Barbarian King
Page 9
everywhere!”
Yet, a few more moments passed.
“Yea, dat work, too!”
Suddenly, BamaOay was arrested from the emptiness of those thoughts by an uproar that came echoing from nearby in the woods. There was something familiar about baying creature...the roaring almost sounded human-like.
“Dat howling,” he murmured to himself, “is dat a human?"
The President started to stand as he normally would, but again, the combination of newfound upper-body mass carried on the same skinny, underdeveloped, long, lanky legs in cleated golf shoes translated into a sort of clumsiness he never before had to consider. Just standing was now a major undertaking. He teetered to his feet, lost his balance and did a half-cartwheel onto the rock-strewn ground with a heavy thump.
Thump!
Amazingly the President’s newfangled, beastial, Herculean exterior absorbed the punishment of the fall like it never happened!
“I not feel pain,” he grinned broadly, because he was now a real, honest-to-God beefcake...a real, slow-thinking, hair-growing-everywhere hunk, “me now a real goddamn hunk!”
The President, however, had to pick himself up very gingerly...very carefully, because the simple act of standing now took grace and balance, especially on slippery rocks and particularly wearing cleated Oxfords. Swaying back and forth for a moment, his humongous arms outstretched to steady himself, BamaOay now set about placing carefully one foot in front of the other and looking as if he was some sort of tightrope artist. Slowly, one foot, then another, left-then-right, again left-then-right...cautiously tiptoeing his way toward the unearthly row; making a beeline toward the racket and pausing only to rip apart obstructing vegetation happening to block his way. He looked like a Caterpillar tractor tearing up the Amazon rainforest with his newfangled, huge and corded muscles.
“What this?” He had come upon a track through the woods...his cleated shoes made a horrific scouring noise as he strode onto the leafy pathway. He looked more closely at his footing. “What this, yellow stone?” He brushed some of the litter away with his shoe, lost his balance and fell again hard upon solid rock.
“Yipe!”
At ground-level the President, turned barbarian, got a firsthand view of a rocky path that led off into the forest. He pushed himself to his knees, again noticing he felt no pain, and brushed aside some of the leafy clutter with his gigantic, muscled hands. The sandy path of Cumberland Island had been replaced by a yellow, lava rock road and, it too, headed off to the south before disappearing in the woods.
A’roo-roo-oof!
The inhuman howling, again, came to his mighty ears beckoning to come hither and discover its source. Again, BamaOay regained his feet with some great difficulty.
Whatever was making that roaring commotion was only a short distance off.
Moments later, the President crushed aside one last tree that stood blocking his path. It was at that moment his eyes set straightaway upon the disturbing sight. The huge, furry figure was lying sprawled out upon the woodland floor apparently asleep.
A’roo-roo-oof!
The creature was face up, its gaping maw echoing bear-like through a widespread orifice. He drew closer to the thing with caution, only to let out a note of horror, “Oh my God, she too morph!”
Her New Look
The New York Post-Chronicle-Tribune-Times - Search by the Secret Service, the FBI, the CIA and a dozen other government departments and agencies continues for the missing Presidential Candidate. Last seen galloping off on her donkey, rumor has it her husband has become the primary suspect in his wife’s disappearance and is under questioning: about his wife’s whereabouts, about the underage teen he was caught fondling in a backyard shed. The press continues to marvel at how the former President continues to tie investigators up in knots with his extraordinary, baffling utterances like, “When you say she ‘is’ missing, it depends on what you mean ‘is’... ‘is?’”
The only way the President could truly tell the laid out figure on the ground was IllaryHay was by the canister of mace still clipped onto one of the thing’s hips. Like him she had also morphed into something else, something more beastly, more primitive looking and oh so wonderful for him to gaze upon. She had remained flat bosomed with large, well-padded shoulders, but no longer sported a pointy, narrow noodle. Her forehead was low and receding like his and her face had a hint of a four o’clock shadow. Her yellowish hair was tangled and mop-like. It was instantly obvious to him that she was a bottle blonde and one too many days away from the hair-coloring specialist, her dark roots at this moment looking like those sported by some cheap woman of the night.
