Seek Him What Made Them Seven Stars
Waddie
Greywolf
Chapter 101
New Medievalism, where the evolution of glottalization is
leading to the formation of new autonomous societies that
exist outside of traditional nation states; from African
tribes being funded by brilliant expats on Wall Street, to
violent gangs working across countries and continents, this is
a trend that’s leading to both innovation and exploitation.
Perhaps paradoxically, as the world becomes ever more
connected together via the Internet and trade flows, we’re
actually seeing an increased drive towards regionalism and
'smallness' when it comes to national identity. How will all
this evolve in the coming years, and is the very concept of a
‘country’ under threat? New Medievalism is set to be one of
the defining ideas in politics, economics, and society over
the next decade, and will impact upon millions of lives. ~ Ben
Beaumont-Thomas (Not to worry, Folks. Cowboys are working hard
doing their best to bring balance to the bundle ~ W.G.)*
Due to severe global warming, the Hurricane season was becoming
worse every year, and the storms were off the charts in power and
devastation. They began earlier in the summer and became so strong
and plentiful, at the height of the season they were backed up in
holding patterns like jets at a large, busy airport waiting for
their turn to land while building up to enormous sizes to outdo
their brother or sister which went before them. Every once in a
while, one would overtake another and add its strength to its
predecessor to become a super-mega storm. The new storm hit Texas
around eight o'clock that evening, and it was another in intensity
like the previous storm which caused the disaster at Camp Air
several weeks before. The storm hit Houston about midnight and
traveled to the Hill Country four hours later.
The Cowboy-Angels were up early getting ready for the day. Bart
gave Master Ironmonger a time he must deliver his slave to the
dinning hall to have an earlier than usual breakfast at five a.m.
Bart planned to leave the Hill Country well before the nine
o'clock hour for the opening of the false NSA recruiting office.
They planned to gate to the Cow House Seal facility first, gather
the rest of their invasion posse to make sure their backup and
clean up team were in-place and ready to go. There, they would
join up with Lieutenant Dirk Evant and his mate, Chief Petty
Officer, Andrew Patterson and gate to Brigadier General Hank
Halfablap's condo to be driven within walking distance to the
false NSA store front. Bart made sure his team wore older
Wranglers and boots to make them look like authentic hard working
buckaroos down on their luck exploring any possibility of looking
for a better life.
Roy Boynton wanted his master to sleep in. He told Jurgen he would
wear his vibrating wrist-watch which would wake him in time. His
master would hear none of it. He wasn't about to let his young
warrior go on such a possibly dangerous mission without sharing
his love to carry with him. He wore Roy's watch and reset it
thirty minutes earlier so he would have enough time to fill his
slave with his love. They slept the night with Master Ironmonger's
rod of iron comfortably surrounded by his slave's small, tight,
velvet cave to keep him warm. When Roy's watch began to vibrate,
his Master gently woke him as he began to work his magic and his
slave opened to him like an Epiphyllum Oxypetalum, a
night-blooming Cereus.
Master Ironmonger took his slave strongly but with an uncommon
portion of tenderness and concern. Jurgen's philosophy of sex was
multifaceted. He possessed a keen sense of awareness for the need
of his partner while considering his current condition, and his
mental state. He could tell exactly the kind of physical attention
his slave might require for any situation from peace and
reassurance to rough and rowdy to instill greater self-confidence
– a signal for his slave's master to scratch a deeper itch – a
common need for strength and power from an emotional hunger to be
affectionately dominated; the difference between sharing and an
outpouring of willing obeisance.
Master Ironmonger was so good, when he emptied himself within his
sweet slave he kissed away his young Warrior slave's tears brought
about by his master's care to provide him with the ecstasy and
bliss Roy so deeply craved. They completed their passion and swore
their love for each other. They allowed themselves plenty of time
to bathe, dress, perform their morning ablutions, and for Master
Ironmonger to morph his slave's genitals to return him to his male
warrior status. As he held his slave in his huge arms, Master
Ironmonger kissed Roy on his forehead, gently pulled his head to
his massive chest with his large hand, “Promise me you won't do
anything foolish, Son,” Jurgen spoke softly.
“I'm a warrior, Master, but I promise I won't do anything out of
the ordinary, sir,” Roy replied almost on the verge of tears from
his master's honest and loving concern.
“Come home to your Masters, Son,” Jurgen added.
“I will, Master. Until I met you, life held little meaning for me.
I must return to you to fulfill our destiny, sir,” Roy replied.
“May them Ancients be with you and protect you, Son,” Jurgen said
and stole another kiss.
“I don't think they would have brought me this far, Master, if
they didn't mean for me to return to the man I cherish most
outside of my immediate family,” Roy said.
“I suppose not, but I will be thinking about you every minute and
shaking my fist at them to remember their investment,” Master
Ironmonger said, and they shared a laugh.
* * * * * * *
Billy advised his away-team it was raining heavily outside and the
weather conditions in Houston were even worse. He wondered if the
store front for the false NSA Recruitment Team would even be open
on such a nasty day. He suggested General Halfablap might want to
consider waiting at the drop-off point until he received a tickle
from his Major concerning their progress either way. Hank thought
it was a good idea. He agreed to park around the corner a block
away, within sight of the place until he heard from them. The men
donned their long rain slickers and put molded-plastic covers on
their western hats to keep the rain from ruining the felt and
running down their necks.
Bart, Roy, Lem, and Billy's Grand-uncle Gus (A.K.A Brigadier
General Hank Halfablap) were surprised and touched to find the
major portion of their family got up early to have breakfast with
them and see them off on their mission. Everyone wished them well
and admonished them not to do anything heroic which might cause
them harm. Billy stressed the very purpose of their mission was
heroic enough. He also added he couldn't imagine four better men
to handle the situation. “You men have our love and our faith you
will succeed without any harm coming to you,” he said.
The fearless quartet from the second Daniels clan and the sixteen
Cowboy-Angel-Warriors and Watcher-Protectors were ready. Four of
Billy's Cowboy-Angel-Warriors were dressed as cowboys and four
were in their warrior attire with their swords by their side. The
eight Watcher-Protectors remained in their large, hairy personas.
Together, they gated to the Seal Facility on the Cowhouse Creek at
Fort Hood, Texas to gather Admiral Art's men. They walked through
the wall of shimmering electrons two by two and the final eight of
Master Billy's Platoon contingency were pushing large four by
eight feet anti-grav platform trucks (sans wheels) to remove
everything from the offices.
Dirk Evant and Andy Patterson were authentically dressed as two
more buckaroos who looked like they just parked their ponies in
the barn to come in from the rain. Everyone was there waiting for
them to discuss any final plans. After welcome greetings and while
drinking another cup of coffee, Admiral Art called for everyone's
attention. “If it's alright with you men, we'd like to send two
more men along with your advance Away-Team,” he said.
Bart looked at his General and Hank nodded his approval. Admiral
Art got another big grin on his face but somehow it warmed his
heart to see Bart's devotion and dedication to his Master/General.
"We have no problem with it. It will balance us out. Don't tell
me! Lemme' guess! You want 'Tiny' and his mate to go along wiff'
us,” Bart replied looking at the largest member of the Seal team
and his mate. Bart grinned.
“Them men are fearless. Tiny is as strong as an ox, and his mate,
Mouse, is fast as quick-silver,” Admiral Art praised his men.
“And Tiny's the only other Seal dressed like a buckaroo what looks
like a double for Hoss Cartright and his partner, what looks like
Little Joe,” Bart said and laughed. He got a laugh from the rest
of the men including 'Tiny.'
“What's your real name, Son?” General Halfablap asked the big
cowboy.
“Tiny Bull Dozer, sir. My last name is Dozer. I's born on a big
ranch in Alpine, Texas. My daddy called me his Tiny Bull and
that's what they named me. Everybody calls me 'Tiny,' sir, and
'Little Joe' here, we call 'Mouse,'” the huge man replied.
“And your mate's name is really 'Little Joe'?” Bart asked with a
blank look on his face.
“Yes, sir, it's the name on his burf'-certificate. I done seen it
wiff' ma' own eyes, Major Bart,” Tiny assured him.
Bart double-over with laughter and the rest of the men laughed
with and at him. After Bart and his crew got themselves together,
he graciously apologized to the big cowboy.
“'At's all right, Major Bart, we get that reaction a lot. Most
folks think we's lying to 'em,” Tiny said shyly.
“I can empathize with you men, Son. My folks named me Latham
Augerance Bartholomew Langstron. When I tell people my complete
name and add my husband's name is 'Halfablap' they react much the
same. Tell me about yourself, Son. What's your purpose? What made
you want to volunteer to join our away-team? What's your greatest
dream, Tiny?” Bart asked the big man to feel him out and get to
know him a little better.
“I got me a terrible hunger in my gut to learn how to morph like
you done yesterday for my husband 'Mouse' here next to me. I's
afraid he's gonna' wear out my old asshole, and Little Joe, he
won't love me no more,” Tiny said, motioning to the smallest Seal
Team member next to him. The big man grinned real big and blushed
like a school boy from his honest revelation.
A few men laughed, but Bart didn't. “You and Little Joe help us
pull-off this mission, Chief, and guaran-damn-tee-ya, I will
personally see to it your wish is granted, sir. You certainly got
chore'self a shit-load of my respect, Young Man! he added
sincerely and got a rousing cheer from the rest of the gathered
men. “Here's your dog whistle, Brother Tiny, and here's yours,
Brother Mouse! Welcome to the team, Gentlemen!” Bart said firmly,
handed the men their whistles, and shook their hands in the proper
order – Little Joe's first, then Tiny's. The men got a big round
of applause. “I only got a couple of these Lizard pricks left, but
they's small enough to carry – just in case. Like Billy the Kid, I
been know'd to blow-away two at a time,” Bart said mischievously
and leveled the men laughing at his nonsensical double entendre.
“Has any thought been given to the Lizard's automobiles?” Admiral
Art asked.
“We ran up against that problem with them other false NSA men. We
stripped any tracking devices, license plates, removed the engine
numbers, and placed them in another dimension like we do when we
store and gather our wings. We can d-louse them death-wagons of
tracking devices, open a large gate, and drive them through for
you and your men's use if you like, sir,” Bart said like a
seasoned warrior.
“Excellent! I'm sure we can put them to good use,” General Art
approved.
“We better get going. Anything else you or your men care to
discuss, Admiral?” Bart asked.
“The minute we see a gate spring up here, we send in the second
team with manacles and chains?” the Admiral asked like he was
double checking what was already decided between them.
“Yes, sir, and depending on traffic, we may open a second gate for
evacuating everything from the place,” Bart replied.
“God speed, Men!” Admiral Art said wishing them the best.
“Hosanna!” Tiny's husband, Mouse, shouted remembering the previous
day.
“Hosanna, in the highest!” the other men echoed.
* * * * * * *
Bart opened a gate to his husband's condo in Houston. The
Magnificent Seven Warriors, as Bart named his Away-Team,
accompanied by Brigadier General Halfablap and Major Langstrom
walked through, and the gate disappeared. They wasted no time
getting into the General's SUV. It was tight fit with the two
giant economy-size cowboys, but they managed. The General pulled
up a couple of blocks away and cut his engine. He would sit there,
watch, and wait until he got a tickle from Bart. It was pouring
down rain and visibility was poor; however, on the upside, it also
provided more cover for the men. They didn't run but quick-stepped
their way to the office door and noticed there was four black
Cadillac SUVs parked in the lot next to the office up against the
outside wall of the building. They assumed the four Lizards
reported to work.
The Magnificent Seven walked in the door cursing the rain and
making small talk with each other like cowboys do. They wanted to
give an impression as being a well-met, affable group of homeless
and hapless cowboys down on their luck and hungry for employment.
They were a little taken aback when they saw two older cowboys
were already sitting there with clip-boards in their laps filling
out applications for a job. Bart nodded to them and smiled.
“You men here to apply for a position?” the tall, well-build man
behind the counter asked in a no nonsense business tone of voice.
“Yes, sir,” Bart replied meekly and the rest agreed. He handed
each man his own clip board and application form, told them to sit
down, fill it out, and let him know when they were finished.
Instead of returning to his desk, the man behind the counter
turned and walked to the back room to continue a conversation with
three other men leaving no one in the front office.
Bart sat down next to the two older cowboys and stuck out his
hand. “Howdy, Gentlemen! My name's Bart Langstrom and these other
men are my extended family, related to me either by blood or
marriage. Them twins is my little brothers, but them other four
are married to our sisters,” Bart lied but then he rationalized,
if he considered the Seal Platoon as a 'Sister' organization his
explanation wasn't a total lie – just convoluted truth to fit the
occasion. After all, he told himself, 'Cowboy's don't never lie;
however, they just might stretch the truth bit to suit their
purpose.
“Glad to meet you, Mr. Langstrom,” the one next to him said as he
shook Bart's hand, “I'm Deckard Ambidextrous Murdock and this fine
looking cowboy next to me is my saddle partner Apollon Coreless
Finch. We's known as Deck and Apple,” Deck said like a gentleman.
Bart picked up on the 'saddle partner' comment as a part of the
Code of the West. A 'saddle partner' is usually a cowboy's bonded
mate for life, but not always. Somehow, he just knew it was the
former and not the latter with these fine looking mature
buckaroos. His wee small voice in his head told him not to ask
about their middle names.
“Just call me, Bart, Gentlemen. Good to hear you men believe and
practice the Code of the West and honor the Cowboy Way, Mr.
Murdock,” Bart said sending his own message of brotherhood,
respect, and understanding. Both the old cowboys smiled and nodded
their heads. “You men from the Houston area, sir?” Bart asked.
“Naw, Son, we traveled from the Woodland area of East Central
Texas. You men from around these parts?” Apple asked.
“No, sir, we traveled all the way from the heart of the Hill
Country. I got me two extended family members what live on a ranch
in the Woodlands. You know Tank Barger and Tree Griffin, two old
warriors?” Bart asked and the men's eyes lit up like a one arm
bandit what hit the jackpot.
