Nowhere Man, Book One. - Cover

Nowhere Man, Book One.

Copyright© 2018 by Gordon Johnson

Chapter 8

Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 8 - My take on the man displaced through time/alternate worlds/whatever. The hero arrives naked, almost defenceless, with no memory of his past. How does he cope, and why is he there?

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/ft   Consensual   Rape   Heterosexual   Science Fiction   Far Past   Time Travel   Humiliation   Sadistic   Polygamy/Polyamory  

John finally understood. This was a mother trying to do what she could for her children and sister; getting no help from the tribe, totally on her own. She was an extremely strong woman to manage what she did.

A bell rang in his head: this is a woman who has the right values for her life. She is worth encouraging.

He opened his arms, and she dashed into them, tears flooding her cheeks. Her whole body shuddered as she wept. The tears were tears of relief, now that her children and her sister were safe.

John held her gently, allowing her to go through this catharsis. The sister, Deelia, watched without a word, her niece and nephew holding on to her. The elder child looked up at her.

“Aunt Deelia, why is Mummy crying?”

Deelia patted the child’s head. “Mummy is very glad to find you safe. She is happy that all of us are now safe. Sometimes knowing that, at last, your child, or your mummy is safe, when they weren’t before, can be very overwhelming.”

“Oh. She is happy because that man has stopped hurting you?”

This made Deelia realise that, though young, the children were noticing important items.

“Yes. Very much so. I am very happy that the bad man is dead. Do you know what that word means? Dead?”

“Not here any more?”

“In a way. The body is still here, but there is no-one in it any more, so it is like a lump of stone. No life in it. Bad men deserve to be without life, child. Remember that.”

Feelia had stopped crying, so John took her by the shoulders, and held her out from him as he spoke.

“Feelia, would you and Deelia and your children like to come and join a tribe where men and women and children are all valuable people? Where men and women are treated the same? Where a woman can learn to use weapons and defend her family?”

“If such a tribe existed, I would love to be part of it, but there is no tribe like that anywhere, John.”

“There is now. My tribe is growing and learning, and slowly becoming powerful. I think you would fit into it. A woman like your sister, who put up with sexual abuse to protect children; her bravery deserves recognition, and my tribe will value her bravery. We call it John’s Tribe, but it is a fair trek from here. If you want to join us, I must prepare a travois for each adult to pull, to carry the children who are too young to walk such long distances.”

“A travois? What is that?”

“A piece of equipment made with several long sticks, with skins stretched across to carry things and children. I will demonstrate by making one and showing you. One cannot sneak through the forest with a loaded travois, but where trails exist, it will help immensely.”

“Show me, but after I speak with my children.”

“That makes good sense, Feelia.”

She went over to her sister, knelt down, and gathered her two children into her arms. “Mummy loves you, children. When these bad men took you and Aunt Deelia away, I had to come and find you, to take you home.”

“That is nice, Mummy. I knew you would do what you could do find us,” said the elder. The younger simply stared at his mother, drinking in her comforting presence.

John set to, selecting straight branches that did not taper much, and cutting them to the length he needed. He required six, minimum, for the long arms, so he cut seven to allow for a spare, then a few more shorter ones for the pushing crossbars. Heaving them back into the clearing, he looked for material to secure between the poles, and something to tie the poles with. The bad guys had what was effectively a back pack, but roughly held together, so easy to take apart. John dismantled it, and thought he could make two carrying pieces out of it. He tested out wrapping one edge round a pole, then using his dagger to pierce holes though both layers. Using a thinner stick, he threaded it from hole pair to hole pair, in and out like a needle, but leaving the inserted needle to act like a thread holding things together.

It seemed to work, so he repeated this at the other side, leaving him with the tops to get tied together, then selected cross pieces for support near the top and for pushing. In order to prevent the legs coming together, he picked up two sticks to act as crossbars just below where the skin was stretched, and tied these into position. Finally he stepped inside the structure and worked out where he would stand to push ahead, so that was where the pushing bar was needed. This was much shorter than the other cross-piece, but would need a better tie-down, for this would take most of the pressure.

