in his hole. The Raven bounced about on his bird-like legs and glared at the boy.
“Just because the Chief came to your house,” repeated The Raven for the fiftieth time, “does not mean that he knows what you have been doing.”
“They know!” whined Tadpole Boy, peeking out the doorway while grasping his spear.
“They do know that something is happening,” pointed out The Raven. “You need to be more careful about how you use my Voice. You need to be smart about what commands you give people.”
Tadpole Boy just sobbed and hugged himself. The Raven’s harsh words did nothing to comfort him.
“Listen, you just need to stay away from the other families for a few days,” suggested The Raven as he hopped around Tadpole Boy. “We have lots of food and two cunts right here.”
“My mom and sister?” asked Tadpole Boy, his eyes wide in shock.
“Sure!” said The Raven cheerfully. “You screw the old woman and I’ll deflower your sister. What do you say?”
“NO!” said Tadpole Boy, the horror on his face plain to see. “My own family? Never!”
The Raven looked upset and a tad angry. “Don’t act so high and mighty. Incest is great! Families do it all the time. How do you think Royalty keeps the wealth inside the family? Come on, at least let me have your sister.”
“No!”
Tadpole Boy thought that he was hearing both his worst nightmares and his sweetest dreams. He knew having sex with his mother would be wrong. He remembered loving her from his earliest days while thinking of her as pure and wonderful and perfect.
Then he hit that age when dreams twist, hair starts to grow in strange places, and one’s voice becomes unsure and deeper. He had started to think of her in other ways.
He had no interest in his little sister. Really, he did not care if The Raven used her or not. To him she was just another mouth to feed. When she was younger she would cry and cry, always hungry, always wanting more. The brat.
Yet his mother. His mind was twirling over the thought of having sex with his mother. He tried to think of it as love, as making love with her, but a part of him knew better. She would be in his bed because of his new commanding voice. Her will, her desires for him, would be planted inside her mind like a seed shoved into the dirt, to grow a tree. The dirt had no say. In the end, no matter how he tried to dress it up, neither would his mother.
Tadpole Boy was soon found waiting outside his family’s house, trying to block out the noise of The Raven fucking his sister. From the sound of her moans and screams, she seemed to be enjoying it. This, for some reason, upset him even more.
He had finally given in to The Raven’s continuous demands but had refused to stay in the house. He had rushed out even while his sister had started to disrobe. He wanted to pretend to have nothing to do with it. As if his voice had not been the one to bring the event into existence.
The sun was almost touching the sea and there he sat in the shadows. The flickering light from the fire pit barely reached him through the doorway. His hands over his ears did little to block his mind from his sister’s gasping voice, the sound of the bumping and thumping, and the cracking laugh The Raven made.
He knew it was wrong. Not because he cared about his sister but because he knew it was destroying the barriers between him and the idea of having sex with his mother. He was slipping down a slope towards something that he wanted to rationalize but knew could not be rationalized. He wanted it because his dark core wanted it. He would do it and make up reasons for it later; just like all men and women did.
His mother was still in the house, keeping his meal warm by the fire. She was not really ignoring the sex as much as just accepting it as normal. She just sat in the red glow of the crackling flames stirring the stew and making sure the fire was fed.
Tadpole Boy’s tummy growled and he could not keep himself out anymore. He pulled the heavy blanket to one side and entered, trying not to hear or see the fucking couple in the corner. He went over to the cooking pot. He just wanted some food. He thought, “I only want some food to help keep back the hunger.”
“Feed me,” he demanded as his mother filled a bowl up to the rim with stew. He slurped at it, his eyes shut, his focus on the food.
But it did no good. The panting, moaning bodies humping in the background gave him a painful hard on. Even while the warm fish stew went down, with each swallow his penis got harder and harder.
He wiped with mouth with the back of his right hand while pulling down his pants with his left. He wanted his mother so much. So very much.
He was the head of the household, was he not? Fathers and Husbands owned all within the walls. Therefore, so did he. He was the man of the house and his mother was his. Right?
“Come here mother,” he whispered, as if trying to hide his voice from his sister and The Raven.
His mother moved towards him and his last piece of willpower fell away as he grabbed her long black hair with his stew stained fingers.