“Oh, Hell yes! We's good friends with them men. We even know
Tree's younger brother, Griff, his wife, Doris, and their boy,
Tommy, what lives in Hearn, Texas. Tank's sister-in-law cooks the
best damn Derby pies,” Deck said and smiled real big. “We used to
see a lot of them, but lately they's been traveling to the Hill
Country to spend time with the Daniels Family what puts on them
concerts everybody's been raving about. They claim the Daniels
family healed their boy, Tommy, and brought him around right. We
ain't seen them much lately. They's too busy with them Daniels
folks to be bothered by us old cowboys. We come here because we's
down on our luck, come to the end of our rope, and need a job bad
to keep us afloat. We's too proud, ashamed, and downright stubborn
to ask any of our friends for help,” Deck lamented.
Bart lowered his voice to a whisper. “We's part of the Daniels
family, sir. We's here on a military mission to smoke out these
men as Lizard aliens. I know'd it sounds bat-shit crazy, but I
ain't got time to explain and tell you all the details, so keep it
to yore'self for now. Them bastards can't stay morphed as humans
if they's around ultra-sonic sounds. Here, put these silent dog
whistles in your pockets. Give one to your partner. The sound they
produce is way above our hearing, but it's fatal to them bastards.
If the going gets rough, them tiny, little whistles just might
save your lives. Wiff' all respect for you gentlemen, Cowboy to
cowboy, brother to brother, if'n some'um goes down in here in a
few minutes, follow my lead and do exactly as I say. You got ma'
word as a fellow buckaroo we'll explain everything later,” Bart
said and turned his attention to his mission. << Report
Captain Lem? >> he tickled his little brother.
<< Ain't no doubt about it, Major Bart, them men be Lizards
all right, but one is missing. Judging from the ultra-violet light
coming from beneath the closed door to that other office, I can
only imagine he's in there recharging and touching-up his
human-morph under one of their infernal machines, sir, >>
Lem reported.
“We need to get into that room to make sure the fourth horseman is
in there,” Bart spoke just loud enough Dirk overheard him.
“Gotcha' covered, Major!” Dirk said quietly. “Damn! I gotta' piss
like a racehorse!” he said loudly, and pinched Tiny on his butt as
he got up and headed for the closed door. The huge man got his
buddy's message.
“Y'ain't the only one, Brother! Damn! I gotta' piss bad! Lead the
way!' Tiny said rubbing his butt as he jumped up to follow. Mouse
and Andy just grinned at each other.
Dirk tried the door, but it was locked.
“No! No! That isn't a restroom!” the Lizard clerk behind the
counter yelled to the two cowboys as he came running from the back
room, but he was too late.
“Here, lemme' give you a hand with that, Little Brother,” Tiny
said and put his full weight against the door. The massive man
ripped it off its hinges, and it fell to the floor. Sure enough,
Lem was right. Inside was a half-Lizard, half-man lying under some
contraption emitting ultra-violet rays with dark goggles strapped
over his eyes. He sat up, turned, jumped up off the bench, and
snarled at the two men standing in the doorway threatening them
with his full green mouth with sharp teeth.
“Time to blow-up our trumpets you sons of Joshua! Let's bring down
these infidels walls!” Yelled Bart, and the Magnificent Seven
Warriors of the away-team whipped out their silent dog whistles
and began to blow. The four Lizards started yelling and screaming,
running around in circles, bumping into the furniture and each
other, hitting the floor on their knees, and hollering for the
cowboys to stop. They were losing their morph and obviously in
great pain. You could definitely tell underneath their human
persona dwelt another more sinister creature.
The two older cowboys stood in awe watching what was going on.
They were stunned for a few seconds until Apple Coreless Finch
elbowed his partner. “Hell fire, Deck! Them men weren't kidding.
I'm convinced, Brother, they's part of the Daniels posse. They's
brothers. 'Member us watch'n that video Mr. Daniels shared on TV
about them Alien Green Lizard? Nobody believed him. We's in a nest
of them critters. 'At young man was right! Whip out that whistle
he give us and blow like your life depends on it! That young
cowboy didn't lie to us! They jes' might save our lives,” Apple
said firmly, and his partner quickly followed his lead. It was a
good thing. The two older cowboys made the difference between
success and failure of the away-mission.
Bart said a few words of thanks to the ethos to whomever or
whatever might be listening. He realized his Magnificent Seven
Away-Team didn't have enough ultra-sonic penetration to knockout
the four Lizards. He underestimated his foe, but someone was
looking out for them. Bart and his men would have a devil of a
time trying to subdue them Lizard critters without killing them
outright. As it was, with Deck and Apple's help, they managed to
cold-cock the four of them, but it didn't kill them. They were
still, very much, alive. With a goodly portion of serendipity and
a little luck, the away-team managed to accomplish their part of
the mission with no casualties.
Bart took a deep breath and spoke to the two old cowboys in a
relieved tone of voice, “Thanks, Brothers, for following them
voices of the Ancients and getting out on this nasty, rainy day to
look for a job. Damn glad you did! You unwittingly saved our
bacon. I got me some serious doubts about how this mission might
have gone down without your help. We would have a rough time
wrestling them damnable critters to the mat to subdue them. Don't
be alarmed or discouraged. Your future begins right now at this
very moment. Your heroism will not go unrewarded, I promise you.
Bart continued, “I'll do everything in my power to make damn sure
you men get fine jobs suitable to your talents what will pay you a
goodly wage so's you can live more comfortably and healthier,”
Bart said and smiled. He winked at the two cowboys, turned, opened
a large portal from the Cowhouse Seal Facility into the office,
and the second Seal Military Team immediately came pouring through
the gate with chains and metal collars to fit around the Lizard's
necks, arms, and legs. Deck and Apple's mouths dropped open as
they watched members of the Seal Platoon and Master Billy's
Cowboy-Angel-Warriors and their Watcher-Protector husbands secure
the four Lizards, lifted them onto anti-gravity gurneys, and took
them back through the gate. They were removed before they got a
chance to recover and regain consciousness.
Stage three started with more Seals, Master Billy's Warriors and
Watchers arriving with huge anti-gravity truck platforms and
started loading them. Bart and his team did a thorough check to
see if there were any electronic tracing or exploding devices,
then they made a clean sweep of the place. Nothing was left behind
– not even the small sign in the window. They did the same with
the four vehicles parked outside, relieved them Lizard critters of
their car keys, and drove the automobiles through a large gate
Bart opened in the parking lot. It took them less than an hour to
clean out the place and sanitized it so they wouldn't leave any
trace of themselves. Bart even fixed the locked door Tiny
demolished.
“We didn't see no vehicles outside other than them Lizard's Lemos.
How did you men get here?” Bart asked the older cowboys.
“We took buses from the Greyhound Station, and walked damn near
two and a half miles to get here, sir,” Apple explained.
“Well you won't have to use public transportation no more. You're
with me and my family now,” Bart told the two old cowboys. He
turned his attention to his Magnificent Seven Away-Team, “You Seal
men, and Master Billy's Platoon return to the Cowhouse Facility
through the gate before I close it down. We'll be along directly.
We need to return my Master's vehicle to his Condo, then we'll
gate back to your facility as soon as possible. Roy, you and Lem
are with me and our new brothers. I informed Brigadier General
Halfablap our mission is complete, and he's waiting outside the
door. We'll take Mister Murdock and Mr. Finch with us, but later
we'll see to it they get settled and are comfortable. When's the
last time you men ate?” Bart asked the cowboys.
They looked at each other, bowed, and shook their heads like they
were too ashamed to tell Bart. “Never mind, we'll make filling
your stomachs with some good food our number one priority, and
then after a quick trip to a Seal Team Facility at Fort Hood, you
will become our guests on our ranch until this whole thing blows
over. We ain't totally out of the woods yet, but we'll explain as
we go along. We'll contact Tank Barger and Tree Griffin for them
to come and be with you men to explain who and what we're about,
but in the meantime, I hope you men don't mind tagging along with
us for a spell. I promise you won't be bored,” Bart said and
smiled.
“We'll follow you anywhere, Son. We look upon you as our Guarding
Angel. You saved us from them monsters. You earned our trust,”
Deckard Murdock replied.
“Why, thank you, sir. That's about the nicest compliment I got in
a while. I can assure you, it certainly is appreciated, but ya'
ain't even seen my wings yet,” Bart said with sincerity and
laughed. Naturally, the cowboys thought Bart was joking about
wings.
* * * * * * *
General Hank drove his Family-Posse and the two older cowboys back
to his condo. Deck and Apple were naturally curious about who was
related to whom and how, but they were totally unprepared for
Bart's explanation. “Brigadier General Halfablap of the Marine
Corps is my husband and master. I'm a Major in the Corps and the
twins are the sons of the current Pro-Tem Chief of Staff, Four
Star General Royce Boynton. The one on your left is Captain Royce
Boynton Junior, and the one on your right is Captain Lem. Lem was
adopted into the Boynton family about a week ago under rather
miraculous circumstances which will be revealed to you men later.
Believe it or not, Captain Lem is only ten Earth years old, but
he's morphed to look like the twin of his big brother for our
current mission. He's one of a few of us who can see the auras of
them alien critters and can warn us if they're really human or
morphed Lizards. That's why we brought him along on this mission
with us, plus he has some other gifts I won't go into right now
what makes him a desirable and worthy team-mate.
Captain Lem's full name is Emanuel Bartholomew Boynton. I gave him
permission to take-on one of my given names for his middle name.
I'm very proud and pleased for him to carry my name. He is the
only surviving member of an ancient race of humanoids who evolved
on Earth untold centuries before us Homo sapiens were a mere
twinkle in some God's eye. He was fast-frozen in an ancient Ice
Age and was only able to contact us when his ice flow began to
melt and break up.
“Master Billy and another sterling entity conjoined their talents
to rescue him from his plight. There was very little left of him,
but between them and General Boynton, they managed to save him and
refurbish his body to become a member of our family. We have him
to thank for giving us the information them Lizards critters might
be vulnerable to high frequency sounds. As you witnessed, it
pretty much scrambled their ability to hold their morph and caused
them extreme discomfort bordering on pain,” Bart gave a rushed
explanation.
“Then some of you men live openly as saddle buddies?” Apple asked
rather shyly.
General Halfablap's posse laughed but not mockingly. “Since Lem is
too young and has yet to go through the throes of puberty, he will
neither know nor understand his druthers until he rides that
bronco from the Conundrum Ranch for his'self. The rest of us live
openly. Brother Roy gave his'self to me for saving his life in the
Middle East, and he's become my slave; however, I am also the
slave of General Hank, here, next to me, and I have my
responsibilities to him. Our family has recently hired a fine
Training-master to work with my slave to teach Roy how to become a
good slave and partner for an equally good master. Perhaps, one
day in the near future, a strong, dominant but understanding and
humanistic master will come along who will find my slave to his
liking; and, if my slave is as equally taken with him, we might be
able to reach an agreement and arrange a more perfect union,” Bart
turned his attention to his master. “Our new buckaroo buddies are
running on fumes, Master Gus. It's close to noon, and we ain't had
us nothing to eat since early this morning,” Bart said.
“We're expected back to the Cowhouse Seal Facility as soon as we
dock the SUV. They invited us for lunch, but I don't know if the
invitation includes civilians, Son,” the General Hank replied.
“They better! If'n it t'weren't for them cowboys and their quick
thinking, we might not be with you right now. It's my fault. I
grossly misjudged them critters tolerance for our whistles. I told
them we might take them along with us today to make sure they's
well taken care of until we can refurbish them and find them a
good home. If it means me gating them back to the Hill Country
alone while you men gate to the Cowhouse, so be it. We owe these
men, and with my Master's consent, I plan to see they's included
into our family if'n I gotta' adopt them myself,” Bart said firmly
without disrespect to his master.
“I agree, Son. Ya' ain't gonna' get no argument from me, Major.
Here, take my cell phone and punch 'Ad Art.' Won't hurt none to
ask, Son. Besides, it will be the mannerly thing to do,” the
General replied.
Bart pushed the button for Admiral Art, and he answered. “Howdy,
Admiral Art, this here's Major Bart calling to ask if we might
bring our two civilian brothers along with us? They ain't had a
meal in a good while, sir, and for their heroism under unusual
stress, I promised them it would be my first priority. I can't
tell you why over the phone, but I done got me a deep need to
mother-hen them two buckaroos; however, I don't wanna' break no
eggs in the the nest neither,” Bart respectfully explained his
conundrum. He heard the Admiral laugh.
“Sure, bring 'em on, Major! I already heard about their heroic
part in helping our Away-Team. Listen, Son, the way things are
going right now, and after yesterday's revelation to me and my men
to bring us on board for whats to come, it would be downright
unneighborly not to show them men the respect they're due;
besides, we still need as much info as you and your family can
provide us about the care and handling of them Bipedal Alligators,
and if we're to house them gray critters, we need considerably
more information. Where can we get that kind of information if it
ain't from you and your family's experience?
“To be gut-level honest, we need each other right now, so let's us
throw-out time-consuming and clumsy protocol and make this
got-damn thing work for bow'fus. Master Billy offered our whole
platoon to come work for his family, and I gotta' be honest with
you, Son, our family is seriously contemplating accepting his
generous offer. So gate on over here as fast as you can and join
the rest of your family. Our Platoon is hosting everyone involved
with our mission today,” Admiral Art said.
“See you soon, Admiral,” Billy said, thanked him for his
understanding, and disconnected.
“Well, I guess we's on for lunch,” Bart said and everyone
cheered.
* * * * * * *
The men returned to General Halfablap's Condo and disembarked in
his double car garage so no one got any wetter. Hank and Bart
agreed there wasn't any need to go inside if everyone was ready to
gate to the Seal's Cowhouse Facility; however, Lem wanted to run
into the Condo so he could morph to his regular size, take a leak,
and change into his smaller cowboy clothes. Bart told Roy to
follow Lem and help his brother. The other men stood and talked
while waiting for the young boy and his big brother. The new men
expressed their awe and wonder at the unusual powers these men
seem to possess. They were more than a little impressed the men
from the Daniels family moved from place to place through gates
which would transport them hundreds of miles in the blink of an
eye. When Lem and Roy returned, Bart opened a gate into the great
gathering hall at the Navy Seal Facility on Cowhouse Creek at Fort
Hood and the men walked through.