He soon had this completed, and told his two watchers, “You two can start making one each. It we run out of skins, we can tie in more crosspieces where the load is to be carried, and fasten some brushwood and grass on top to act as the carry skin. This is a ‘sort-it-out-as-you-go’ experiment, girls, so make the best you can with the available materials.”

By now they had the general idea, and got started. There was a shortage of thongs for tying, so John looked for strong long thin whippy leaves to act as ties. These could be tied several times if there was enough material, each layer helping to support the others.

It took a long while, but eventually they had three travois, and the loads were distributed.

The two youngest children went on one travois, one of the three other boys went on the second, and another boy went on the third.

John explained to the boys that one of them would walk for a while, until he was tired; then he would swap with one being carried, and when he got tired, he would swap with the third boy. As he tired, he would switch with the first one to walk, and so on; and thus it would mean that each boy only walked about a third of the time, getting a decent rest in between.

They moved off, with John in the lead, re-using the trail made by the dead men. The travois was not too wide most of the time, but where necessary, John either got his charges to hold tight as he tilted the frame, or moved round the offending obstacle.

At one point Feelia, who was following in second place, called to John to stop. As he watched, she laid down her travois and moved to one side to collect parts of a plant she had spotted. She handed the foliage and flowers to her sister, saying, “The best herb for stopping pregnancy, Deelia.”

Her sister took the herbs, instructed her charge to look after it carefully, and hugged her sister. “Thank you, Feelia. That was thoughtful of you.”

They returned to their single file trek through the forest. John twigged that something about that plant would be a contraceptive herb, saving the abused woman from being pregnant by her rapist. John approved, and his estimate of Feelia went up again.

On arrival at their home clearing, they were confronted by Gomla again. She was ready and waiting with her spear in a threatening position until she saw John.

“Oh, it is you. Where the hell have you been, my man?”

“By gosh, you are talking like a wife already, Gomla! I have brought two ladies and two children to join our tribe. Be nice to them, woman.”

“Yes, my man. What are their names, O lord and master?”

John burst into laughter. “Stop it, Gomla; that is too much. The lady with the two children is called Feelia, and the other lady is her sister, who was captured with the children. Feelia set out to rescue them, without any weapon. I merely helped her. We also have three boys who had been stolen from their tribe. They may fit better in ours.”

Gomla was watching the women as he said this, and saw their disbelief.

“Merely helped her?” She laughed, adding, “Of course, that would be the case. Bring them all in, and we can give them some food and drink until they recover. Numa will want to interrogate them at that stage. What happened about your hunt?”

He suddenly remembered his two ‘deer’. “Oh, damn it. I had two deer. They are probably still hanging where I left them. I’ll see if I can find them again.”

He turned abruptly, leaving Gomla to deal with the visitors. She apologised to them for her man’s behaviour, and led them up to the cave.

It took John over an hour, but he located his kills untouched, and pulled them down from the tree branch. Weighing them up, he took his dagger and eviscerated them to reduce the weight. The scavengers could have the spilled guts; he only wanted the meat.

Thanking himself for his tree marking, he was soon back home with his delayed prize, handing it over to the girls who were on today’s cooking duty: Gerva and Gimla, his two younger concubines. They checked the hides first, decided they were acceptable for skinning, and thanked John for the game he had brought.

“We were running out of skins, John, so these are welcome.”

Running out of skins? John wondered about this, then noticed the girls’ feet: they were wearing moccasins!

“I must do something about that tomorrow, girls. How do you find these foot coverings? Comfortable to wear?”

Gimla offered, “Truthfully, they felt very odd and uncomfortable at first, but we are starting to get used to them. They do protect the soles of your feet from sharp stones, though.”

“That is one of the reasons for having them, girls.”

He went off to see if he could test some of the new soap: he felt sweaty after all that trekking, and by the smell of them, his new arrivals could do with a good wash as well. That had better wait until he could provide a good soap. He looked for Numa, to ask her about that, but almost walked into Sheila, who grabbed his arm.

