He’d forgotten that the sun shone too.
How long had he been in that tent, with Darr’Rak? No–with Darren–his name was Darren! He couldn’t remember exactly–two days? Three? The sun was setting now, behind the mountain rage to the northwest, and staring at the glow, he found himself thinking of the light of Kal’Ragek. The voice was in him, distant but there, telling him that if he returned now, there would be no punishment, that Kal’Ragek could forgive a minor crisis of faith. Instead, Toby ran further away from Darren’s tent, away from that cursed idol, until he couldn’t hear the voice anymore, until he could be sure that what he was hearing was him, and him alone.
The last few days felt like a dream to him, an intense, incredibly pleasurable dream, and one he still longed to return to, even though he knew it was wrong. He and Darren had fucked constantly that first evening and night, he could remember that, paying tribute to their new lord, filling one another with their seed, using it to polish their idol to an even more intense shine. Then, Darren left, and he returned with a third young man, and together…together they brought him into the fold as well, then a fourth had joined soon after. The night before, they had been forced to move to a larger space, and they commandeered a supply tent that was barely used. There, around dawn, Darren had become…Darr’Rak. It was an image seared into his brain, the sight of their god giving the First the true gift, removing the last of his humanity, marking him as the chieftain of their reborn tribe. The sight of him, the smell of him…it was intoxicating. Toby had crawled over, shoving his face into Darr’Rak’s reeking pits, tasting the hair there, along with the others–they had served him for hours in the light of their lord, Toby was priviliged to be the first to fuck himself on the chief’s foot long cock. Looking up at him, he realized that this is what he would become as well, soon enough, but he wouldn’t allow that to happen to him. He refused to give in and become…whatever it was Darren was now. While the rest of the tribe had returned to worship, and while Kal’Ragek’s eyes were away from him, he’d found some clothes stashed in a crate, thrown them on, and slipped away–but now what?
He looked down at himself, at his mostly green arms and feet, his hulking frame, the thick hands, the hair covering his arms, chest and shoulders…he was a monster. A beast. A servant of his lord in his image. He shook his head, but the voice was still there–perhaps it would never be gone. This had to end, in any case–Darr’Rak had to be stopped before things could spread any further…but how?
He could hear men at the mess tent eating dinner, but he froze. If they saw him, what would they think? Away from the tribe, without the voice of his lord…he felt so empty. He hadn’t realized how hard it had become to think, since Darren had infected him, but his mind couldn’t formulate any ideas–there were just emotions and simple urges, and any attempt to build past that, towards a plan, felt impossible. He needed someone smart, and someone he could trust. Someone who would know him, hopefully. He had to get to Professor Jeral, but he had to get him alone first.
He waited until night fell, and then found his way to the professor’s tent, avoiding being seen by anyone else in the meantime. The longer he was away from the tribe, the clearer his head became, which was a relief. He’d nearly…lost himself, or allowed Kal’Ragek to devour him, which is what it had felt like was happening. It was like everything about him was being sucked away, and replaced by some monster, and he’d…wanted it. Still, how would his teacher react to the sight of him? He hesitated outside for a few minutes, but he had no choice. The tribe must have realized he’d gone missing by now–if he didn’t alert everyone soon…well, he knew what Kal’Ragek wanted. It wanted its tribe back, and wanted every man it could find to join it.
“P-Professor?” His voice was so deep, it barely even sounded like him.
No one responded immediately, and he wondered if, perhaps, he wasn’t in the tent and had gone to the bathroom, but after a moment there was a low moan–a sound both of terror and arousal he was intimately familiar with. His heart froze, and Toby smelled it wafting out from within the tent, the heady musk. He needed to run, but his head was growing thick again and his cock was hardening, and when Darr’Rak’s hand reached out from the tent and grabbed him by the upper arm, he allowed the huge beast to pull him inside as well.
The professor was there, naked, soaked in sweat, eyes glazed over. He was a sizable man and still in good shape from his excursions around the world to various dig sites, but beside Darr’Rak he looked puny, almost childlike. The professor pushed his way under the chief’s arm, fighting to get closer to the chief’s sweaty pits. Darr’Rak sat down heavily on the cot, the metal frame groaning under his size, but it only bent slightly.
“I…thought you might come here, when I saw you gone,” Darr’Rak said. His voice was deep and gutteral, the words twisted by the two tusks which had pushed their way from his bottom jaw and over his upper lips. “Very bad, leaving–Kal’Ragek is very angry. The lord wonders if I chose wrong, in you.”
Their lord’s name…it was the first time Toby had heard it said properly. If fell from the chief’s mouth so naturally, the way his thick tongue could press against his tusks, the sharp click of teeth at the end of the name. He tried to keep his head clear, tried to keep what little clarity had returned to him in his hours away from the tribe, but the musk, the sound of his Lord’s name–he’d been wrong, wrong to try and run. What had he been thinking? He pushed forward, eager to smell his chief’s musk, eager to worship him like the older professor was, but when he tried, Darr’Rak tugged down hard on his arm, forcing Toby onto his knees.
“Kal’Ragek understands fear,” the chief said, looking down at Toby, “But fear is for enemies of his tribe–a true disciple has no fear.” He paused, and looked over Toby below him, pleased by how far he had come very far in the last few days, since joining him in the tribe. He was close now, to accepting Kal’Ragek, to being truly named, as he now was. “Are you an enemy of the tribe?”
Bracken's Corner 