They no sooner walked through the gate when the gathered Seal Team
men, Master Billy's Platoon, their guests, and their leader,
Admiral Art started applauding, whistling, stomping their boots,
and causing general mayhem in admiration for Major Bart and his
men including the two older cowboys. Bart's men were somewhat
taken aback but were pleased by their action of approval. Bart was
doubly surprised to see Master Billy, Captain Nick, Boomer, and
two of Master Billy's right-hand men, Tank Barger and Tree Griffin
standing and applauding with them. Bart shot a questioning look at
his Master how they could have contacted the old cowboy's friends
so quickly.
“Ya' ain't the only one what's learned to use his tools, Son. With
Seth's help, several of your family were watching over you men
during the time you were in them Lizard's offices. Old Seth and me
decided it would be a right-nice thing to notify Master Billy and
ask him to round up their two old cowboy buddies. Billy was way
ahead of us. He was watching, too, and tickled them cowboys to
drop what they's doing, two of their cowboy brothers needed their
love and encouragement,” General Hank explained.
Apple and Deck were amazed and deeply moved to find their old
friends waiting for them, and as the men shook hands and gave each
other brotherly hugs and kisses there were more than a few tears
shed at the Cowhouse Facility. The older cowboys almost didn't
recognize Tank and Tree because they were so much younger looking
than they remembered. They looked in the prime of their lives and
acted like they were over abundant with health and strength
enjoying a great amount of pleasure in their maturity.
Tank and Tree promised to tell their buddies everything and gently
reprimanded them for not contacting them when they found
themselves in a bind. Apple explained they couldn't pay their
phone bill and Verizon cut them off. Their old truck went out on
them, and they lost their only transportation. A local mechanic
came out to look at it and told them it would take more money to
fix it than they would have to spend for a decent used truck. They
sold it to the local junk yard and lived on that small amount of
money until they heard about the NSA in Houston hiring ordinary
men to work for them as agents.
Tank and Tree felt awful for their buddies and vowed they would
see to it they got another, better start in life. “There, but for
the grace of them Ancients and the Daniels family, go you and me,
Brother,” Tank told his mate.
“Amen, to that, Brother, we were headed in a downward spiral just
like them,” Tree replied with sincerity.
Another bright flash of light foretold the arrival of more people
through another gate and everyone was surprised and delighted
General Royce Boynton and his posse of fellow Joint Chief's of
Staff arrived and several of their staffs to have lunch with
Admiral Art Armitage and his Platoon. They heard the mission was a
success and didn't want to be left out of the loop. Everyone was
glad to see them and the two older cowboys were once again
flabbergasted. Bart explained to the old cowboys, the men gathered
were the most important Military men in the nation, and now they
were aware, they were keeping close watch on the developing alien
situation.
* * * * * * *
Military food has never been anything to brag about, but it was a
well known consensus to the rest of the Armed Services, the Navy
served the best food. It was especially true within the Elite
Corps like the Navy Seals and the Marine Raiders. They got only
the best, and it was prepared by the finest military chefs and
their apprentice staff. Admiral Art's staff put out one of the
finest meals usually only found in the top echelon of Military
Brass. It was served family style and no one went away hungry.
Apple and Deck ate hardily and were highly impressed by the
quality and quantity of the food. After their third helping of
dessert, needless to say, they didn't leave the table hungry.
After lunch, everyone moved to the main part of the great hall of
the building and Admiral Art turned the floor over to Major
Langstrom to give a report of the Away-Team's morning. Bart got up
and grinned mischievously. He was a master at knowing what he
could get away with and still maintain dignity and decorum in
relationship to his higher ranking officers. He paused for a
moment and looked out over his audience, scrunched up his nose,
grimaced, and spoke. “How many of you men really want to hear a
boring speech about the Magnificent Seven's raid on them snakes
this morning? Don't be shy!” he said. Only a few hands went up,
mostly from the big brass. The enlisted men, not so much. “I
didn't think so. Why read the book when you can watch the movie?
Right?” Bart raised his voice, made a fist and raised it high,
“Hosanna!” he shouted.
The entire room replied, “Hosanna, in the highest!” They knew
whatever Major Langstrom had in mind, it would be entertaining.
“Seth, Dear Friend, have you and them twelve, small, but
brilliant, Tomb Guards for them Fallen Angels put together a video
of this morning's Away-Mission at them Dreaded Snake's Den of
false NSA offices?” Bart asked loudly so everyone could hear his
communication.
“We have, Major Langstrom, and I must say our little brothers
outdid themselves; however, I must warn you the video's content is
rather raw and disgusting at moments, but Aunt Helen's children
rightfully reasoned the dialogue of the Lizard's purpose, and the
contemptible way they look upon humans is staggeringly disturbing.
It was a general consensus those clips should definitely be
included, in keeping with the horrible memory several of our
children live with every day,” Seth replied.
“Excellent point, sir! Do you have enough information about them
Grays and Lizards, you might share it with several members of
Major Art's Platoon while sitting under your 'Cloud Chambers'?
Bart asked.
“You only have to ask, Master Bart. I have already taken the
liberty to ask Captain Nick and Master Billy's consent to work
with them, and they agreed,” Seth replied.
“What about bringing a couple of refurbished, enhanced, mature
cowboys up to speed and gifting them with the knowledge they'll
need to survive in the near future?” Bart asked, setting up
pathways.
“Educating mature cowboys is my specialty, Master Bart. You're one
of my prize pupils, Son,” Seth said and got a chuckle from his
audience.
“Thank you, Seth. You're a kind and gracious tutor to have such
patience to teach someone so limited and 'green' as I was when I
first came to you. I'm sure you will find it an easier job when
you do the same for these men,” Bart said sincerely. “Now, if you
would show us what them sons of Aunt Helen's put together, we will
be most grateful,” Bart said.
“My pleasure, sir,” Seth said and a three dimensional holographic
video of the morning raid by the Magnificent Seven on the Snake's
Den began to play. The audience was dumb founded by what they saw
and heard. Everything was so clear and lifelike it was like you
could walk up to the men and touch them. They heard the low
voiced, poignant conversation between Major Bart and the two older
cowboys clearly, only to be followed by the three lizards in the
back office who were unaware of the invisible video cameras
assigned to the Seal Away-Team recording their every word.
“What do you think about our latest prospects for another
investigation team?” the Office Manager asked.
“A couple might be chosen as agents. The spokesman for the second
group, the most handsome of the lot as humans go, has a spark of
brilliance about him which we could work with and easily mold. I
can tell the type. We can easily bend his mind to create one of
our mentally stronger dogmatic soldiers; and, perhaps the smaller
of the two larger men will join him. They seem to have a
comfortable understanding between them. The rest will fill our
food larders nicely and provide us with human meat for a good
while. We've been running low on live food. The two older one's
probably will be tough and chewy, but you never know. Sometimes,
you find one which is quite flavorful. The huge one we can save
for a banquet when our overlords visit. He looks like the human
equivalent of a Christmas turkey. You know how picky the overseers
can be and how they like a challenge to slaughter the bigger ones.
He looks like he's just ripe for the picking and will put up a
good fight before we slaughter him,” the Lizard from the front
desk voiced his opinion to his superiors in the back room in a
bored, matter-of-fact, voice.
Neither a sound nor a comment came from Bart's fellow military
men. It seemed like everyone was holding their breath so they
wouldn't miss a word. Needless to say they never before saw or
heard anything so dreadfully frightening or disgusting at the the
same time; fortunately, it was a short scene when the video turned
back to Bart softly telling Captain Lem it was necessary they get
into the other closed room to insure they were about to capture
the quartet of them nasty Lizards. From that moment on there came
cheers and encouragement from the audience as they watched Dirk
Evant jump up and head for the door with Tiny Dozer following
close behind. When the men demolished the door, a couple of their
cameras moved ahead to get a good video of the Lizard trying to
correct his morph from his reptilian-state to human. Then, all
Hell broke loose.
The camera captured the six cowboys whipping out their silent
ultra-sonic dog whistles and blowing them like Joshua's men were
commanded to blow their trumpets to bring down the walls of
Jericho. They watched the Lizards loosing their ability to hold
their morph and the video caught their conundrum of flashing back
and forth unable to hold onto their human personas and being
forced back into their Lizard forms. Then, the video picked up
Apple's words to his saddle buddy, and they made a split decision
to help their cowboy brothers. The audience went crazy applauding
the two old cowboy like they were the posse out of an old Republic
Western movie what arrived just in the nick-of-time with their
guns a' blazing to save the ranch from the bad land-baron hombre
for old Roy, Dale, and Gabby.
The Away-Mission wasn't a long piece of video, but it caused a
great bonding effect between Admiral Art's Seal Platoon, Master
Billy's Cowboy-Angel-Warriors, Watcher-Protectors Platoon, and the
other higher ranking military men. There was neither a soupçon of
doubt nor a niggling suspicion there might be a greater,
self-serving, manipulative plot on the Cowboy-Angels' part. They
were thoroughly convinced, rather than fighting unnecessary wars
and sending the military to countries whose current governments
failed to get in line with the Corporate Powers, the government
should be taking care of the invasion on their own soil and leave
the rest of the world alone to become free agents.
Some saw it as a possible opportunity to unite all the nations
against a common foe. However, there was one precious fact they
left out of the equation. The Corporate Powers sold their souls to
the Lizards and the Grays many years before and severing those
arteries might cause the death of the Union. It would certainly
cause major investigations into the secretive and underhanded
dealing of the major corporations. Others thought it just might be
the means to bringing down the Solid State of the Status Quo with
a chance of creating a new world with a highly regulated corporate
class. A wealthy corporate crook can make a greedy business
decision in his and his company's favor, and even though the
consequence of his decision will ruin the lives of millions of
American people, the odds are, he will never be arrested, let
alone prosecuted. Even if he was arrested, and found guilty by a
jury of his peers, his chances of spending a day in jail or prison
is zero to none. However, the common man may spend up to ten years
in prison for having one ounce of pot found on his person;
especially, if he's a third time loser. Yet those most likely to
find themselves in such a situation still mouthed the meaningless,
empty words in the Pledge of Allegiance – with liberty and justice
for all?
The video continued from the final smack-down of the alien
bastards by the Magnificent Seven. It showed how efficient and
swift the mixed removal team were, and how expertly they subdued
and incarcerated them in a separate building in the Cowhouse Seal
Special Forces compound. The men cheered for their Seal brothers
as well at Master Billy's Platoon. Everyone was amazed how quickly
the men checked the furniture and automobiles for explosive
devices and found none. Someone commented them bastards were
certainly sure of themselves. The last part of the video showed
the removal of every shred of evidence, and that included all
furnishings. Nothing was left but an empty office space. Admiral
Ben Armitage Senior issued an order for one of his most trusted
men on his staff to make an inquiry about the the offices. The
company listed as the owners of the Real Estate claimed the
building had not been rented in over three years.
* * * * * * *
After the video finished, Bart stood up to speak again. “In
keeping with a conversation I shared earlier with Admiral Art, he
urged our teams work together to achieve our mutual goals of
housing and holding both species of them alien critters. Since
we're already intertwined with each other as far as the higher
ranks are concerned, it only seems natural we follow their lead.
In private conversations with Master Billy, our platoon of
Cowboy-Angel-Warriors, Watcher-Protectors, and our own officers,
it has also been decided we will gladly share with you men most of
our advanced refurbishments of your personnel and provide you with
the knowledge how to best learn and use your new information and
talents.
“For now, it will only apply to those chosen by our superiors to
immediately receive such refurbishments and learning applications,
and that would include Lieutenant Dirk Evant and his mate, Chief
Petty Officer, Andrew Patterson; also, Seaman First Class, Tiny
Bull Dozer, and his husband, Chief Petty Officer, Othel Little Joe
Ross, better known as 'Mouse.' Two more couples will be considered
and recommended by your Admiral. Please notify Admiral Art if
you're interested, but we must warn you, you will be living as an
advanced human, or as Cowboy-Angels, with all the responsibilities
which comes with the honor,” Bart said.
“What about us men what ain't bonded, but we still watch each
other's backs like we's brothers?” one of the larger men asked.
“We ain't Elitist or recruiting agents for our lifestyle;
although, I will admit a large portion of our family were either
predisposed or finally found a greater meaning of life for
themselves. I don't think any man here will deny, love is where
you find it, and if it's comfortable for both, h'it don't
matter-none the sex what shares your bunk. On the other hand, to
use an old Navy term, we would certainly consider you and your
'mate,' as long as you have a strong commitment to look after each
other. Notify your Admiral if you're interested,” Bart explained,
then continued, “For an immediate education you will need to know
how to keep and deal with them Lizards and the Gray's as
prisoners. We will sit you under our highly keen
Cyber-intelligence, Seth, who will teach you what you need to know
about using your new talents and abilities in a much shorter time
than taking a long boring course in training school.
“Gees, how much shorter, Major? My attention span is considerably
shorter than my penis, and it ain't a strong comer. It wouldn't
win by a head in a caucus race,” one of the larger Seals asked and
everyone laughed.
“The equivalent of a graduate degree in Nuclear Physics in several
hours depending on your rate of absorption,” Bart said firmly
without nuance in his voice, “And I promise, you won't have to
whip out chore' cock and use it like a Slide Rule to crack the
hardest problems,” he added and the men laughed. “On the other
hand, simple things like morphing your body, making your wings
invisible, or learning to use your telepathic abilities can take
anywhere from an hour to a couple of e'nins, depending on your
ability to learn and concentrate. It took me two days before I was
comfortable about losing my wings by myself. Hell, if a dumb old
cowboy like me can learn to do it, I ain't got me know doubt, you
men can easily learn how,” Bart said heavy on the cowboy speak
underrating himself to build their confidence, and a cheer went up
around the room.