“John, I am going crazy with wondering how and why I am here. Am I here to provide companionship on a par with your former life, or am I here for fucking? Or am I here for no reason at all?”

“Sheila, my dear, you are doing what you should NOT do. You are over-analysing your situation. Just accept that you are here, for whatever reason or for no reason, and live your life the way YOU want to live it. Consider it as freedom to do whatever you want in the circumstances you find yourself.

That’s the way I am treating it.

We may in practice have been dumped into an open prison, but it is a prison with possibilities for an interesting life, and certainly a prison with the possibilities of fun. You chose to have sex with me; nobody forced you. The same applies with all my women: they are my women because they decided to be my women. I admit that a lot of it started as tribal mores and historical background, but as far as I can make out, they now actually love me, and I find that I love them. Damn it, I also find that I love you, too. THAT is the craziest aspect of whatever happened to us. For some crazy reason, we are all becoming a family rather than a tribe. I find I want to love you and have children with you, and the same goes with the other girls who have attached themselves to me, whether as wives or concubines. Now explain that to me, and I will be forever in your debt – whatever I mean by debt!”

Sheila told him,”Debt, to my mind, has a flavour of obligation, but no exact meaning. Just treat it as obligation, and we can live with it. Many words that I know to speak, these have similar connotations. There is a basic meaning flavour attached to the word, but not the background, the surrounding meanings, that they should have in my estimation.”

John nodded his head sagely. “I would agree with that. It is as if we have come from a place with a background of much more depth, but that background is lacking in our minds here. We have no way of knowing what that background is, so just live with it. My martial abilities are much the same as words: my body knows what to do, but my mind cannot or will not tell me why I can do these things. Treading stealthily through the trees and undergrowth must be a learned talent, but I have it ingrained in me. I find I can kill my enemies with no compunction, so again I have probably been trained to do so; where and when, and how, I have no idea. I simply accept it and use it to help build my tribe.

Can you see what I am getting at?”

“I suppose I do. Does that suggest that I have some abilities that I can use to advantage, just like you?”

“That may be true. Broaden your outlook beyond fucking me – nice though that is – and basic tribal chores. Think about what your body, and your mind, tells you that you can do. Find within you what talents you have that will improve our tribe, Sheila.”

“Hmmm ... I’ll have a think about that, husband.”

John leaned over to kiss her, and she happily accepted the kiss. John went on to find Numa.

She was at the back of the cave, allocating sleeping places for the three kidnapped boys. Seeing John coming, she stood up and waited for him to come to her.

“John, these boys do not know what tribe they were taken from; to them it was just ‘the tribe’, so it looks like we are stuck with taking them into our tribe.”

“I am fine with that, Numa my love. It will be good to have some young men to train into hunters and suchlike. What about the others?”

“Once they are cleaned up, the women will be quite useful, I think. Did you have any plans for either or both women?”

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead, Numa. I just found myself joining Feelia in tracking the kidnappers, and everything went on from there; then coming back we were busy with all the children: all of them boys! We will not be short of men in the future, but we shall see what your children turn out to be: boys or girls.”

“You will want strong sons, John.”

“If I have such, I will be happy, but if I get strong and healthy daughters, that will make me just as happy, Numa.”

As they spoke, Feelia came up to them. She spoke to John.

“As our rescuer, Chief John, I am available to you now. Deelia must wait until she is treated for her defilement.”

John looked in amazement as Feelia got down on her hands and knees and raised her buttocks high, presenting her sex to him. To her amazement and horror, John smacked her bottom and told her to stand up again.

“Feelia, you have not understood what happened back there. YOU tracked the enemy and worked with me to rescue your children and your sister, so you have no obligation towards me; neither you nor your sister. You were the brave one who set out on the rescue mission. I was merely your assistant.”

“But you killed these men for me, so you were the rescuer!”

“Feelia, if a chief sends his men to do something, and they do it, was the Chief the one who did it? No, but he was in charge, so he gets the credit.”

“Well, but...”

