A God Called Bruce Pt. 01byTalemaster©
First of all an apology. I am still in the middle of writing Offspring. So far I have published 70,000 words. I need a bit of a break. Just a few days will do, other things are demanding my attention.
To make the wait more bearable I am publishing this story. It is complete and runs into 120,000 words. This time I'll put up a few chapters at a time since that seems to have been a bone of contention. By the time you read this the entire volume will be sitting in the queue waiting to be vetted and put on the site.
About the story:
A God called Bruce is about the adventures of an Australian writer who gets involved with the Gods on Olympus. He strikes up a friendship with Bruce, the Australian God of booze, barbeques and backyard dunnies (toilets). On his travels he gets to know Zeus who likes the irreverent larrikin from Aussie, especially when he starts covering for Zeus' extramarital excursions. When he finds the key to an ancient travelling system even the Gods don't understand he gains access to universes unknown to the pantheon. Here begins a journey into the unknown with help from the Gods and the loving attention of several Goddesses.
So, without further ado, I give you "A God called Bruce"
Chapter 1: I meet my Muse
I am a writer, at least that's what the taxation department reckons, and since I kind of scratch a living with my scribbles, perhaps they are right.
Four weeks ago my girlfriend had given me the flick and taken off with a footballer. I hadn't been able to write anything since. My mind was a blank. My muse had deserted me.
I had to come up with something soon though. Even my simple lifestyle needs some income to be sustainable. So, here I was, feeling sorry for myself, sitting in my backyard with a can of beer, watching a steak sizzle on the barbeque when she showed up. The pale blue diaphanous gown she wore concealed little of her features. I was so taken with her looks that I completely forgot to be surprised about her just materialising in front of me.
The colour change around the pert nipples that strained the thin fabric was clearly visible, so was the dark patch of her pubic triangle. And the legs. Oh those legs - long well formed and delicious. With so much on display it took a while before I looked at her face. Well, you can't blame a guy for getting his fill of such a landscape, it is rarely on offer and you can look at faces every time of the day. When I finally did get around to looking at her face the first thing that struck me was that amused smile; more a grin really. She was obviously amused by my staring and the effect she was having on me. She had shoulder-length raven black hair, dark eyes and pouty lips that seemed to be made for kissing. My dick was making handstands in my pants.
The girl laughed, pointed to my erection and said with a broad Australian accent: "I don't know if you like me, but your old fellow sure does."
My embarrassment knew no limits. I felt myself blushing for the first time in many years. Finally I got a grip on myself and asked: "Who are you and how did you get in here?"
"My name is Lil. I am your muse. Being a writer, I take it you know what a muse is."
"You're having me on, there is no muse called Lil. Muses have names like Clio, Calliope and Terpsichore. Even I know that."
"You're talking about those boring old Greek ones. They are still around of course, but even the Gods have to move with the times. There was no science fiction in those days, so there was no muse for it. Now there is and I am it. Lil, the muse of science fiction, at your service."
"I don't believe you."
"You're being a dreadful bore you know. I better show you then. Look at me."
Lil waved her hand and disappeared from view. I stared at the empty space with my mouth open and watched as a shadow appeared that solidified slowly into a recognisable form and became Lil once more.
"Alright, I am convinced. Why are you here?"
"Until now all you ever needed was a bit of a nudge here and there and you would write. This time I think you need a kick in the pants to get going again. I am here to deliver it."
"You seem to know everything about me, how about telling me something about yourself? Do you have a mum and dad or are you just there?"
"You're funny. Of course I have a mum and dad. Dad is Bruce, the Australian God of Booze, Barbeques and Backyard Dunnies."
"Now I know you are taking the Mickey out of me."
"Not at all. Everything on this plane of existence needs a God to look after it or it couldn't function. Someone has to be in charge. What you call laws of nature, physics, chemistry and so forth are in reality Gods. The ancients had it right, you guys are all screwed up about such things."
"Alright for the moment. What about your mum?"
"My mum is Marge, the Goddess of Hen Parties. I also have a younger brother. Jack is the Patron Saint of Dirty Ditties."
"Patron Saint of Dirty Ditties?"
"In this job females are called muses, males are called patron saints."