Poor Deck and Apple didn't have a clue. Bart could see it in their
eyes. “I must apologize to our new cowboys in our family. I hope
you men will forgive me,” Bart said as he took off his Western
shirt and morphed into his handsome Cowboy-Angel persona. “Don't
be afraid, Gentlemen, I'm only one of several hundred on our
planet now. I promise, we will take it slow. Because of your
heroism and your faith in your fellow man, if you find us worthy,
we will absorb you into our greater family and give you a pair of
beautiful wings, too,” Bart explained and then morphed back to his
human form. Some of the men humorously grumbled because Bart
disposed of his wings.
“Are you men here to confront the Devil and his works?” Deck
asked.
“Goodness no, Brother! We already done that this morning. Them
Alien Lizards is the Devils, their insect helpers is their little
brothers in universal crimes, but the real Devils is them what
knows about their existence who are working and cooperating with
them to either play a huge roll in our planet or to take over
completely. The Fallen Angel what got blamed for damn near
everything, Satan, Lucifer, or Samuel is standing right over there
next to Master Billy Daniels. We call him Captain Nick. He's one
of the greatest of the Fallen Angels, and took a bad rap from
early religions who didn't know the whole story and cooperated
with them Alien Lizards, but he ain't no monster from Hell. He can
morph into a Demon, but he only does it when he and Master Billy
are alone in their bunkhouse playing Demon Dad and Demon Son,”
Bart explained, “You mean to tell me, you and your mate ain't
never played Big Daddy, and his bad little boy?” Bart added and
got a round of laughter from the men. Deck and Apple grinned and
blushed a bright red color. The other men hooted and laughed at
their reaction.
General Boynton spoke up in Bart's defense, “You Cowboys have
nothing to fear from this group of men. If they hadn't done what
they did this morning, there's a very good chance you cowboys
might be in a cold locker this afternoon to await one of them
Lizard's feeding frenzy. We can show you men the video again which
Major Bart showed you yesterday of them Lizards eating one of
their smaller brothers – cannibalizing one of their own. I can
promise you, it ain't a pretty sight. It's downright disgusting
and will cause you to have terrible nightmares,” said General
Boynton and the rest of the men agreed with him and shook their
heads in disbelief.
The General continued, “Don't worry none about Man-Made Religions.
They're purposely slanted toward approval of totalitarianism
supported by an unsubstantiated tome supposedly handed down to
mankind from an invisible god. Where do you think the
divine-right-of-kings sprang from? If you really need a road-map
what tells you where to go, a way to live a fully satisfying life,
and how to be a good man, live your lives by the Code of the West
and the Cowboy Way. I guarantee you will find a much more
fulfilling means to embrace the brotherhood of man, experience a
great deal more peace and personal comfort; but the best part will
be, you won't be bothered by some pinched faced, misogynistic,
homo-hating, slant eyed holier-than-than-thou little bastard what
will yell at you about how you are the worst of sinners and bound
for the fires of Hell, then when they weaken your spirit, they'll
steal your hard earned money by selling you a big streaming pile
of insane nonsense,” the General added.
“Hear! Hear!” shouted a number of the Daniels family.
General Boynton continued, “While I totally approve of joining
forces with Master Billy's people and enhancing several of our
Seal Team Brothers for an emergency situation, I think we're
forgetting them Foxes in the hen house we rounded up this morning.
This facility ain't no Ramada Inn for aliens, nor will it ever be.
They ain't here for their comfort or an extended pleasure cruise.
You certainly couldn't call them respectable paying guests, who
should be shown a certain level of courtesy. Why, the police
departments in our major cities wouldn't put up with their crap in
a Cow-town minute. Them two legged Ally-gators would be made to
disappear over-night and them alien critters would be six feet
under stinking-up a crowded pit by morning. You men gotta' begin
to think on them as guests at a Roach Motel, where the guests
check-in, but they don't check-out,” the General said firmly and
got a strong round of agreements and applause from the men.
“Our original plan was to use them as a reality shock-bomb to drop
in the fat-laps of our present, bought and paid for government, to
wake-up them what ain't in the Inner-circle who knows about them
Green Monsters; however, with their honking and clamoring about
their dearly beloved missing Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of
Staff, General Shylock, and his two acrimonious ubiquitous
yard-dogs, I'm betting that dust up will be sooner than later with
them pseudo-elected bunch of Corporate Criminals we got in power
now. I'm expecting it will probably happen before this coming
weekend. Then, depending on our success, we will determine how
long we let them Lizard bastards live. I'd like nothing better
than to give a cathartic order to terminate the lot of them and
let Master Billy's decontamination team do their miracle of
deodorizing and tanning them Lizard's hides for making more
buckaroo boots, trucker wallets, or ladies handbags. I ain't
gonna' be no happy-faced member of our Joint Chiefs of Staff until
I can feel me a big-old heavy pair of them Lizard boots gracing my
feet!” the General said strongly and got another round of
laughter, cheers of agreement, and applause.
General Boynton continued, “I want to take action before some
clown with a bleeding heart larger than his low-count
reality-neurons in his brain, comes up with an insane message we
should show equal justice to our alien brothers. 'Alien Brothers'
is a textbook definition of an oxymoron. Ain't no such thing! None
of them bastards were born on this planet, they ain't got no
sentient relatives on this planet, and they don't belong here. I
want it understood from the very get-go of this operation, them
Lizards are a vicious, predatory race, and them smug little gray
pop'n-fresh-dough-boy drones are a slave race what does their
dirty work for them. There ain't no doubt in my mind them Lizards
plan to wipe out the human race or gain complete control over us
for their own nasty clandestine purposes. They're two insidious
and worthless races who don't belong on our planet. I insist,
outside of interrogating them, we show them no mercy. They will be
treated as they have treated us – with limited communication.
Those, whom we deem of no use to glean information from, must be
killed and stamped out like weeds in a corn row.
“Furthermore, I won't allow anyone to entertain the idea of
keeping them Green Bastards in a prison anywhere on our planet.
Besides, as packed as our prisons are, brought about from the
smallest infractions to appease and fill the coffers of them
private owners, there just ain't no room for them nohow. Besides,
putting them in with human prisoners would be like treating them
to a banquet with neither place settings nor condiments necessary.
While it might reduce the number of inmates in our overpopulated
prisons, I'm convinced there's a large population of innocent
people trapped in our prisons, put there by our government to
silence them. We have several among our family who we rescued from
situations I just described.
“There's a strong possibility others might be victims of trumped
up accusations, a speedy trial, quickly found guilty, then falsely
imprisoned to appease the equally monstrous conglomerates, because
someone dared to exercise their right to freedom of speech and
spoke out against the status quo; unfortunately, if any man found
himself in a prison with them vicious Lizard sons-of-bitches, they
would be eaten along with those less worthy members of our
species. Either way you consider the subject, it makes for a
gruesome mental image. Not even John Carpenter could make a movie
what would come close to capturing the horror of being eaten alive
by them revolting Lizard critters.
“We already have proof many prisoners who are placed in solitary
confinement rarely come out alive. Our intelligence reveals, they
are either sold to secret underground abattoirs, butchered,
packaged for human consumption, and their meat sold on the black
market; or, they are thrown into a Lizard pit where they will be
eaten alive. Prison deaths have risen to ten percent of their
population per month and climbing. Not one of them prisoner's
deaths has been challenged or investigated. Perhaps, we might
consider keeping several of the Lizard kind in a well guarded Zoo
as vicious and dangerous animals; however, they will not be
treated like sentient beings. They will be treated like any other
wild animal predators so our people can get a personal, up-close,
good strong gander at their revolting dining habits. I think one
seating might shake-up them bleeding heart liberals enough to
bring them in line with our consensus when they're faced with the
irrefutable message them bastards should not be welcomed into our
society under any circumstances.
“On a lighter note, I'm certain the Muppets on Sesame Street and
the late Mr. Rogers would have agreed, the image of them alien
bastards chasing down a helpless child, ripping it apart,
screaming in pain, and eating it while he or she is still alive,
would neither be a welcome addition to our society nor contribute
to a wonderful day in the neighborhood; Oscar the Grouch
notwithstanding.” The General said strongly. Royce Boynton was a
good motivational speaker and allowed time for his audience to
hear, consider his words, and imagine the scene. The gathered men
as rough Warriors as they were, shook their heads with disbelief,
and looked at one another with disgust in their eyes.
The General continued, “The day of reckoning has come. Dare I
speak my peace? Somebody's got to do it, or our way of life will
soon vanish from our home world. Our country has become one giant
ass-hole on our planet; mainly, because it's full of shit and
somebody's got to be strong enough to stand up to them Wall Street
Vampires, Corporate Ghouls, and them Political Religious Zombies,
who devoured the financial security of our once strong middle
class. Someone or group must firmly announce to them, laws real or
false notwithstanding, enough is enough! Metaphorically, those of
us who pick up swords to challenge for change and righteousness
for our system of government and hold them responsible, bend them
over, and proceed to give our world one Hell of a giant enema
before we righteously butt fuck them!
“It may be a messy job, we might have to hold our noses and look
the other way; however, in the name of some unknown god,
somebody's gotta' do it! I can't think of anyone better than our
military along with the help of some good neighbors who are much
more artfully advanced than those who insist on maintaining our
current shameful situation. For years them retched Corporate
Controllers have purposely implemented strident rules to stifle
new inventions and ideas. Why? New, less expensive, workable ideas
which could ultimately replace fossil fuels, threatens their
monopoly and weakens their strangle hold on the societies of our
planet to insure their status quo.
“They keep the major corporations fat and in power. We no longer
have elections nor political parties. Ever since that loudmouthed
lying Orange haired bastard was impeached from office, a new
government 'President' is appointed by the Supreme Court every
seven years who represents only a very few people in our country
-- the one percent. Something must be done, by and for our people,
if we are to survive as a nation. In short, to recreate a metaphor
from our past, it's time we resurrected and reevaluated them
got-damned, dirty Hippies from the sixties and seventies of our
past century who, for all their lack of political savvy, the unity
of their sheer numbers managed to create a powerful insurgence to
bring about an end to the war in Vietnam.
“They held few of the answers how to go about a solid rebellion,
if any other than communism or socialism, and they were out of the
question. They possessed neither the means, nor strong
organizational abilities to draw upon, to grab the wheel of
propaganda and attempt to drive our country down another road than
the one it was on. It's hard to do in a VW bus painted like a
rainbow. They had very little else other than the love of their
generation, their strength of unity, a strong motivation to make a
change through peaceful means, some damn fine weed, and their
image of what our country could become for everyone and not just
the few.
“Furthermore, a better organized insurrection might have continued
to steer our country in a strong leftward direction while creating
programs aimed at diminishing the power what fueled the oncoming
tsunami of the right-wing and Democrats disguised as Neo-liberals
who so generously gave us the unholy ruin of our country with a
trickle-down theory of economics and disastrous trade agreements
like NAFTA. Unfortunately, it's difficult to hold-on and keep
on-track with an important message when your brain is bouncing
around from a lid of wicked weed.
“Not unlike the fog they created in their minds, their message was
ultimately lost from the more pseudo-stable appearance of
big-brother-is-watching-you, corporate greed, and the trickle-down
theory of economics better known as a Ponzi scheme; but, worst of
all, other than 'Love One Another,' and 'Take a load off Fannie'
them hippies failed to create a working motto for their movement
to catch the imagination of the nation. The 'peace' sign looked
like a chicken's footprint and failed to gain universal approval.
“Together, with some radical new ideas and the physical power to
break the giant corporations strangle hold, if everything goes the
way we hope, we quite possibly will be handed a second chance. We
just might cause a crack in a very large door what's been closed
and locked for several decades which was originally put into place
to bring a greater unity to our country and world. Unfortunately,
it has done little or nothing for the common man and everything
for the top one percent. If we fuck up this opportunity, if we
ignore the possibilities it could provide, if we fail to take
immediate action, and let it pass us by without a solid bowel
movement on our part to rid ourselves of the cancer caused by
hoards of wealth held by the one percent on our planet, there's a
strong chance our species will be doomed.
“As Walt Kelly penned the words for his character Pogo, 'We have
seen the enemy, and he is us!' The genesis of our movement has
come down to a few strong words which are irrefutable: “The
hording of wealth by the one-percent of our country gained by
underhanded means of bribery, sweet-heart deals, blatant
machinations, unlawful manipulations, invasion of personal
privacy, uncontrolled secret agencies, and illegal information
gathering; all this, and a government of massive secrecy to back
it up, have become our worst enemies. Our mission will become
known as the great cleansing of our system to rid us of a demonic
power what seems to be growing stronger every day like a social
cancer. Our movement must become the strong laxative to expunge
them turds from a healthy social body, or what's left of it, with
a strong motto, 'National Enema Of Enemies Within' or simply
'Operation Flush!'” the General said strongly.
“While Belshazzar, an ancient monarch of Babylon, threw a feast
for a thousand of his one-percent of wealthy elite, and after the
King, his princes, his wives, and concubines drank from the sacred
vessels held holy by Belshazzar's Hebrew slaves, there came forth
fingers of a man's hand and wrote a message upon the wall, 'Mene,
Mene, Tekel, Upharsin' – which the Prophet Daniel explained to the
King meant: 'Thou art weighed in the balance, and found wanting!'”
General Heavy-Drop said softly to make an important point.
“Other than Major Langstrom, do any of you men know what happened
next?” the General asked and grinned at his right-hand warrior. No
one answered. He continued, “In that same night, was Balthazar the
King, slain, and his kingdom divided!” General Royce Boynton
exclaimed firmly like a tent revival circuit preacher on a hot
summer's evening in West Texas making a strong point during his
Hell-fire and damnation sermon. His words were well received, and
the men began a rousing round of whistles; rebel yells; stomping
of boots; many hollered 'Amen Brother' and 'Hosannas' by the
handfuls, along with a standing ovation of applause. Sir William
Walton would have been pleased by General Heavy-Drop's
performance.* Major Langstrom and General Halfablap were
particularly proud of their General. They were somewhat astounded
to witness their leader, whom they considered a gentle-man, as he
righteously mind-fucked his troops to implant fertile seeds he
hoped would create a spark of rebellion which would eventually
grow strong within his courageous, invincible young
warriors.