Her whole countenance had reflected unusual dimensions before, but now...now those proportions had been carried to something like the third power. She did, however, still possess some slight femininity of appearance. Yes, she was still all woman, but a prehistoric woman who remained physically big-boned. The low diving neckline of her white-stained blouse still descended to a point where the unbountifulness of her cleavage could be made out, but a fuzzy covered chest had replaced her once bare skin.
IllaryHay’s pantsuit, which had fallen short by a hands length from the ground and only shown her ankles, at this moment looked like a high water design exposing enormous, hairy calves. She had to be as tall as he was by the looks of things. Her slacks were no longer loose fitting, but filled out by what must have been gargantuan hairy thighs and ass. Her most grievous departure from the normal, however, was her once petite feet...those tootsies of hers had become Hobbit-like clodhoppers, now so colossal they had torn asunder her sandals with only one of the cowhide straps still hanging together by a shred. Instead of flaming red and neatly trimmed toenails they were yellowed and unmanicured. Funny thing is, this repulsive visage of the fleecy thing lying in front of him now seemed more seductive to him...in a sort of primitive, barbarian way.
Fierce fingers of wonder tugged at his heart. Yes, she was still colossally boned, yet she could also be mistaken for a goddess: at once bountiful and more voluptuous. BamaOay’s eyes burned with a reinvigorated potency no one could mistake for anything but antediluvian desire. He felt a weird tingling sensation come over him, a shiver that ran down his right leg. Now that tremoring was climbing his left leg, then slowly the feeling ascended up his spine, and about ten seconds later scrambled up into his cerebral cortex, then back down to his third leg. He slowly started to get some wood...and he laughed merrily in an almost inhuman utterance of enchantment.
“Sheet...nice!”
The sleeping beauty replied, “Snort!”
“Me wake her up,” he mumbled in his newfangled, bestial vocalism.
“Wake up,” he spoke hoarsely, and yet softly.
She responded to his urgings with more burdensome breathing.
“Wake me say,” he demanded less genteelly, more assertively.
The damsel answered him with more snuffling.
“Not working, no wake up,” he mumbled to himself in a callous, upset groan.
More heavy breathing was her only reply.
BamaOay thought first of pulling a flower from the many that covered the surroundings, then to tickle one of her fuzzy ears with it, but dropped the idea when he remembered it would force him to stoop and then likely stumble to the turf.
A light bulb went off, as evidenced by an almost intelligent look that came to his face. “Me know what do.”
He carefully walked over to a nearby spruce and...and ripped off a tree limb like some insignificant rotten twig with his gigantic, barbaric hands. Next, he sauntered to her side and set about tickling one of her fleecy ears.
She unconsciously shooed his annoying efforts away with her hand like she would a fly, but otherwise did not budge from her deep slumber.
Angered now by her spurning at his attempts he spoke loudly, “Okay, me had enough. Now...me yell like barbarian.”
He inhaled deeply filling his mighty and powerful lungs like a smi
th’s bellows and was just about to scream out as only a barbarian could, or would, but just as critical mass was reached a shockwave exploded all over the place...not from his mouth...it tore loose from his other end.
Vroommmm!
It was the grand ‘boo-boo’ of all farts; so stupendous, so resonating, so dreadful that even he...now a barbarian turned red with embarrassment.
It worked!
IllaryHay awoke with a start! Sitting jacked up, her face lost something of its human aspect, a nimbus of disgust played upon her features. Gagging with insufferable repugnance she came very close to hurling on herself. To make matters worse there was no breeze to speak of to disperse the President’s debarment.
She gasped and panted for a quick moment, then spilled forth some explicatives in a voice that was both husky and unwomanly, “Goddamn hoebanger, ass-licking cunt, smeg-whore!”
She caught sight of a blurry outline of a huge, ogre-looking figure standing perched over her. Terrified at the sight she threw back her head and screamed at the top of her lungs. An inhuman, siren-like trilling that would have shattered glass; it was much-too-much for the President’s ears.
A-ieee!
Quickly he covered them with his hands to keep from bursting an eardrum.
Realizing that the thing, that was IllaryHay, was reacting hopelessly insane the President high-wire walked a safe distance away.
She pressed on with her caterwauling only pausing