“Suck my cock like a baby sucks a teat!” Tadpole Boy commanded.
As he felt his mother’s wet warm lips start to kiss and suckle on his cock’s tip he screamed out in horror. What was he doing? He pulled away and yelled, “Stop!” He kicked at her as he scrambled across the floor. He curled up in one of the darkest corners of the house and pulled up his pants.
As Tadpole Boy cried out in disgust, the three hunters sent out to bring back the Shaman Wind Talker were finally approaching the island where he resided.
The sun was setting when Raccoon stepped out of the boat, spears in hand. This left the others to pull the boat onto the rocky shore. He scrambled over the slippery stones and wet sand with his eyes scanning the dark trees that lined the beach.
Raccoon turned to his fellow hunters and said, “This island is larger than we thought. The woods are dark and thick.”
Tusk and Belly pulled the boat high enough to be safe from the changing tides. Tusk quickly collected some branches and sticks found along the shoreline. He started a small fire under some of the trees.
Tusk nodded to the fire and said, “Let us stay here for the night. The flames will keep back the animals. We can turn over the boat and use it to keep dry if it rains.”
Belly pulled out the bags, blankets and extra equipment. He placed them near the fire to dry. He pulled out some dried meat and said, “Here. We’ll eat this. It is too late in the day to cook. Let us go to sleep early and travel at first light.”
All the men agreed that it was best to wait till sunrise before going off into the strange forest.
They sat around the fire, ate the dried meat and tried to dry themselves out. They thought about the next day to come. They had watched the sun set as they sat next to the only source of light and worried about what they were in for. Out in the sea the waves seemed to grow larger and more powerful, as if nightfall was adding to their strength. The three men shivered and drew closer to the fire.
It was not that the men were scared. They were. Of course they were. They were not stupid.
They were men who knew the ways of the forest and the sea. They understand how wood flexed and rocks split. They knew their limits and their merits. They knew pride but also understand when to bow to those more powerful, more knowing than themselves. The Shaman was one of those beings who they needed to bow to.
But also Shamans were an unknown element in their lives. They understood bears and wolves and the always dangerous giant killer shrew. But Shamans were, first and foremost, human beings. Human beings could be the most dangerous and uncontrollable of all the Earth’s creatures. Only Chiefs and other Shamans could truly understand what went on inside the head of one who dealt with spirits daily.
The nearby forest seemed to grow darker and the branches swayed, making sounds that seemed both natural and horrible. The night animals moved about, making sharp clicking noises, and forced the men to watch the trees as if worried about surprise attack. The trees that seemed to hang over them, wiggled and shivered in the flicking red light of the flames, as if more animal than plant.
After a few minutes the men tried to ignore the forest and the ocean. They forced themselves to face the fire as if daring something to sneak up on them.
“I say we sing while we explore,” said Tusk. “We do not wish to surprise the old man. Shamans can be dangerous if surprised.”
“Maybe we should hunt for some game while we explore,” said Raccoon. “We can bring him some furs along with the other gifts the Chief gave us. Shamans can be dangerous if they do not get lots of fine gifts.”
“Maybe we should bring him some of the meat too,” said Belly tossing some more wood onto the crackling fire. “Shamans can be dangerous if hungry.”
All three men relaxed as if having a plan made them feel safer.
“Good idea.”
“Thank you,” said Belly with a grin. He was looking forward to trying out a new recipe and figured the Shaman would welcome a meal that nobody had ever enjoyed before.
“No, thank you,” said Tusk pulling out a sewing kit to work on some new boots. Boots were always welcomed in any household, no matter how rich or poor a person was.
“No, thank you,” said Raccoon as he checked the balance of some of his throwing spears. He pondered what kind of game the island might offer them.
“I said nothing,” said Tusk, looking confused as he fingered some of the skins he had brought with him. They were rabbit and would make very warm boots.
“Sure you did,” said Belly with a frown. “You said it was a good idea.”
“No, I didn’t,” said Raccoon and Tusk at the same time.
“Then who did?” demanded Belly forgetting the meal he had been planning in his mind.
“That is truly a mystery,” said Wind Talker as he helped himself to some dried meat.