After everyone gathered themselves and quieted down from their
shared exuberance, the General allowed them their own thoughts for
a moment until it almost became a pregnant silence awaiting
delivery. Admiral Armitage, the younger, spoke up. “Correct me if
I'm wrong, sir. Perhaps I misunderstood your interesting and
colorful comments on our situation, but I could swear you were
talking about the possibility of taking over our government by
means of an insurrection, revolution, or a military coup,” he
said.
“No, on the contrary, you didn't misunderstand me at all. You're
correct, Admiral. My freedom of speech allows me to discuss the
possibility; however, planning and initiating such a venture,
depending upon the occasion, could be construed as treasonous by
those in the spotlight. I was definitely talking about exploring
the possibilities of a military overthrow of our government, if
and when the time seems appropriate, should a window of ultimate
opportunity opens and drops the responsibility into our laps; or,
to use a metaphor from olden days, perhaps the fingers of a man's
hand might appear from another dimension and write on the wall for
our nation to see an undeniable message: 'Ye Sons of Angels,
attend this message! Carpe Diem! (Meaning 'Seize The Day.') At
that point, I would definitely take charge of the situation. I
would start barking orders to everyone concerned, to grab them
controls of our Ship Of State; therefore, I need to know, beyond a
shadow of a doubt, if the men we have in this room will be men we
can trust to support us to gain the power to set things right and
help us work to make our country the great nation it should be – a
nation of peace, freedom, and an equal opportunity for everyone.
“It has been discussed among our Joint Chief's of Staff, and they
have pledged their oath to support us if the situation arises. We
beg you to consider, we ain't said nothing about no plans or
discussed anything solid as to how we might go about it. At this
point, I'm as much in the dark as any man here. I'm just
jaw-bust'n about possibilities which might occur when we lay our
cards on the table before them bastards in Washington, and call
their hand to show them we're aware of their clandestine and
unlawful shenanigans. It is my sincere belief we should discuss a
possible response to their reaction; especially, when we hold them
individually accountable for allowing Aliens into top positions
within our government in the name of representing the Armed Forces
and the American People.
“To be honest, I suspected foul play when they promoted Shylock
two ranks to become a higher rank, a five star General to have one
more star than the man who should have been next in line for
promotion to the job of Chairman of the Joint Chief's of Staff. I
certainly didn't have any idea I would be passed-over for a
got-damned alien bastard. A wee voice told me to suck up my pride
for the time being and not retire in protest, because for whatever
nefarious reason, it's what they hoped I might do. My protective
system strongly admonished me not to fight back, be civil, and go
along with the flow to see where it takes me. I noticed they were
a bit flummoxed when I rather passively agreed to their decision.
They wanted me out of the picture. Now we know why, Gentlemen, and
I don't plan to let them bastards off-the-hook with some weak-ass
explanation. There's got to be a strong reason for them to be so
underhanded and ruthless. If we take over and grab the government
by the tits, I won't rest until we uncover the truth. I'm almost
afraid of what we'll find.
“We shared our videos with you and your men. We've been honest and
upfront. There ain't no doubt in our minds, the shit will finally
hit the fan in our next meeting. We want to be prepared for any
contingency they might try to present or strings they might try to
pull on us to get us to dance to their tune. Admiral Art, since
you're the only Top Brass outside the Joint Chiefs of Staff who
ain't been introduced to the possibility, I find it necessary, not
as your superior officer, but as a friend and fellow warrior to
hear your thoughts on the matter. Our final question is, should it
happen, will you and your men join our impromptu revolution and
back us?” General Heavy-Drop asked.
There was an even stronger silence for a few minutes.
“As I understand the current situation, General, our government
has already declared war against their own military,” Admiral Art
said and a number of his men agreed. After everyone settled down
the Admiral continued, “No one in this room can deny the
powers-that-be were responsible for killing my father, unless you
men with your advanced technologies are masters at CGI and staged
the whole scene on the video you shared with us, but I have my
revived dad sitting next to me, looking healthier than he has in
twenty years, assuring me you men saved him and brought him back
to life with the extra added bonus of possibly living several
decades longer. He also tells me you have his faith and complete
trust. I think I know my dad and my Platoon well enough to know
they'd consider me a damn fool not to join you men and back you in
whatever transpires in our meeting on Friday. Is there a man among
you in my Platoon who would say otherwise?” Admiral Art put to his
men.
“You men heard the Admiral! Any gainsayers among our group?”
Seaman First Class, Tiny Bull Dozer barked loudly. There were no
gainsayers. “There you have it! As our ranking Platoon Leader,
please, sir, answer our Admiral for us as a family, Lieutenant
Evant!” Tiny urged his commanding officer.
“The men of your Platoon are in complete agreement, sir. We will
gladly support you, the General, our new Cowboy-Angel-Warrior
brothers, their Watcher-Protector mates, and their leaders,”
Lieutenant Dirk Evant responded. There went up another round of
applause and cheers from everyone in the meeting hall at the Seal
Facility on the Cowhouse Creek. The men knew they were one short
step away from becoming part of Master Billy's greater family who
could offer them a better life with more generous benefits.
Preaching austerity to the middle class and cutting into their
stability zone of living a somewhat comfortable life has its
consequences. The one percent could care less. Unfortunately, for
them, they were bringing about their own doom. The strong dam they
built to shore-up the mass holding of the status quo was beginning
to weaken and large cracks were beginning to leak profusely. It
was only a matter of time before the dam would burst, and the
Powers-that-be would begin to lose control.
* * * * * * *
With spirits high, the men decided to gate to the Daniels Ranch,
but they left behind the domestic teams of cooks, laundry men, and
emergency facility repair teams; including two fully armed Seal
Teams and two Teams of Master Billy's Cowboy-Angels and
Watcher-Protectors in case they were needed to subdue the four
Lizard prisoners. They discovered the Cowboy-Angel-Warrior's
swords would stun them for brief periods of time. Bart also left
them with the silent Dog Whistles just in case they needed them to
blow their brains out, but only if necessary. Another unique fact
they discovered, once they were forced to morph back to their
Lizard personas, they couldn't morph back to human shape unless
one of their morphing machines was available – a machine like the
away-team confiscated during their raid on the false NSA Office in
Houston.
Everyone was getting ready to gate over to the Daniels ranch and
the Platoon's refurbished mascots asked the Admiral if they could
come along. “I don't see why not, but it's always good manners to
ask our hosts,” Admiral Art replied, “Master Billy, may our
Watcher family, Bogart and Sonny, come along with us?” the Admiral
asked.
“Certainly, they's family. They were reborn on our ranch. We hope
Bogart and Sonny will come to consider the Daniels Ranch as their
second home,” Billy replied graciously.
“Woah! Wait just a minute!” Bart exclaimed, “Bogart and Sonny?” he
asked, “I thought the brown-sugar bear was called 'Stumpy'!” he
said looking confused.
“Yeah! Us six 'Magnificent' buckaroos are standing with
Magnificent Major Seven! Color us 'flummoxed'!” Lieutenant Evant
exclaimed. Everyone laughed at Dirk's words.
“We apologized. While you men were gone, the rest of us were
sitting here on pins and needles waiting, and it was like we were
viewing a dead body in a funeral home until someone commented
since Stumpy was refurbished, it didn't seem right to keep calling
him a name what would make him recall his past when life was hard
for him. So we threw the floor open for his family to come up with
another, more appropriate name for our Watcher Brother. Kenny
Needles said Stumpy's attitude and smile has been bright and
'sunny' since his refurbishment. Billy Bartles suggested since he
was Bogart's son they should combine the two ideas and call him
Sonny. Bogart approved and Stumpy got a new name. The rest is
history,” Admiral Art said and smiled.
* * * * * * *
Tank Barger and Tree Griffin metaphorically took their two old
cowboy buddies under their wings and escorted them through the
gate to the Daniels Ranch. Deck and Apple were impressed beyond
words. They came through in the dungeon on Captain Nick's ship and
the Castle was packed with people of all shapes, sizes, and
species, coming and going about their business. When the gate
opened and the Military men stepped through, everything came to a
halt to see who was coming into their world. For Admiral Art and
his men, it was like they easily stepped onto another world, and
so it was for the two older cowboys.
There were even more unusual sentient critters in the central
meeting place in the great hall as Billy's six Cat-men, the
McPhees, were away the previous evening gathering the rest of the
sixteen McPhees to complete a the full Platoon Billy requested
from his Uncle-in-laws. Of the ten new Cat-men, there were some
color variations. Two were pure white with bright blue eyes. Two
were Calico which Billy found most interesting, because calico
cats are usually female, but there was no doubt the tri-color
Cat-men were males. Billy wondered if Dr. McPhee tinkered with the
Dilute Calico genes to create such unusual but handsome male cats.
Two more were midnight black with piercing, yet haunting, golden
eyes. The rest were mixtures of darker and lighter shades of
silver and gray. Billy suspected the Good Doctor very probably
mixed in a heavy dollop of primate DNA into their genetic roux as
they were much more muscular and buffed than the average human,
and they were four times stronger; yet, unless threatened or in
protection mode, they rarely used their superior powers.
Other than their daily workout routines, the giant Cat-men were
never witnessed to overly insinuate themselves with anyone or
group unless they were invited. They found a new comfortable home
within the Daniels family and came to be loved and admired for
their work and dedication. The large buffed-out Cat-men bonded
easily and were a handsome lot to say the least. No matter their
classified species, which others in the universe considered as
less because they couldn't claim any prior history beyond their
artificial creation. Nevertheless, the members of Billy's new
Platoon, the Clan McPhee, were paragons of male pulchritude with
fastidious hygiene habits bordering on religious rituals.
The McPhees cleaned their own litter compounds, and disposed of
their waste in a designated portion of the 'outback' on Captain
Nick's ship suggested by the Captain's other Feline-men. They
became great friends and often hunted with Leo the Lion-man and
Pan, the Panther-man, along with Razza, the Dragon-man. Their
pedigree didn't matter to the people of the village who benefited
greatly from the big Cat-men's contributions of wild game. They
were brought into the heart of the growing village family and were
much appreciated for their talents and ability to easily meld into
the village's unique society.
* * * * * * *
Billy wasted no time gathering his family of Cowboy-Angels,
Watchers, and his Platoon of Cat-men to begin the healings and
transformations necessary to increase their lot and talents. It
was found the Cat-men were easily taught to control and store
extra energy from the ethos as well as the Watchers and could
easily regulate their flow into the mainstream as needed. Bogart
and Sonny stood with their Watcher Brothers and quickly learned to
maintain the charge and flow of the energy of healing and
regeneration. They not only felt whole again, but they were also
learning how to live a normal life and give back to the community
what so freely given to them.
Lieutenant Dirk Evant was the first Seal to lie under Master Billy
and his posse of Healers and refurbishing Cowboy-Angels.
Naturally, Billy gave the men options they might like and for the
most part tried to accommodate them. Dirk's mate wanted more cock,
longer, and more hefty for his master, and his circumcision
restored. Dirk grinned real big at his mate and agreed to his
druthers. Surprisingly to a few, Dirk wanted the same for his mate
Andy Peterson. After Billy and his team took care of a few other
minor health problems, they gave them the final enhancement which
would start their internal clock to bring about a great change in
their bodies which would culminate within eight to twelve hours
when their wings began to grow. It would take another eight to
twelve hours for them to grow to maturity and another eight hours
or so to teach them the basics of fledging and hiding their new
wings.
Next were Tiny Bull Dozer and his mate, Mouse, also known as Othel
Little Joe Ross. After watching Dirk and Andy get their foreskin,
the best part of their penis restored, they discussed it and
decided they wanted the same for each other. Billy was only too
happy to oblige them. Tiny asked Master Billy how long he must
wait to be able to morph his genitals like Bart?
“You will have to become completely mature with your enhancement
which will take anywhere from three days to a week or more –
depending on your ability to absorb the application. You will have
to sit under our ship's intelligence to learn the finer points;
then, you will need someone trained in the application to help you
morph the first several times. You need to make sure your tutor is
close by and easy to find should you get stuck in between. After
you morph several times, it will be like falling off a log to
morph a big-old warrior cunt or an nice tight small one for your
master's pleasure,” Billy said and grinned.
“I can't wait!” Tiny exclaimed and smiled.
“Just think of it as five days before Christmas and you know
what's in one package you got chore' heart set-on since you met
your husband,” Billy said and got a big laugh from his posse. Tiny
laughed the hardest.
“You plan to slam the back door shut on your master?” Billy asked
with a grin.
“Oh, no, sir, Master Billy. He can have all he wants – as much
from one as the other. I just wanna' be able to please him with
both,” Tiny replied and everyone was touched by the big man's
unqualified love for his mate. For such a large and potentially
brutally strong man, Tiny Dozer didn't seem to have a mean bone in
his body until it came to his Seal family and the defense of them
and his mate. With those things in mind, Tiny could become an
imposing warrior to protect them.
After Billy finished with Tiny's mate, Mouse, he sent the four men
off to the Cloud Chambers with Major Langstrom to introduce them
to Seth and start them learning what they needed to know about the
dangers of being jailers for the Lizards and Gray aliens. Seth
pulled no punches and couldn't express how dangerous and nasty the
aliens could be. He instructed them to spend two hours every
morning and two hours every afternoon in the chambers. If they
could spend another two hours in the early evening would bring
them up to speed within week or so. The men didn't seem to be
bothered by Seth's suggested schedule. It was a remarkably easy
way to learn and Seth took great pride in his tutorial abilities.
He tried to alter his information from deadly serious to some
lighter applications they might find useful.
