Date: Fri, 24 Nov 2000 14:49:00 -0800
From: Charon Dunn-Roff <cdroff@pacbell.net>
Subject: Lost Temple of Hun-Gamin, the conclusion

	Just as the shaman's muscular, tattooed pectorals came into focus,
I felt the melange of jungle hallucinogens combined with the formidable
psychic powers of the shaman dragging me back into a world of visions.
	I suddenly found myself inside Dr. Chamberlain, but not in the
expected way, and neither was it pleasant.  It was as though I were a
passive visitor in his mind, seeing the world from his point of view.  His
former point of view I noted, realizing that this version of
Dr. Chamberlain had far superior muscle tone to the version with which I
was most familiar.  He was kneeling before the splendor of Hun-Gamin,
gazing hungrily up at the sparse blond pubes that decorated the base of
Hun-Gamin's massive phallus, which pointed directly at Dr. Chamberlain's
gaping mouth.  With a start I realized that his conception of Hun-Gamin
bore a rather strong physical resemblance to myself, except with an even
larger phallus.  And then I remembered that Hun-Gamin appears to mortals in
the guise of the sexiest male they've ever encountered, and I wondered if
Dr. Chamberlain had suffered some past heartbreak at the hands of someone
very like me.  His thoughts were not concerned with heartbreak at the
moment.  Rather, he was mostly thinking of having passionate sex with
Hun-Gamin, but underneath it were other notions.  He was pondering the
documentary with accompanying book tour, he was wondering just how many
groupies he'd be fondling a year from now, he was gleefully imagining the
reactions of all his past lovers to his newfound fame.  He had clearly
decided that the sheer commercial potential behind his discovery of a
closely guarded male sex cult that had existed peacefully in the rainforest
since antiquity merited his emergence from the closet.  Further, he was
thinking of hiring Hun-Gamin lookalikes to recreate the sensation of this
initiation for well heeled tourists, a thought that caused my nostrils to
flare.  How dare he profane this sacredness in the name of his sleazy
materialistic desires?
	Hun-Gamin's expression echoed my sentiments.  He stared scornfully
down at Dr. Chamberlain, and the massive phallus slowly went down,
shrinking until it was the size of a jalapeno pepper.  At that moment I
felt a raw blast of frustration from Dr. Chamberlain, and that outburst of
emotion seemed to attract something shadowy that lurked at the foot of the
mountain.  I stepped back in a panic, unnerved by this thing, and lost my
footing.  I found myself plummeting over the side, too terrified to scream.
	And then I was back in the temple, and the first bloom of dawn was
creeping through the cracks in the stone.  All around me were naked, sweaty
men.  Some had collapsed in exhaustion, others were locked in various kinds
of embrace.  A lone drummer kept a steady beat.  Warm hands found my
shoulders, and I felt the shaman's presence behind me.
 	I jumped to my feet, filled with sudden horror.  "How long have I
been dreaming?"
	The shaman rolled his eyes.
	"Only since last night," Dwin-Ge giggled, collapsing against my
shoulder.  "Lightweight."
	"No."  The shaman said in a very raspy voice.  "Not a lightweight.
He has passed the test."
	Dwin-Ge squealed and kissed me enthusiastically before running off
to gossip, and I rubbed my eyes, facing the shaman.  "I did?"
	"You did not sell out to your base desires," the shaman whispered.
	"Soon it will be too late!"  Vague visions of Club Het intruded on
my thoughts.  "We have to get into town and disrupt that meeting!"
	The shaman clapped his hands three times.  Everyone still capable
of standing crowded over, forming a ring of firm male flesh around us.
"The initiate has earned the favor of Hun-Gamin.  Now, he says we must go
to town."
	"As quickly as possible," I added.
	"Aah!"  Muscles grunted, stepping forward.  "Shall we use the - "
	The shaman nodded.
	Muscles grinned and whispered to a few of the men, and they headed
off toward the back of the temple.  Moments later they came back with a
Gucci duffel bag, straining under its weight, their thighs tense and the
ridged muscles of their abdomens standing out in relief.  They dumped it in
front of the shaman and Muscles opened it, revealing a series of clear
plastic bags containing a white, powdery substance.  Muscles tossed several
of these into the crowd.
	Moments later, all the men were wide awake and ready to march.
	We were a splendid sight, striding through the rainforest in a long
column, clad only in loincloths.  I, of course, was still painted various
colors from my previous adventure.  I also was now wearing the skin of a
jaguar wrapped around my hips.  Oh dear.  Those are endangered.