"This is just too weird for me to swallow, I must admit it would make a good story though."
"Don't you dare dragging my family through the tabloids. My dad would get really pissed off, and when he gets like that you don't want to be around."
She looked at me intently, especially at my erection, which was still prominently on display. Finally she pointed at it and said: "Does this thing ever go down?"
Here I went blushing again. I managed to stammer: "It's your fault. You are an extraordinarily exciting sight. How can a mere mortal resist your beauty."
"That's nice. Will you show me your dick?"
"Will you show me your dick? Well I actually want more than that. I want to see all of you. I've never seen a naked human male."
"I dunno 'bout that."
"Go on, take your clothes off, I'll take mine off too. You would be very privileged. Few Humans have ever seen a naked muse, though perhaps Lulu flashes it around a bit."
"Who's Lulu then?"
"The muse of pornography. Now, are you going to take your gear off or what?"
I wanted to see her so badly and who knows what would happen once we were both naked. I started to take my gear off, never taking my eyes off her as she moved out of her gown. She was delicious. She was very excited, I could see that. Her nipples were hard and erect. I could smell the moisture between her legs. My dick was so hard it hurt, screaming for release. We stood facing each other about six feet apart. I walked up to her and it seemed the closer I came to her the more ethereal she became. I reached out, trying to touch her but when my hand was almost there she disappeared altogether.
She was gone, leaving me standing there, naked, with my dick poking a hole into the clouds.
In frustration I yelled to the heavens: "I am not amused."
There was a giggling in the air loud and distinctive. The fence, the grass, the few plants, even the barbeque seemed to laugh at me and a voice – that voice:
"Of course you are not a muse, you idiot. I am."
Chapter 2: Call me Bruce
Days later I was sitting again on the back veranda of my small cottage in East Sydney, with a beer in my hand and a blank sheet of paper in front of me trying to write. Suddenly there was a flash and this bloke was sitting on the other side of the table. He wore shorts, thongs, a battered Akubra hat and a tee shirt with a can of Victoria Bitter on it. It had to be Bruce, the Australian God of Booze, Barbeques and Backyard Dunnies.
Before he had a chance to say or do anything I reached into the fridge, got a can of beer and put it in front of him.
"At least you got some manners, Mate. Thanks."
He popped the can and took a deep draft.
"Now what is this I hear about you flashing your prick at my daughter?"
"She just wanted to see a human body, Sir."
"I figured it was her who started it. Did she strip for you?"
"Yes, Sir." I didn't think it was advisable to lie to a God, even an ocker Aussie God.
"First of all, drop that Sir shit, call me Bruce. I hate it when they call me Your Majesty, Lord, Sir and all that bullshit. Bruce will do fine. Now tell me, did you like what you saw?"
"Very much so Si... Bruce."
"You look like a decent fellow to me. You got beer, a barbeque, even a backyard dunny. This place is like a fucking temple to me." He pointed at the toilet. "Does the dunny work?"
"Yes, it does."
"Good, get us another beer while I go for a piss."
I grabbed another couple of cans and put them on the table while Bruce did his business. I didn't know anything about Gods. This guy was just a regular Aussie bloke, the kind you find in every pub. I could handle that. I liked him.
When he got back I lit a cigarette and then tossed him the packet and the lighter just to see what he would do. He shook a fag out, lit it and leaned back with a big grin as he cracked his can.
"You know, I wouldn't have minded if you had given Lil a root. Might have made her a bit less uppity. Pity it can't be done."
"What do you mean, can't be done? I thought you guys were Gods, you could do anything."
"Almost anything, my boy. The problem is that fucker Zeus, the Top God. He stuffed that up for us."
"Well it goes back a long time. If there ever was a stickman in the universe it was Zeus. He'd get up anything. After he had a few Demigods running around he had fathered, Hera, his wife, got a bit weary. He had to do all kinds of weird shit just to get a stray root. He turned himself into a bull and screwed Europa and then into a swan so he could knock off Leda. Anyway, Hera found out about that shit too and got mightily pissed off.
"What made it worse was that all the other Gods were not much better. They were knocking off Sheilas and putting them up the duff, creating Demigods everywhere; and it wasn't just the guys. Goddesses were getting pregnant by humans and Gods were getting sloppy seconds from their wives."