Billy and his posse took one more bonded couple from the Seal
Team, Cleveland Bugler and Tyler Hobson, who were another rather
unabashed bonded couple. Cleve was the undisputed husband of the
couple, and their relationship was of a much deeper Master/Slave,
Sadomasochistic nature. Cleve insisted his slave wear a slave
chastity harness when they weren't on duty. They were big hits
with Master Billy's Cowboy-Angels and Watcher-Protectors, and the
masters would compare notes, exchange ideas, and offer suggestions
about what worked best for them and got the most sincere devotion
from their slaves. Since Tyler would be on the receiving end of
his master's cock, Cleve gave his slave permission to make
suggestions for changes he might like. Tyler wasn't shy. Cleveland
had final say, and told his slave his eyes were bigger than what
his ass could comfortably hold, and how much he hated big sloppy
cunts. They were the reason he chose to jump the fence and find
himself a devoted male slave.
When Master Billy and his posse were finished with Cleve and
Tyler, they were taken off to sit with the others under the cloud
chambers. It wasn't like sitting in a classroom full of students.
Each chamber was individualized. Some learned more quickly than
others, and a one-on-one situation made it easier on slow
learners. There was no competition to see who was the brightest or
could learn the fastest. While Seth was a cybernetic creation, he
seemed to have the patience of a saint, and no one left his
chambers without fully understanding and knowing the lesson or
application he patiently taught them. With each application, Seth
made his students repeat it over and over again until it became
almost second nature to them.
* * * * * * *
One of Billy's main rules about other men who chose witness his
enhancement and refurbishing powers with his Cowboy-Angels would
be expected to be naked along with the others whether they
actually participated or not. Therefore, Admiral Ben Armitage
Senior was naked as the day he was born standing along side his
son Admiral Arthur Benjamin Armitage Junior. Admiral Armitage, the
younger, could remember only a handful of times having seen his
dad in the raw before, and out of curiosity, couldn't help steal a
glance at his old man's tackle from time to time. He was amazed
his dad seemed to be considerably larger than himself, certainly
larger than he could remember, and he still had his foreskin. Art
couldn't remember his dad having a foreskin. Ben One caught his
boy nervously trying to get a good look at his old man. Big Ben
decided to put the kibosh on his boy's curiosity, took his son by
his hand a led him to a private room he knew about off the
dungeon.
After they walked in and closed the door, Admiral Ben turned to is
son, put his arms on his shoulder, gently turned Art Junior to
face him, took his mature hefty-cock in his right hand while
keeping his left hand on his son's shoulder. “Don't be shy, Boy? I
didn't raise you to be no Nervous-Nelly around other men – clothed
or not. I can see your meat-computer inside yore' head spin'n its
wheels ninety-to-nothing with comparisons – raising questions you
would never ask about because you were trained and grew up to be a
proper young man, a gentleman with high respect and regard for
your elders. You wanna' know how come yore' old man's got more
meat than you remembered and grew a nice set of lace curtains?
Ain't no secret. I'll tell you.
“Your ma and her family are gone, and as you know, I weren't never
of the same ilk as her side of the family. I learned proper
English, but I've always been more comfortable in my boots. I was
born and raised as a rough and rowdy cowboy before I got socially
railroaded by your mamma's daddy, who was a a fundamentalist
preacher what ran for congressman and won a seat. That old bible
thump'n geezer made it plain to me, if I wanted to marry his
daughter, I would attend the Naval Academy and graduate with
honors. I figured if Jacob could wait fourteen years to marry,
Rachel, the woman he truly loved, four years at the Academy and a
solid education was considerably less to pay for the woman I
loved. I played football and led our team to victory for four
years. It turned out to be a win-win situation for me even if I
eventually got short changed later.
“After graduating Annapolis I went into the service and decided to
make a career of the military. I left you alone with your mother
and her family and never interfered until you decided to make a
career for yourself in the military. You followed in my footsteps
and even did better than me at the Academy. You outdid me at
football and became a national athletic hero before you graduated.
Your mother begged you not to become a military man. I never said
a word and left the decision up to you. I remember you never got
along real good with your mother and her family, but you very
cleverly manipulated, placated, and tolerated them with strong
ambivalence. I often wondered if you decided to attend Annapolis
to defy her and her family or if you done it because of hero
worship for me. Because of your mother's over-protectiveness,
you've always been a conundrum for me, but I plan to find out why.
You're somewhat of a riddle I want answered. I feel we've come to
a crossroad in our lives and we need to know these things about
each other before we proceed.
“Here, Son! Take your old man's cock in your hand. Feel its weight
and admire its beauty – play with it if you like. I'll take yours
in my hand to return the favor, and we won't let go our bond until
every question has been answered. Don't be shy. Ain't no need.
Why, it's positively biblical. Just remember – it says in the
great Watcher Prophet's book 'Strong Heroes and Scary Monsters' by
Xoastros Xenfedel The Elder, Chapter six hundred sixty-six, verse
sixty-nine, if a man offers you the honor of holding his manhood,
you must accept to prove you mean him no harm. If he asks you a
question, you must tell him the absolute truth or your tongue will
cleave to the roof of your mouth, your right hand will forget its
cunning, he will know you're lying, and your word is worthless.
Once you have lied to him, he will never trust you again, nor will
he ever offer you the honor of holding his penis,” Admiral Ben
said firmly like it was a firm gospel.
“I ain't never heard me that scripture before. It sure sounds
authentic enough. May I assume it works both ways, sir?” Art
Junior asked.
“Of course, Son. As long as you choose to hold my manhood in your
hand I wouldn't dare lie to you. Why, I done heard me stories of
men what didn't keep their word of honor and lied, would cause
their cocks to turn blue, then black, shrink, shrivel-up real
small, and finally drop off,” Admiral Ben assured his son.
“Why is your cock bigger than mine – you got a foreskin, and I
don't?” Admiral Art asked.
“Fair question. Your granddaddy insisted I be circumcised as part
of the marriage package he sold me before he would allow me to
marry your mother. I always secretly hated him for that – more
than the rest of his demands. It was like he took over our
relationship like a referee in a football game and your mother and
my bedroom were the end zones. He forced us to agree with and obey
his outdated religious mores what have ruined many lives over the
centuries; however, by that time, it was too late, and the
information neither helped my plight nor alleviated my humiliation
and feelings of a great loss after circumcision.
“Later, I come to understand it's quite common among Evangelical
Christians in the South. General Halfablap's father-in-law,
another holier-than-thou fanatic fundamentalist required the same
of him when he asked for his wife's hand in marriage. His
situation was similar to mine. After his third daughter from only
three nights of connubial bliss, his wife shut down her baby
making machine using the same excuse your mother did. After his
refurbishment, including a healthy new enlarged penis with a fine
foreskin being returned to him, she refused to have anything to do
with him and filed for divorce. Fortunately, the General didn't
waste any time nor did he grieve for his ex-wife for more than a
fortnight and is now Major Langstrom's Husband and Master, and
he's very comfortable with their bond. I ain't seen me no frown on
his big cowboy face since they been together.
“Master Billy asked me what changes I wanted after he and his
Cowboy-Angels brought me back to life. He was kind and gracious
enough to give me what I asked for while he was refurbishing my
aging body. He brought me around-right between thirty-five and
forty. Don't become alarmed or take what I'm about to say the
wrong way as you will always be my greatest love, but I come to
look upon that young cowboy as a second son I was cheated from
having. After your birth, your mother refused to have sex with me
anymore. She told me her family claimed fornication was only to
have children and not for pleasure. I told her I wanted at lease
three more sons, and a couple of daughters for her old age might
be nice, but she kept begging off until I refused to argue
anymore. I ain't the kind of man what would force himself on a
woman – especially his own wife. Your mother didn't take care of
her body, gained a lot a weight, and I ultimately lost interest in
her sexually. I come to realize it was what she wanted. The last
ten years of her life we never got closer than a hug at Christmas.
She insisted we sleep in separate rooms, and I never argued with
her,” Admiral Ben answered his boy.
“Jesus! I wondered about your relationship with mom, Dad, but I
never dreamed it was so bad for you. In essence, you were shut out
of our family, and you never knew about my secret hero worship for
you. What a revelation. I was right to have such strong feeling
for my old man, and my mother's part of our family were wrong,”
Art Junior said, almost in a whisper like he just experienced his
own personal ground-shaking epiphany.
"My turn!” Admiral Ben continued. “In all these years, I ain't
never asked about your private life, but I know you from bits and
pieces I gathered from our conversations, you ain't never dated a
woman long enough to become enamored of her or become engaged. You
have a retinue – a handful or more of several lovely young women
you contract with and pay handsomely to wine and dine and appear
in public with you or attend some required official social
engagement. You're reaching middle age, Son, and I jokingly tell
close friends when they ask about your private life, you don't
have no private life, you're married to your Platoon,” Ben said.
Art sighed deeply and gripped his dad's cock tighter, “The
gods-gospel truth, huh? Okay, I'll play along. I know my dear-old
dad would neither make-up a scripture like 'at nor try to blow
smoke up his son's butt. May them Angels help me, I believe every
word. So here's my truth: Mom's family fucked with my head until I
became so confused, I didn't know what to believe or how I was
suppose to feel about myself and life in general. I became one
confused young boy. I could never choke-down the fast-feeding of
questionable miracles and superstitions. I was slowly sinking into
a morass of depression and self-hatred because I knew I could
never live up to her and my granddad's expectations. The worst
part was, I just couldn't bring myself to believe the crap they
held holy. If that wasn't enough, when I began to go through
puberty, I discovered I was going to like men more than women and
I knew that was an unforgivable sin according to their beliefs.
“I remember you taking me fishing or we'd go to a rodeo when you
came home to spent some quality time with me. I told you I was
uncomfortable with mom's beliefs and granddad thumping his bible
and preaching to me all the time. You never spoke against them,
but you quietly warned me to take their ideas about religion and
how to live my life with a grain of salt, and ignore ninety-nine
percent of the garbage. I remembered one night in the cabin on the
lake I broke down, you took me into your big arms, and held me
until I cried myself to sleep. The next morning you were almost
angry – not with me, but what they were doing to me. You stood
your ground and told me to pretend I was buying their nonsense,
keep my own set of beliefs to myself, and don't give them a crumb
to feed their radical frenzy.
“I remember that conversation to this day, and I followed your
advice. As I matured, I convinced myself there was only one solid
figure in my life I could trust to tell me the truth – my own
personal Rock of Gibraltar – and, that was you, Dad. I watched how
you handled them, and I adopted your attitude of patient
indifference. You played the strong silent warrior card and gave
them just enough to keep them off your and my backs. I knew I
could count on you as a role model, so I slowly began to copy your
style of stoic indifference. When I heard them pass off their
failure to bring me around to their way thinking, and finally
using the term 'like father, like son' in frustration, I knew I
was making progress to become my own man.
"The more they pressed, the harder I worked to built a strong wall
between them and me. Since I never talked back or argued with
them, they thought my silence and not voicing any opinion meant I
believed everything they did. I remember Ma's funeral. I didn't
shed a tear, but I noticed you didn't either. You looked at me and
asked if my lack of tears was because I was trying to be strong
for you? Do you remember my reply?” Art asked.
“You told me you shed all your tears for your mother when you went
through puberty, and the day you decided to become a man, you
cried no more. You said from that time on, you simply tolerated
her like an aging pet. She killed any love you might have felt for
her, because she was always complaining and bad-mouthing me.
Without any noticeable anguish, you told me you wouldn't miss her
or her family,” Admiral Ben replied.
“That's right, and from that day, I ceased all communications with
her side of our family. I tried hard to walk in your steps, but I
always knew you were more of a man than me. Parts of me are like
you – others, not so much. I'm more comfortable using cowboy-talk
and catch myself lapsing into it frequently. You asked about hero
worship. No – I'm afraid it goes way beyond that. Does telling the
truth include me having to elaborate on my comment and the ugly
details or will you spare your only son the embarrassment of
telling you the lurid, down and dirty, incestuous fantasies he
dreams about his old man, and secret urges I've lived with since I
reached puberty?” Admiral Art asked his father.
“Absolutely! Bet chore' sweet cowboy ass, Buckaroo! Ain't no room
for argument! It's part of telling your old man the god's gospel
truth about his boy! I think it's part of the Code of the West or
the Cowboy Way – I ain't real sure – don't quote me on it. All
things considered, your embarrassment notwithstanding, let's
compromise, and save that moment for some e'nin soon when we's
lying naked, holding each other, your old man is stealing kisses
and talking dirty about the nasty things he's gonna' do to his
sweet boy lying in his arms,” Admiral Ben said and smiled at his
son.
“That's certainly a nice cushion to make it easier for me – which
is greatly appreciated. Then you have experienced sex or homo-love
with another man, Dad?” Admiral Art asked.
“Sex, not love. Well, Hell, that ain't true neither. Your use of
the word 'homo' rattled me. It's become perverted over the
centuries by religion to mean something unholy, sinful, and nasty.
Uneducated morons use the term 'Homo' to mean a gay man – a
cocksucker. Homo sapiens is the name of our species – for both men
and women – it means 'Wise Ape.' I know! I know! I'll agree, the
translation of 'Homo sapien' to 'Wise Ape' is a stretch of the
imagination – almost an oxymoron. I wonder sometimes why we
weren't called 'Self-centered Selfish Ape' – translates: I got
mine, fuck you; or 'War Apes' – translates: We came, we saw, we
killed him, he died! Followed by a wicked laugh like being
responsible for the death of another world leader chosen by his
people whom we didn't agree with and wanted out of power, was a
joke.
“The truth is, you can't have an intimate physical experience with
another Homo – don't matter which sex – for mutual physical relief
without a modicum of shared affection; unless, you're a
psychopath with absolutely no care for your fellow man. With that
in mind, sometimes you take a faithful, easy sex partner for
granted. Bonobo Chimpanzee males who share sex with each other as
a means of close bonding is not done without affection. It becomes
a comfortable release for both, but the best part is, there's
still room for a shit-load of respect and admiration. Don't it
make you curious why them Christianist's god didn't send down a
Jesus Bonobo to preach to our genetically closest animal relatives
to tell them what they can't do with their sex organs, why they
must whack off the best part, and if they don't obey, they won't
go to Bonobo heaven when they die?