	"That one was actually killed by the former owner of the duffel
bag," the shaman hissed beside me.  "He accompanies it now, in the
afterlife."
	"Well, that makes me feel worlds better."  I accepted a sip of
water from a gourd the shaman extended.  "Look, we're going into town to
try to stop Dr. Chamberlain.  He's sold out the temple to a huge
corporation that's going to turn it into a living hell."
	"Roger."  The shaman spat.  "That is only his former name.  For
some time he has been possessed by an evil spirit.  It has been lazy and
corrupt until recently, preferring to lie around masturbating in the shade.
Now it is determined to destroy us all."
	"Do people frequently become possessed by evil spirits around
here?"  I inquired nervously.
	"He failed the test," the shaman rasped. "The one you have just
passed.  On his way down from the mountain he was overtaken by a creature
that calls itself Haqt.  Without the protection of Hun-Gamin, he lost the
battle, and now Haqt feeds on his soul."
	"It sounds unpleasant."  I shuddered despite the heat of the
jungle.  Muscles, marching by my side, offered me the clear plastic bag
again.  When I declined he shrugged and buried his face in it.
	We marched for a long time, but our pace was excellent, and soon we
emerged on the white sandy beach just south of Club Het.  As we entered
from beachside, I saw that the oceanward façade was built to resemble an
Aztec pyramid.  This particular one was based on a shrine to
Huitzilopochtli, the god of death.  Some of my tribesmen also noticed the
resemblance and began muttering amongst themselves.  Then, in the bushes to
my right, I noticed a sudden blur of motion.  A hummingbird.  I stopped to
study it, fascinated.
	"Also an emblem of Huitzilopochtli," the shaman rasped.
	"Thanks."  I straighted up and continued toward the beach, passing
a sign warning against trespassing that was decorated with skulls and
crossbones, and a lifeguard wearing a Grateful Dead t-shirt.  I'll admit I
was becoming a bit bored with the portents of doom, and was glad when we
reached the first layer of plastic beach chairs.
	Suddenly, a line of bullets ripped through the sand several feet in
front of mine.  I froze in my tracks, and the Hun-Gamin behind me did
likewise, with the exception of Muscles, who wasn't paying attention.  He
was caught in the second line of bullets.
	I looked upward at the pyramid and noted several Club Het employees
dressed in their characteristic crisp uniforms had appeared from various
concealed openings armed with automatic rifles.
	"No tresspassing!"  An amplified voice warned, in four different
languages.
	"Turn back," I shouted, and the Hun-Gamin immediately obeyed me,
filling me with a temporal rush of power.  Together with the shaman, I
grabbed Muscles, who was still alive but not by much, and dragged him along
to safety.
	Which turned out to be the bar.  By this time several of us were
carrying Muscles as the Shaman followed behind, chanting.  We laid him on
the pool table, and the Shaman grabbed me by the biceps and looked me in
the eye.  "I have to stay, to help him.  Do you think you can fight a
demon?"
	I straightened my spine, my eyes filling with tears at the sight of
Muscles' agony.  "I shall endeavor to do so."
	He leaned forward and kissed me passionately, exploring the inside
of my mouth with his pierced tongue, and I felt something invisible
transfer between us.  Then he tore himself away and put his hands on
Muscles' shoulders, resuming his chanting.  I was about to call for a
doctor when I noticed a faint green light seeping from the Shaman's hands
and entering Muscles' flesh.
	Right.  This was no time for logic.
	"Ey, what kinda bar do you think this is?"  I felt a rough hand on
my shoulder and I groaned inwardly.  I had a demon to fight, and I
certainly didn't have time to waste with an unwashed biker.  A familiar
biker, however, I realized as I turned around.
	"Did you hit Wal Mart?"  It was obvious that he had, as he was
wearing brand new hiking boots with large logos on the toes, and a Pokemon
t-shirt with the sleeves recently ripped off to reveal his well toned arms.
He recognized me and broke into a grin.
	"Amigo!  You and your friends are welcome here."
	"Have you still got the plastic?"  I held out my hand and he
produced the battered credit card from the pocket of his sweaty leather
vest.  "Good fellow.  Would you see that nobody bothers my friends until I
come back?"
	He nodded affirmatively and I gestured at the Hun-Gamin, who were
making quite a crowd in this little bar.  "Follow me, men!"