"What happened then?"
"Well, Hera gave Zeus an ultimatum. In the end Zeus put a hex on us that every time we wanted to root a human and it was getting too close to actual physical contact we would fade out of the human realm. We would simply disappear for them. There were a lot of blue balls around for a while but it settled down and now there is a lot more peace at home."
"Does that mean I can't see Lil any more?"
"No, you can see her if she wants you to. You just can't screw her. If you guys get too horny all you can do is look at each other and wank. Done that a few times myself. Not very good but better than nothing."
"You guys invented cybersex. I like this. Hang on for a few minutes Bruce, I need to go across the road to get us some more beer, we're out."
Bruce waved his hand and there was a slab of beer on the table. I opened the carton to put the cans in the fridge and Bruce laughed.
"Boy, I am a God of booze. If I can conjure up a slab of beer I can fucking well keep the bastards cold without a fucking fridge. You getting hungry, Mate?"
"Yeah, let me have a look what I've got in the kitchen."
"No need." He waved his hand again and there were a couple of kangaroo fillets roasting on the barbie and an assortment of tubs with salads and side dishes on the table.
"I hope you like a bit of Skippy, Mate, haven't had any for a while. Thought this was a good occasion."
We were into can number seven or eight when we had a visitor. She wasn't accompanied by a flash or anything, she simply appeared. She looked like a more mature version of Lil, the same long legs the same pert tits and the same kissable mouth. She wasn't smiling though, she looked royally pissed off.
She started straight in on Bruce, calling him all the names under the sun and carrying on about him being on the piss again. I thought that was a good time to make myself scarce and crept into the kitchen when they weren't looking my way. Thinking that she was supposed to be the Goddess of hen parties I decided she might respond to a cup of tea and a couple of biscuits. I put everything on a small tray and went out on the veranda during a lull in the fighting.
"I thought you might like a cup of tea and a biscuit, Dear." With that I put the tray on the table and pulled a chair up next to where I was sitting. "Sit down, Darling, and have some," I said, looking her straight in the eyes.
"You must be that miscreant who tried to seduce my daughter. And, to add insult to injury, you go on the piss with my husband. God, how I despise you men."
I don't know whether it was the beer or her attitude that prompted it. Anyway, I stepped up to her, gave her a big hug, kissed her on the cheek and said: "I love you too, Darling."
She froze. She just stood there and stared at me, too stunned to say or do anything. Then Bruce started to laugh. He was howling with laughter, tears streaming down his cheeks and as he laughed and laughed Marge's features softened and a thin smile came on her lips. Her eyes that had flashed at me in anger before showed kindness and something akin to amusement. "Thank you," she whispered, sat down and poured herself some tea.
Marge turned out to be a brilliant conversationalist. She could talk with authority on any number of subjects. I was fascinated with her knowledge. Rarely had I enjoyed talking so much with anyone. She seemed to love it too. Bruce said very little, having her off his back was enough for him. It was late afternoon and the sea breezes had set in. It was getting rather cool and I was about to suggest we move indoors when a leaf blew off a tree and into Marge's hair. Without thinking I reached out to remove it, when to my surprise Marge faded out and disappeared.
Bruce started laughing again. In between bouts of laughter he said "I don't believe it. That shrivelled up prune got horny." I waited until he had worn himself out laughing and asked him what it was that he found so amusing.
"Well, you saw how she disappeared. It was when you quite innocently tried to remove the leaf from her hair. That's when Zeus' hex cut in. She must have been real horny for you, in fact her snatch would have had to be dripping for the hex to cut in like that. This will rattle her. She hasn't let any man fuck her in over three hundred years."
"But I didn't do anything," I said weakly.
"You didn't have to. Jeez, I'm going to have fun with this one. This has been the best party for centuries. You can call me any time. I better get going though."
He waved his hand and all the trash disappeared, the table and barbeque was spotless and there were five slabs of beer stacked next to the fridge.
"See you later, Boy, thanks for the party and don't forget to call. Cheerio," and he was gone.