“Sharing sex with another man is considerably better than
masturbation. Regardless of couplings, when two men get together
for physical relief, they form a comfortable bond. If done right,
the result adds up to a form of affection, but it ain't the
passionate kind you might call 'love.' It's more like the care you
have for a good friend or a close brother what's got chore' back
and you can count on. Brotherly love fits the definition right
nice. Besides, General Tate has been the surrogate son or slave to
one of the roughest, toughest, no-nonsense, Master Staff Sergeant
the Marine Corps has ever produced. When Dan was still in his
teens, his own father kicked him out of his home because he caught
Gunny Tate and his boy in bed together. Sergeant Tate took Dan
Tate on as his boy and give him his last name. Gunny shaped Dan up
with his tough-love brand of Marine discipline, sent him to
college, and when he came home, encouraged him 'deeply' to become
a fine Officer in the Marine Corps.
"When we're in Washington, General Tater-Puss brings me my coffee
ever' damn morning come rain or shine – unless he's out sick. It's
become a ritual meeting we done for years. He locks the door
behind him, sucks my fresh cream out of my old cock like he was
milking his favorite cow, empties my balls, spits into his cup to
flavor his coffee, and we go over our schedules. How long's it
been going on? I lost count at twenty years. He reminds me now and
then, and we share a brotherly hug, a kiss on the cheek, and a pat
on the back. When I get real horny, I whip open my cell phone,
punch 'Sarge' and seek his husband's permission, and Dan offers up
his fine ass to me. We find a cheap motel for an afternoon or
e'nin, and we ain't never said 'no' to each other unless something
unavoidable comes up – then we make it up later.
"He ain't never turned me down, and tells me I'm a pretty dang
good fuck, but not nearly as good as his old man – his husband and
master,” Admiral Ben said and continued, “After all them years of
playing hide-the-little-green-snake, old Tater-Puss is still a
mighty-fine fuck. He keeps telling me I'm like an old bottle of
wine, I only get better as I get older, and my four-knee-kate'n
technique matures,” Admiral Ben said firmly and smiled as he
watched his boy blush. "The truth of the matter is, them
holier-than-thou pulpit pound'n son's-of-bitches don't consider,
if God didn't want lonely cowboys to butt fuck one another and
enjoy it, he never would have provided them with a prostate gland.
It's as simple as that, Son," Ben finished.
“Let the truth come forth! I still got-a-holt of your cock, Boy! I
call it my 'truth theorem.' You can't hold nothing back! Is that
one a them god-awful, dirty, lurid fantasies you dreamed about
doing wiff' your old man, Son – you need your old man to take what
he needs from your sweet buckaroo butt and rides high and proud in
your fine saddle until he gifts you with his seed – the seed what
made you?” Ben asked just above a whisper and stole a kiss from
his boy.
“Damn, Dad! I've dreamed about a moment like this so many times –
too many to count, but I never imagined, in my wildest dreams, it
might come true. There's one more thing you need to know,
Admiral,” Art Junior said quietly.
“You're a virgin? You ain't never had sex with another person –
male or female?” Admiral Ben asked quietly and kissed his boy
gently on his forehead.
“Yes, sir. I ain't particularly proud of it, but neither am I
ashamed – nor do I consider myself less of a man. I always
thought, if I was given the choice of a partner who I might like
to take me for my first time, it would be you, Dad,” Art Junior
said.
“I'll gladly take yore cherry, Son, but remember Major Bart when
he boldly displayed his ability to morph his genitals into a
right-fine looking small Warrior's cunt for his master's comfort?
How do you feel about morphing your genitals to provide your old
man with a little comfort?” Admiral Ben asked.
“I ain't thought about nothing else since Major Langstrom morphed
his body and explained how and why. Not only was I green with
jealousy of the Major, it made a Hell of a lot of sense to me. It
sure seemed to brighten up General Hank's outlook on life. I can't
remember seeing him so happy and comfortable with his life. I
would be pleased and honored to provide you with the comfort you
never got from my mother. Major Langstrom opened new vistas and
possibilities for me, and I planned to ask Master Billy, today, if
he would bless me with the same option. However, now we discussed
each others druthers, I'm like a kid waiting for Christmas morning
to get my new bicycle. If you really mean what you say, and I
ain't got me no reason to think you don't – you ain't never lied
to me – I don't know if I can wait. My hungry heart, my lonely
mind, my aching cock, and my starving asshole are on fire and
hyper-excited about lying down and giving myself to my personal
hero,” Art Junior said almost like he was in great pain.
“Easy, Boy, there ain't no problem – ain't no cause for panic.
Major Bart done taught your old man how a master can morph his
slave's cock into a fine cunt. We practiced together for hours,
and I got me several hours donated by Major Bart as ordered by his
husband and master. I ain't the best yet, but I can get the job
done. After you lie under Master Billy, get refurbished and
enhanced, all I gotta' do is wave my hand over your cock and
balls, and they will recede into your body. They will morph into a
small, right-nice, handsome, Warrior-cunt to offer your old man,”
Admiral Ben said.
“Would that make you my master, sir, and me your slave?” Art
Junior asked.
“Not right away, Boy. You need some time to learn to ride your new
bike and get used to some of these ideas. You're gonna' need some
breathing room and time alone to consider them things. Don't jump
into the cart before you ride your old man's horse and haul his
ashes, Son. There will be plenty of time to consider the future,
but never make the mistake of underestimating your old man's love
for you. Even though the cards were stacked against me and your
mother, she done gimme' the most precious gift a man could ever
receive when she gave birth to you. We don't have to jump into
anything but a comfortable bed. Two men shouldn't discuss them
things until after they been together for a while and become
comfortable sleeping side by side with one another. Ain't no rush.
I'll give you a hand and help facilitate your changeling function
until you get more experienced with the application and learn to
morph for yourself,” Ben replied.
“I'm still holding your cock, Pa,” Art Junior reminded his father
of his truth-theorem, “What if I'm comfortable leaving the
exercise of that option up to you?” he asked quietly.
“I have no problem with it, but I warn you, it might be like
giving a kid the key to a candy store. If it works out as well as
I hope it might between us, you won't never regret you left your
cock in your old man's hands, Son. I will always morph your male
parts back when you go to work and perform your official duties,
but when we're home, alone, together – I will decide,” Admiral Ben
replied firmly.
“That's the way I want it, Ramrod. I wouldn't have it no other
way,” Ben Junior said. The two men, father and son, fine warriors,
sealed their bond with a big, wet, sloppy, cowboy kiss like they
were drinking from each others deep well of common waters.
“You know some folks might say an incestuous relationship between
a father and his son, is perhaps, the most perverted, and surely
the most unforgivable sin,” Admiral Ben said quietly.
“Whoever came up with that garbage didn't have a dad like mine,”
Admiral Art said like his comment put the period at the end of the
sentence and there was no further need to consider the matter. In
his mind, it was as natural as a cock crowing at the first light
of dawn.
Billy called for Admiral Arthur Benjamin Armitage Junior to lie
down under his team of healers and refurbishing Cowboy-Angels. He
wanted to bring the military men on board first as they might have
less time to fully adjust to their new changes than the more
mature cowboys. Admiral Ben stood by his son as Billy and his
posse brought Admiral Art Junior around-right as nature would have
him with an enlarged cock to match his old man's. When Art Junior
stood next to his dad more than one Cowboy-Angel and several of
the Admiral's platoon gasped at their unquestioned similarity.
They looked more alike than many identical twins. Many gasps and
quiet 'Hosannas!' were heard.
* * * * * * *
Billy called for the two mature cowboys to come lie down under his
Cowboy-Angels to receive their promised refurbishments. They were
quiet, retiring, and understandably shy with the sudden flood of
massive information they were introduced to since early that
morning. Even though they ate a good, hardy meal for lunch, they
were still exhausted. Their bodies didn't have time to process
their food to give them both physical and mental strength. Billy
could see it in their eyes, the poor dears were more than a little
befuddled by the strange new world in which they found themselves.
Billy couldn't get much out of them to deduce how to best handle
their refurbishment for their needs and greatest satisfaction.
They were down on their luck for so long, it was like they lost
their passion for life and were preparing themselves for the
sunset of their final days.
It wasn't a comfortable situation for Billy. Since he was unable
to spend enough time with them, he could neither delve into their
depths to grasp their finer points to enhance their natural
talents, nor were they exposed to the unusual enhancement
applications which might be difficult for them to understand and
adjust to the expanded possibilities. Tree Griffin and Tank Barger
cued Master Billy they probably knew as much about them as anyone,
but it wasn't a whole lot. They answered as many of his questions
as they could. They suggested, with everything else going on, it
would probably be best if he refurbished them with health and
longevity enhancements, and leave the Cowboy-Angel routine for
later when he could do a more in depth adjustment.
There were several of Billy's main posse listening to the
exchange. Bart, Roy, and Hank were standing quietly. They weren't
contributing much to the conversation, but trying to do their part
to channel the healing rays from the ethos. Randy and Lem was
standing near them. The young boys caught Bart's eye, looked at
each other in disgust, and shook their heads. Randy turned on his
boot-heel and started to walk away. Lem hung his head and
followed. Bart shook his head, and turned to join Randy. Hank
followed his men with a look of disappointment. Nick looked Billy
right in the eye, shook his head, and followed the other men.
“Holy shit! My bottom just done fell out! You men wait!” he called
to his main posse, “I done seen that look before, and it ain't
neither one of agreement nor approval. I see only disappointment
and frustration. I don't want no unhappy campers. I got a lot on
my plate right now. If you men don't agree, speak up! Ain't seen
such a look of anger and disappointment on your face in a good
while, Bossman. Don't chew your cud without belching first. Speak
your peace!” Billy said strongly with a modicum of social panic in
his voice.
“Them men didn't think about themselves when they decided to take
their lives into their own hands and throw their lot in with some
eye-tenor-rent cowboys they jes' met only minutes before the shit
hit the fan at that false NSA office in Houston. For their
heroism, Major Langstrom sings them a happy song about Christmas
for Cowboys, his Big-Bubba Santa Claus and his helpers, pie in the
sky, lemonade springs, and a big rock candy mountain. One of your
main men promises to see to their pain, poverty, and general
disappointment with life. He gives them his word he will make it
better for them, and see to it they will get their fair share of
presents from the leader of the Cowboy-Angel's New World Order
when he takes them to the workshop at the North-Pole-Annex in the
Hill Country. Now you ain't got the time, and you're gonna' ask
your elves to put the well-deserved toys they been promised on
back order? I'd wager three quarters of your posse in this dungeon
were in similar situations when you reached out for us. You didn't
hold nothing back, and we didn't do nothing nearly so heroic. Do I
need to remind you of the brave but foolish chance you took when
you reached out to me in the parking lot at Walmart? I remember
you dropped ever' thing the time I tickled you when Leather Face
got shot and fell off a cliff,” Randy said firmly like a Union
Leader for Santa's Helpers.
“You ever considered a career in law, Son?” Grover Parsnip ask
Randy dryly and got a good laugh from everyone in the dungeon area
to lighten the mood.
Billy smiled, but then shot a look of panic to General Boynton.
“Hey, don't look at me, Hoss!” General Heavy-Drop admonished
Billy, shrugging his shoulders, “If I don't get one a them
heavy-artillery dust-ups from General Tater-Puss's holy-book of
Marine Etiquette or a blatantly-impertinent, in-my-face,
dress-down quote from Robert's Rules of Military Order from my
Major at least once't a week, I began to get an uneasy feeling
they don't love me no more. Let's face it, Cowboy, without them,
I'm just another piece of military dog-shit in the cantaloupe
patch – and other than my Joint Chiefs – they's a dime a dozen,”
he bellowed and laughed. The room broke up as they watched the
huge General take Billy into his arms and kiss him on his
forehead. Billy blushed a deep red color.
“All right! I stand corrected. Thank them Ancients I ain't lost my
appetite for Humble Pie. Lately, I been eat'n my fair share. Have
my grooms cleaned them two cowboys and get them ready for
refurbishment?” Billy barked.
“They'll be a bit longer, sir. I just checked on them a few
minutes ago,” Bart replied.
Captain Nick got a disgusted look on his face, “I ain't no
General, but I've commanded this here Space Ship, the Good Ship
'Lilith' for more Earth years than most you men got fingers and
toes. As I understand the situation, General Heavy-Drop and his
posse's 'Dust-up' with the Powers-That-Be is set for Friday. I
don't know what you men hope to accomplish trying to bring only a
few of Admiral Art's Seal Warriors on line with our Platoon.
They're gonna' be out-of-the-loop for at least twenty-four hours
until they's fully fledged, maybe more depending on each man's
learning curve. Rough guesstimate? You're looking at only another
twenty-four hour period max to educate them in Seth's cloud
chambers.
“You men better get off your damn butts, and start considering
what's gonna' happen come Friday morning when you confront your
lying government with some pert-damn powerful evidence the
government you been supporting is nothing but criminals and they's
in cahoots with two criminal Alien races to boot. You men better
make a solid, irrefutable statement, so's there ain't no doubt
left in any-body's mind, they need to be replaced. Then you better
be ready to step-in, take over, and grab the reins of power like a
runaway team and bring everything to a dead halt until you can
gather yourselves and make an announcement to the nation and the
world what you plan to do about it.
“If you plan to use Admiral Armitage's Seal Team for protection as
a show of military strength, I strongly suggest you bring ever'
damn one of his Seal Platoon Warriors and a few of his other staff
on board as fully fledged Cowboy-Angels as soon as possible – and
don't leave Bogart or Sonny behind. Them handsome, regenerated
Watchers can be as awesome as your Watcher-Protectors for your
Platoon, Son. I know they been mainly kept as house-pets, but now
they're whole again, ain't no reason they shouldn't be included in
the rest of your Seal Team family; however, they will also need
the training.
Master Billy done already made you men a solid, handsome offer to
join us and work for our family. Maybe now is the time to decide
to fish or cut bait. You got the rest of today and two more days
to be ready. Them men need to be in them damn cloud chambers a
minimum of twenty-four hours to absorb enough advanced knowledge
and skills to become razor sharp and able to function under any
circumstances. They need to be taught who, how, and what to
protect on this mission unto the Lion's den. I think it's time we
consider pulling a very large rabbit out of our hats, and get
serious about this matter,” Nick said firmly in his Captain tone
which said, he was neither to be questioned nor contradicted. He
was strongly suggesting, if they planned to pull-off a successful
bloodless coup – the second coup of the Twenty First Century –
they better get their asses in gear and be ready.