	We marched on Wal Mart, where we bought the entire stock of pleated
khaki trousers and golf shirts.  Some of the Hun-Gamin looked rather odd,
with their facial jewelry and tattoos and dreadlocks, and Dwin-Ge had a
seizure when forced into this apparel.  We got him into a pair of hand
woven pink and purple trousers I purchased from a woman selling them
outside the Wal Mart, and I felt a pang of envy.  With a heavy sigh I
pulled out the backpack full of cheap cell phones I'd charged to
Dr. Chamberlain and handed them around, then showed the men how to flip
them open and mutter intently.
	In this fashion we marched on Club Het, where I told them we were a
software design company having a convention (and mentioned that our IPO was
taking place next week, with a big wink).  The clerk looked solemnly at my
army of khaki clad warriors chattering into their phones and then gave us a
conference room with a fax machine and a DSL port, and threw in all the
coffee we could drink.
	The conference room was near the top of the pyramid, on the
seventeenth floor.  This floor contained four conference rooms.  There was
an eighteenth floor.  Using some of the methods the Shaman had taught me, I
quickly discerned that it contained one conference room, and right now that
conference room was full of men.  And one man possessed by a demon.  They
were right on top of us.  For now.
	"Wait here," I told them as I slipped into the elevator after the
Club Het personnel had left us with a coffee urn and several sparkling
water pitchers.  I ascended to eighteen and found it did indeed contain one
conference room, and an elevator lobby decorated with fearsome Aztec
murals.  A lone woman sat in this lobby, speaking in hushed tones on a
small pink cell phone.  She jumped as the elevator bell rang, turning
around.  I recognized her immediately by the scar on her shoulder.
Mrs. Dahl.
	She clicked the phone closed and stared at me appraisingly.  I did
my best to radiate shamanic calm.  "They say that three days to the south
of here there is a temple sacred to the goddess.  No men are allowed
there."
	"The Lost Temple of She Who Must Not Be Objectified!"  Mrs. Dahl
stood up, surprised.  "You know where it is?"
	"I have connections," I informed her.
	She flipped open the cellphone and hit star sixty-nine.  "Juana?
It's me.  I've got the cash in my makeup bag, and I've just found our
escape."
	"Go to the cantina in town," I directed.  "There you will find a
man who is about seven feet tall, very muscular, covered with tattoos and
piercings.  Tell him Smythe sent you, and that you and Juana need an escort
to the other temple."
	She pressed several things into my hand.  "Card key to the
conference room, card key to my husband's room, AmEx, Visa, Discover and
Diner's Club.  I've got the toll free emergency cancellation numbers in my
Palm Pilot, so you've got about seventy-two hours before he figures it
out."
	"Madam, do I understand correctly in assuming that you are
undermining the Cargospresso plant project?"
	"Damn straight."  She smiled at me.  "I've got all the funding
right here."
	"Bless you."  I looked into her eyes, very sincerely, and hoped
that the blessing of a priest of Hun-Gamin might possibly provide something
in which she were interested.
	"Juana are going to go somewhere and get a little house, where we
can have cats.  Maybe in the rainforest."  Her eyes grew misty for a
moment, then she snapped out of it.  "Later.  Gotta run."
	"I'll share your elevator," I said, pushing the button.
	The men had found a convenient display case full of bolas and
obsidian encrusted war clubs and blowguns.  They had stripped back down to
their loincloths during my brief absence.  After a moment I considered that
they looked much better in loincloths than they did in Wal Mart khakis.
However, I did raise an objection to the weapons.  These suits had been
effectively disarmed.  All they had left were their laptops.
	It took several elevator trips to transport everybody to the top
floor, and once we were all assembled, I gently slid the card key into the
receptacle.  The door opened.
	Dr. Chamberlain, or rather, the demon Haqt, was sitting at the head
of the table.  He was smiling photogenically, wearing an Armani khaki
shirt.  I was very glad we hadn't worn our Wal Mart.  Ken Dahl was next to
him, gazing at him rapturously.  Around the table sat several other suits,
looking quite pleased at the distraction.  All of them male, affluent, with
gym toned bodies and bored expressions.  Behind them, plate glass windows
revealed we were indeed at the top of the pyramid.
	This would be simple.
	"Put down the weapons," I hissed to the Hun-Gamin in their
language.  Instead they brandished them in a threatening fashion.  I shook
my head and took a deep breath, willing the presence of Hun-Gamin.
	"Dude!  'Ssup?"  He spoke from just behind my shoulder.  "Whoa.
Let's have some fun with the suits."
	"First I need you to help me with that demon."  I pointed.  Now
that Hun-Gamin was with me, Dr. Chamberlain looked altogether different.