Chapter 3: Marge plays Interior Decorator
It was about three days later when I dreamt I was lying on my back, naked, and a colony of blowflies were buzzing around my dick. The feeling was so intense that it woke me up. Except, the feeling was still there. When I managed to open and focus my eyes I saw Marge, sitting near the foot of the bed tickling my dick with a peacock feather.
"What do you think you are doing Marge?"
"I wanted to find out if there was some way to play with your dick without getting into the vapour-zone. It works, see?" With that she tickled away at that poor member of mine with renewed vigour.
"Yes, the zone where I go poof and disappear if I get too close."
"Very cute, but will you stop this shit. I am busting for a piss and if you keep this up I'll wet the bed."
I tried to get up and that's when I noticed my surroundings. I was in an enormous bedroom, done up like the thousand and one nights bedroom in a nineteenth century French brothel. All silk, satin and velvet, in red with gold trim. Expensive mirrors and fittings and priceless Persian carpets.
"Where am I? Never mind, tell me later, where is the bathroom?"
Turned out that one of the large mirrors with the elaborately carved gold leafed frame was really a door that led into a beautiful bathroom, all done out in marble, with a Jacuzzi, a glass enclosed shower as well as a toilet and bidet behind a partition. Marge had come in with me and watched me piss. Gods have no shame.
"You are still in your house," she said. I have just done a bit of redecorating."
"Where did all the space come from? This is no longer a little sandstone cottage. If the bedroom is any indication this is a fucking mansion."
"Only on the inside, from the outside it looks just the same."
"You have to put it back to what it was I can't afford to live in a place like this. I would spend my whole day cleaning up and I couldn't even get a cleaner in here without getting into trouble. The bank would foreclose because of unauthorised alterations and then make a fortune selling the joint."
"You worry too much. The house is no maintenance. It cleans itself." She went back into the bedroom and pointed to the bed. "See, the bed is already made, the carpets are clean and the dusting is done. The Gods are lazy. We had all these little things figured out a long time ago. As to the mortgage, it's paid up. The house is yours as of now."
"Why are you doing this?"
"Well, if I am going to spend a lot of time here I want to be comfortable. Come, let me show you the rest of the house."
"Can I get dressed first?"
"If you must. Your clothes are in here." Another mirror turned out to open a walk in wardrobe. My K-Mart shorts and underwear had turned into Calvin Klein, The suits were Armani, the shoes Florsheim.
I didn't even ask what she had in mind with this shit, I just put on some shorts and a tee shirt and looked for my thongs. I cursed because I couldn't find them. She grumbled something about me being like Bruce and materialised my thongs.
The second bedroom was done in a contemporary style. Everything top quality. It also had a walk in wardrobe and a similar en suite bathroom. The lounge was modern. White lacquer Italian furniture, white leather lounge and a glass topped coffee table with travertine legs. The dining room had six burgundy chairs, a large glass table and a burgundy buffet. The floors in the living areas were polished wood with Persian rugs. The kitchen was a dream. Ultra modern and functional. There was a door that led from the kitchen into a wine cellar. It was well stocked. Bruce would like this. Perhaps she had him in mind when she created it. Whatever fittings and furniture were in the house probably were worth at least ten times the price of the house.
I must say Marge has taste. I told her so and complimented her on the job. She seemed pleased with that.
"Let's have breakfast. What would you like?"
"I'd love a huge American breakfast with pancakes, maple syrup, eggs sunny side up, bacon crispy, hash browns, a sausage and a piece of steak. Orange juice and coffee, lots of coffee."
"Coming right up."
I thought she would just conjure the shit up, but she didn't. She actually went into the kitchen and started cooking. I felt a bit guilty for ordering such an elaborate meal. She didn't seem to mind though, humming a happy little tune while she was doing her work.
I sat down on my favourite table on the veranda rather than in my newly acquired dining room. Thankfully she had not changed anything in the yard or on the veranda. It was still the way it always had been. I lit a cigarette. Marge came out and brought me some coffee and went back to the kitchen.
I was very confused. On one hand having a Goddess doting on me was wonderful, but the idea of her spending a lot of time here, as she had said, scared me and pissed me off a little. I hadn't even been asked if it was okay with me. How do you argue with a God though without getting hurt? I would have to play it by ear.