“I couldn't agree more with Captain Nick. Our biggest enemy right
now is time itself. Is Seth in touch with your husband's Uncles on
Retikki Prime, Billy?” General Boynton replied and asked.
“Yes, Sir. They keep running tabs on us. Remember, everything we
do here on our planet is broadcast out into the universe as a
Reality Show. They's tuned into us this very minute. I think what
the General is suggesting we let the time differentiation work for
us,” Billy said to Nick.
“We sat under them cloud chambers in Retikki Prime for several
hours after we got there last weekend to learn some language and
planet-protocol so's we wouldn't make fools of ourselves and look
like back-water hayseeds of the universe. What would you think of
Basic Training for our Seal Platoon transitioning into
Cowboy-Angel-Warriors and Watcher-Protectors off-world for our
men, Captain Nick?” Royce Boynton asked.
“I's hoping you men might come around to explore other possible
opportunities available to you. Your suggestion is the best yet,
General. I might have eventually come around to the idea, but I
think I been on Earth too long. I'm afraid a part of me is
starting to regress into a plow-horse mentality. I didn't know if
you men would want to seek a more advanced method, but your idea
should work fine. Don't overlook another important option. Along
with Billy and the Daniels family you men got six hundred Fallen
Angels who were written about in the Bible and several other
ancient tomes. They been completely refurbished and restored to
their original state of health and strength, and with the
educations of thousands of years of technological progress under
their belts. Them Angels is an instant, awesome resource to call
upon. And this time around, their missions won't be hampered
by insane Lizard Overlords pulling their strings.
“They have become highly educated Cowboy-Angels who arrived to
join us on the first of August, but we ain't even taken the time
to sit down with them to to find out what they know and how best
they might fit into your plans to take over the government. You
and your staff might want to go along when we have our first
meeting to learn just what the Hell them men know and how best to
utilize them. Your idea of making time work for you is what I
might expect from a leader of your experience who ain't afraid to
use new technology and has learned to rely on unusual social
bondings,” Nick complimented General Heavy-Drop.
“What in the Hell are they talking about, Dad, six hundred
refurbished Fallen Angels, and what is this about a Space Ship?”
Admiral Art asked as his team and two Watchers looked on.
“You're on Captain Nick's Space Ship right now, Son. Everything
you've seen from this Dungeon in a great castle to the Village and
Town Square are part of his ship. It's a technology our scientist
are aware of, but they ain't been able to incorporate into what
they call a Tesseract. Which means placing larger areas into
smaller areas. Once you seen the whole picture, you'll come to
understand more and begin to take it for granted. We're inside a
Tesseract? Oh, well okay! It's like them cave men when they
discovered they could make fire work for them. I've only been
aware of these wonders within the last couple of weeks and come so
used to them, I wonder how we ever lived without them. Captain
Nick and General Boynton are talking about time and space. There's
a time dilation between universes, Son, as predicted by Einstein's
theories.
“Last Sunday us Chief of Staff and a number of our close officers
– approximately thirty in our military posse – along with Master
Billy, the Houston Orchestra, and a large number of other Daniels
family members, gated to another world in the constellation of
Orion called Retikki Prime. Retikki Prime is the ancestral home
planet of your Sasquatch mascots, Bogart and Sonny. They're known
as the Watchers, or Grigori, and have been passively looking out
for us and our planet for centuries. Billy's husband, Boomer, is
next in line for the throne of the planet and a dozen more or so
other planets. We spent several days on the their beautiful world.
When we returned, only one hour passed here on Earth. You could
spend several weeks or a month their time and only an hour or two
would pass on our world,” Admiral Ben explained.
“You mean to tell me and my men, you been to another world?”
Admiral Art asked incredulously.
“That's right, Son, and we had a wonderful time,” Ben replied and
smiled. “Oh, yes, and as for them six hundred Fallen Angels, we'll
show you a video this e'nin of Master Billy and his men raiding an
ancient tomb to rescue and release them six hundred Fallen Angels
kept in stasis for thousands of years. It will give you a new
perspective of the man and family who have asked you join with
them and work for them,” Admiral Ben said.
* * * * * * *
While they were waiting for the two older cowboys, Billy and his
men took the next pair of Admiral Art's Seal Platoon, Simon
Bartles and Lytell Weedill. Both men were two of the largest men
in the Platoon, but their partner status was unknown. Simon was of
Sephardic Jew descent and Lytell was black. Each was a
outstandingly handsome male, and together they made an awesome
team. They weren't shy and firmly stated they were atheist. They
were not shy socially, but they were respectfully quiet and
reserved like two men who were deeply satisfied with their present
station in life. While they were modest most of the time, it was
obvious they held great respect for their team members, each
other, and their individual talents. The way they carried and
presented themselves demanded respect. They were quietly taken and
comfortable with most of Master Billy's Cowboy-Angels, but they
were overwhelmed by Clyde, Balthazar, and several others of Master
Billy's posse and their body jewelry. They couldn't keep their
eyes off Orville Higginbothem, Earl Hickson, and especially
Harley-Buck Johnson. They lost all sense of decorum when they
caught sight of the three handsome horned men and their piercings.
“You men are slaves?” Simon Bartles asked.
The men smiled and nodded, “Yes, sir, Master Bartles, we're the
only three punishment slaves in the Daniels family, sir,”
Harley-Buck Johnson replied respectfully.
“And what do we have to do to get convicted of a crime just bad
enough we'll get to become slaves like you and wear horns and
rings?” Lytell Weedill asked. Everyone in the dungeon laughed at
the men.
“You don't have to do nothing bad. We got the body jewelry and our
horns, not because we's slaves, but because we done a couple of
things our master thought was brave and above the call of duty for
our station in his family. He decided we deserved a reward. He
couldn't shorten our time as slaves, so at our requests, he gifted
us with our jewelry first and then our horns,” Harley-Buck said.
“Beats the Hell out of Bronze Stars and Purple Hearts, don't it
partner?” Lytell Weedill asked his buddy and the rest of Admiral's
seal team agreed. “No disrespect intended, Major Langstrom,” he
added.
“None taken, sir, I'm in full agreement. I just may ask if I might
swap a couple of my medals for some handsome body jewelry and a
set of them fine horns. Them men didn't tell you they can also
morph their horns away for meeting the public, but they can't
their body jewelry,” Bart explained.
“I can remember as a young boy about eight years old, I found a
book in a density-dumpster of old Norse gods and warriors who wore
horns, and they became my standard of masculinity when I was
growing up. No one told me their horns were attached to their
helmets. I didn't know no better. I thought they were another
mighty warrior race of humans and the males grew horns when they
grew up to become warriors. It sounds crazy, I know, but I thought
if some cows grow horns and others didn't, it might be possible
the Norse Warriors grew their own. They became my image of what a
perfect warrior should look like to instill fear into his enemy. I
used to sneak off to my room, get naked, look at the pictures of
them warriors, and masturbate for hours because they turned me own
so much. They still do to this day. Think I'm kidding? Look!” the
huge warrior challenged and pulled his pants tight to show his
impressive cock, stiff as a rod down the leg of his fatigues.
Billy's slaves smiled and applauded for Lytell. “Ain't no more
doubt in my mind, Admiral Armitage! I definitely want to work for
Master Billy and the Daniels Family!” he said firmly.
“I second that emotion, Admiral!” Simon Bartles exclaimed,
strongly backing his mate.
* * * * * * *
Billy built a fire under his posse of Cowboy-Angels and called for
a goodly number of the refurbished Fallen Angels to stand with his
posse to beef up their power to achieve their goal of getting
everyone connected to the military under General Boynton, his
staff, and the two Armitage Admirals enhanced and/or refurbished.
It was decided they wouldn't wait for the Admiral Art's platoon to
fledge and be sent to Retikki Prime for their infusion of
knowledge and learn to use their enhancements to the best of their
abilities to make certain the head-on meeting with the government
went according to plan. Half the platoon went through a gate and
returned within an hour. When they returned, the first eight were
fully fledged and enhanced. They took over guarding the Lizards
and Grays as the rest of their platoon was refurbished, enhanced,
and went through the gate. Both halves of the platoon were
accompanied by anyone who wanted to be further enhanced, but
several were ordered by General Boynton.
When the word got out to the Irin, Ramrod Quigley insisted each
section of General Art's Platoon make a quick stop detour to Fort
Adam Lear for an hour of their last evening on Retikki Prime. The
men and their accompanying posse of higher rank military were
treated to a nice cowboy cookout dinner, and they were further
enhanced before they returned to Retikki Prime, then home. The men
saw and learned so much from the cloud chambers on Retikki Prime,
under the guidance of Seth on Earth, by the end of their sojourn
into new and wonderful realms they were more than ready for
another adventure. After all, how often does a Warrior get an
invitation to travel from one galaxy to another in the blink of an
eye?
General Boynton ordered his two Admirals, Ben and Art Armitage to
accompany each half of Admiral Art's Seal Platoon. He also ordered
Brigadier General Hank Halfablap, Major Bart Langstrom, Captain
Royce Boynton Junior, and Captain Lem Boynton to go with them. Lem
would be the only underage member, but his dad, Master Billy, and
the Great Shedu team strongly suggested he be included along with
Aunt Helen and her twelve small disciples. With equal strength,
they suggested they might consider sending Master Billy's
broadcasting team of Stan Norsworthy, Doug Quilty, and Wes Taylor.
General Heavy-Drop cordially invited Master Jurgen Ironmonger to
accompany and chaperon Captain Roy. Master Ironmonger jumped at
the chance. After all, who would turn down a month's vacation with
the slave of their dreams to hold in their arms every evening for
the price of two hours of your time on Planet Earth.
* * * * * * *
After the two older cowboys, Deckard Ambidextrous Murdock and his
other half, Apollon Coreless Finch, lay under Master Billy, backed
by a large crowd of Cowboy-Angels and supported by their
Watcher-Protector brothers, were refurbished and physically
enhanced. They were looking and feeling better than they did
twenty years ago. When the grooms brought out four sets of Western
clothes, two new pair of boots, hats, belts and buckles for each
partner, they wept at Billy's generosity. The newly enhanced
cowboys were overwhelmed by the intricate and intimate care they
received and how perfectly refurbished they looked and felt after
their sessions. They sat and watched the first half of the
refurbished platoon as they gathered with their officers and a few
others who would be making the trip. They stood together talking
quietly waiting for further instructions.
After the men in charge held a question and answer period with the
eight men of the first half of the platoon to travel to Retikki
Prime, Deck and Apple learned many new things and were deeply
moved by the Seal Team's excited anticipation to get underway.
When there were no more questions, those making the trip gathered,
the gate was opened to Retikki Prime, and they walked through onto
another world in another galaxy.
Deck and Apple talked quietly with each other and the same sense
of duty they displayed in the False NSA office earlier that
morning kicked-in, overwhelmed them, and strummed their conscience
like a Spanish Flamenco guitarist about to begin a Fandango. They
quickly began to change their outlook on life. They reasoned, if
they were granted a second chance at life, they wanted to
contribute more than just living as two dirt-poor itinerant
cowboys who never accumulated much more than an old run-down truck
and couple of cow ponies so old they cheated death every morning
when dared to live another day. The cowboys lived from hand to
mouth with the nasty demon of poverty and ill health breathing
down their rednecks, never knowing if they would have enough to
survive. They decided to pickup the pieces of their lives and make
bolder decisions about their future. They began to talk with their
old buddies, Tank Barger and Tree Griffin, and ask them questions
about their possibilities and what they might expect for the
future.
Tank and Tree were honest with them and told them their options
were limitless. Whatever they chose to do as a results of joining
a new powerful but caring family, they were no longer alone and
could expect a helping hand to become anything they wanted. They
carefully explained how they were brought into the family and how
much better they were doing these days. After the newly
refurbished cowboys saw the first platoon return with their new
wings, walking much taller, and they found out their buddies, Tree
and Tank, were going through the gate for the second hour with the
other half of the platoon, they decided to volunteer to go with
them to learn what they could. Perhaps they could repay Master
Billy and his family for their generosity. No one in Billy's
family tried to talk them out of it. Tank and Tree encourage them
and promised they would look after
them.
* * * * * * *
Admiral Ben and his son used the trips to Retikki Prime as a
chance to get to know each other better and considerably more
intimate. After his boy fledged and learned how to use his wings,
they quickly agreed to explore Art Junior's exceptional
enhancements. It didn't take Admiral Ben long to deflower his own
son and gather his cherry's for his own. Admiral Art never felt
more complete in his life as he did in his handsome father's arms.
Master Jurgen Ironmonger and his training slave, Captain Royce
Boynton Junior spent every night in each others arms and drank in
every moment like a rare old wine. They seemed to gravitate to
keeping company with the two Admirals whose mature affection for
each other was palpable. It was like the four of them were on
'honeymoons' with their partners. Life can be good, no matter
where you are in the galaxy if one brings ample love along with
them. With their new found abilities, the Seal Team and their
officers came to think on their visit to the two planets as trips
to paradise. Several voiced they hope their efforts would pay off,
and they could turn their terribly divided home world into one of
peace and prosperity for everyone and not just the few.
End of Chapter 101 ~ Seek Him What Made Them Seven Stars.
Copyright ~ © ~ 2016 ~ 2017 ~ Waddie Greywolf ~ All Rights
Reserved
Mail to: Waddie Greywolf <[email protected]>
WC = 23,163
12/10/2016
02/19/2017
*
http://www.overtonspeech.net/CommonPhonologicalProcesses.html
* Transmogrification Of Language ~ http://www.telegraph.co.uk/science/2016/09/28/th-sound-to-vanish-from-english-language-by-2066-because-of-mult/
* Belshazzar's Feast ~ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lt3k3-EqnaU
* Merry Christmas ~ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aVWcg0iRSns