His eyebrows were pointier and more evil, and his carefully manicured nails
looked more like talons.
	"Takes a lot of energy to drop a demon."  He cleared his throat.
"Stand back."
	Of a sudden I felt warm.  Perspiration gathered on my bare torso,
where previously my nipples had been standing hard due to the air
conditioning.  I also began to feel quite aroused, though of the variety
where you're too lazy to do anything about the fact.  I noticed that the
men standing immediately around me were also becoming aroused.  This was
difficult to conceal in a loincloth.  And the nearest of the suits were
also perspiring, and shifting in their seats.
	As further waves of lust emanated from me, the suit sitting nearest
me suddenly ripped the buttons from his shirt in his haste to remove it,
revealing a thin cotton undershirt.  The suit next to him was wriggling out
of his loafers, just before sliding out of his trousers and disclosing a
particularly loud pair of Joe Boxers.
	The Hun-Gamin knew what to do.
	At first they did it with each other, with hands, and tongues, and
lips.  At first the suits, in various states of undress, merely watched,
some idly stroking themselves.  Dahl's eyes were tightly shut.  The demon
Haqt was scowling.
	Then the first suit offered himself up to the savages.  He was
young, with short dark hair and flawless skin, resembling a movie actor I'd
once had a crush on.  He approached a Hun-Gamin with nipple length
dreadlocks and a sleek muscular build.  The suit gazed happily at this
apparition, dropping to his knees and looking up to ask permission.
	My tribesman gathered his rigid flesh into his right hand and
thrust it out proudly.  With his left hand he caressed the young suit's
smooth cheek.  The suit opened his mouth and enveloped the glistening head,
and then, much of the shaft.
	The next suit was a little bolder.  He had red hair, and gingery
freckles all over his torso, and an angry thatch of pubic density from
which grew a pale white stalk.  He offered this to the Hun-Gamin, and one
stepped forward to grab it.
	Before long the conference room was a veritable sea of carnal
delights.  Seconds after I had entered all of the suits had disrobed
(except one, who was clad only in a tie, and another one who was tied up
with his own suspenders, and Dahl, whose eyes were still shut tight).
	"Clever," Dr. Chamberlain growled.  He gestured at one of the plate
glass windows and it broke, quite theatrically, the pieces of glass flying
outwards.  Moving more like a deformed macaque than like a man, he slipped
through it, climbing to the stone pyramid steps outside.
	Being young, and athletic, and foolish, I gave chase.
	He climbed to the very top of the pyramid, and there we stood, upon
a crude approximation of Hun-Gamin's mountain.  Except this time we were at
a sleazy postcolonial resort, and instead of facing a handsome youthful
pizza delivery guy I was instead standing across from something out of a
low budget horror movie.
	It snarled, revealing impractically big fangs.  And it sprang at
me, but I dodged to the side, and it stopped short to keep from continuing
off the side of the pyramid.  We circled warily.  I was dimly aware of
Hun-Gamin's lust rays still pouring through my flesh, and I could hear the
cries and moans below me.  I longed to be there.
	But instead I was at an impasse. Chamberlain was moving tirelessly,
a feint to the left, a steady progression to the right.  He was larger, and
had those fangs.  He could hurt me, if he got close enough.  Eventually I
would become careless, I would miss one of his moves, and - there it was.
He pounced, tackling me and landing on my chest.  He pressed himself
against me, enjoying the fact that I was engorged.
	"No," I whispered.
	"Raping you is one thing."  Haqt's breath was noxious, and he was
exhaling directly in my face.  "What I'm really trying to do here is like
rape on a different level.  If you share Hun-Gamin's power, I can obtain it
through you, even if I can't acquire it directly.  The Shaman was foolish
enough to help you survive the ordeal, then he threw you directly into my
arms."
	My own arms suddenly flexed.  They had become marked with varying
tattoos, and sheathed in round muscle.  They were the Shaman's arms, and
with them I easily pushed Haqt off my chest.  He nearly fell over the edge
but caught himself with his talons.
	"I believe it is time for a respite," the Shaman said, and I
suddenly found myself alone with him, on a wide tree branch some distance
from the ground.  "I'm much more effective in a fight if I don't have to
worry about my body."
	"I've always found your body tremendously effective," I said
reverently.  He smiled and stroked my cheek.  Then his large fingers were
running through my hair.  I wanted him intensely.
	For a moment I wondered if I wanted him because he wanted me, and
he had magical powers that would make me want him.  Then I discarded all of
this as being too confusing and simply responded, because I wanted him very
much.  I put my palms on his cheeks and kissed him reverently.  He pulled
me against him, arranging me on his lap.  I writhed against him, feeling a
deep comfort as I pressed against his chest.  I spread my legs open and
felt the familiar intrusion as he searched for the right alignment.  Since
this was a consensual two person sex fantasy, of course, I was magically
well lubricated and relaxed, and my clothes had disappeared, and I was
ready for him.
	I sank down, engulfing him to the hilt, and I sighed, feeling very
safe as he filled me.  He thrust his hips up, very slowly, and the visions
began to take me, but this time the Shaman held completely still.  I
waited, frozen in the moment, until it became intensely frustrating, and I
tried to move against him, but my body didn't seem to respond.
	"Calm.  Breathe evenly," he said softly.  "Concentrate all your
life force in your lower spine."
	I struggled to maintain my focus, doing what he directed, until it
seemed my entire pelvic region was on fire.  I had never been this aroused
in my life.  The Shaman chuckled, his voice resonating in my ears.  His
fingers closed around my stiff prick, his pinky sliding delicately through
a bubble of precum.  I gasped, having forgotten to breathe.
	"Now."  The Shaman kissed my forehead gently.  "If I take you to
this place, you will have the strength to defeat Haqt, and a thousand like
him.  Petty demons, that feed on abuse of power, and manipulation.  But
there is always the chance that you might become one of them, and I might
have to destroy you myself, which would grieve me, for I have come to love
you. With the power goes responsibility.  Misuse it and you will long for a
quick death."
	I hesitated for the briefest of moments before kissing him back,
passionately.  I felt myself start to erupt just as he began to throb
within me.  I opened my eyes and gazed into his, and I felt something
transfer between us as I erupted over his hard belly, coating him in my
juices, as his own pumped into me.
	And then I was back on top of the pyramid, shaking my head, dazed,
willing the power to do SOMETHING to prevent my untimely demise.  Just as
the demon pounced toward me I recovered my senses, and rolled to the side,
then jumped to my feet. Suddenly behind me I noticed the unmistakeable
sound of rotor blades. The demon missed me and nearly went over the side,
catching itself at the last possible instant. Something landed on my
shoulder.  A rope ladder.
	I seized it and felt myself hoisted into the air.  It was a small
helicopter, with only two seats.  The pilot was wearing sunglasses.  He'd
also apparently gotten his Ricky Martin phase out of his system, as
passionate classical guitar music was pounding through a set of subwoofers
that were nearly as loud as the rotor blades.
	The demon snarled below me, leaping for my ankle.  Its claws sank
in deep and I winced.  Then I remembered the Shaman's teaching, and I
summoned up all the life force in my body, concentrating it in my left
ankle.  And it seemed there was much more life force this time.  The demon
Haqt shrieked pitifully and loosened its grasp.  I kicked it and dislodged
it, watching as it plummeted into a swimming pool built to resemble
precolumbian ruins that had been closed for maintenance, its broken body
lying across a cement Olmec head.
	Then I made my way up into the helicopter.  Below me, the Hun-Gamin
were surging out of the lobby, cheering, followed by several suits and Club
Het personnel who could be identified by their corporate haircuts and the
last remnants of their uniforms.
	"Joao, I didn't know you had a helicopter."
	"One of my toys, from the old days."
	"How did you know I'd need you?"
	He peered at me over his sunglasses.  "I dreamed it, last night.
You are in most of my dreams."
	He returned his attention to the helicopter, heading it back toward
town and landing it outside the cantina, scaring a goat that had been
grazing out front.
	The Shaman came out to meet us, followed by Muscles, who was only
limping slightly.  I fell into his arms.  "I'm home," I said weakly.
	"You are home."  The Shaman stroked my hair.
	 I shivered.  "I'm afraid of it.  Part of me wants to run off to a
small town and hide, occasionally popping out at happy hour to impress the
locals and bed the more attractive youths."
	The Shaman stroked my cheek.  "The rest of your life will be
complicated.  You can't escape that fact.  Try to hide, it will find you."
	"I'm in love with you," I admitted.  "But you would never be happy
in my world."
	He nodded thoughtfully.  "We come from different realities.  Stay
here with me for a time and we can build one that will suit us both"
	Somebody handed me a drink with an umbrella and a pineapple slice
in it.  The rest of the tribe, along with their new acolytes, had arrived.
Dwin-Ge had taken over the karaoke machine.  Joao passed me a joint.  The
Shaman rubbed my shoulders affectionately.
	Fuck college.  I was home.