“But you planned and sent me to do your attacking for you, so in these circumstances, you were the chief and I was your tribesman, doing what you wanted done. Yours is the credit.”

She was completely stunned at John’s description of the attack on the kidnappers, making her the hero and not him as she had assumed.

As it sank in, she saw John in a new light, and jumped into his arms to kiss him hungrily.

She pulled back to tell him, “You deserve a reward, any way you like to present our efforts.”

“If you want sex with me, Feelia, you must first get cleaned up, as must I.”

He turned back to his chief wife.

“Numa, what is the state of our soap-making activity?”

“The hard one has been tested and will do for the moment, for our personal use. It is a bit harder than the ones Sheila brought to us, so I want to see if we can improve the quality for trade purposes. Sheila thinks we should include a flower scent, to make it smell even better. The one for hair washing is satisfactory as it is, so we have noted the ... formla? ... for that.”

“Formula, is the word. I am pleased at such preliminary success, Numa; say ‘well done’ to all our soap workers.”

“The other matter I have to report on is the foot coverings. We have tested out several ways of making these, and several of the girls are wearing them to see how durable they are. We don’t want to spend a lot of time making them, if they are going to fall apart in a day or two. The ones I am wearing seem fairly comfortable, once your feet get used to being wrapped up!”

“The part of the moccasin that touches the ground under the foot? That part could be made more durable by fixing another layer below it, using a harder and thicker skin. How would you fix it?” John queried.

“If it is harder leather, it will be difficult to sew, but we might be able to stick it on, using one of the glues that I learned about as a child.”

“Oh, yes. Is that the stinky stuff?”

“It is. Someone told me it was a fish glue. Why do you think the children got the job of preparing it in a pot over a fire? None of the adults wanting to be around the stink, but children can be forced into that job. John, we should not ask our children to do that job in our tribe. The task should be shared around among the adults.”

“A very wise attitude, Numa. I shall leave it to you to organise that work, until we can get a better glue.”

Numa was willing to take on that responsibility. It required a tough lady to do the job, and she reckoned she was tough enough.

She reminded John, “These newcomers need to be washed, in order to assimilate into our tribe. How do you see that being done, dear?”

“Ah, let me think.” He pondered for a moment then came out with: “If we have sufficient soap available, wash all the children first. Once the new ladies see it being done, they will want to take over, so that they can wash themselves as well without appearing to be following our instructions.”

Numa told him, “Based on how we all felt after getting a wash with soap, I am sure the newcomers will take to it as well. I am going to say that our soap will become a great trade item in future. If we can get a continuing operation of manufacturing moccasins, that will become popular as well. Any other ideas for trading, husband?”

“I will have to think about that, Numa. Most of the easy things, such as the travois or the wicker fish traps, are also easily copied, so would not be a trade item for long. We need to find something that we can supply and that most other tribes would like to have. Do all of the tribes know about that contraceptive plant that Feelia and Deelia knew about?”

“I am not sure. Plants are often restricted in where they can be found, so that one tribe may know about these in their locality, whereas others may not know about them at all. I wonder if Sheila knows, wherever she came from?”

She wandered off without another word, leaving John with his mouth open. He shrugged. Your woman ends up treating you like the furniture, he thought. Numa has reached that point early; it must mean something.

She quickly returned with Sheila. “I told Sheila we wanted to talk over a point, but I haven’t said what. Please explain it again, husband.”

John retold the story of Feelia spotting a plant on the away here, and cutting it to give to her sister. “She explained it had a use as a contraceptive medicine, to stop her getting pregnant from her now dead sexual abuser. We wondered if you knew about such plants, Sheila?”

A smile lit up Sheila’s face.

“I know now, John!” She explained she was not talking about that plant, but about John’s suggestion that she had some unrevealed talent. It had come into her mind as John was talking. “I know about plants! I mean, I know about plants in general, not about one specific plant. If the plants here are similar to those of home – wherever that is – I should be able to say that this plant should be good for this ailment, and that plant should be good for making a herbal tea. That assumes that the plants here are the same as the ones I am used to.”

John was delighted to hear this.

“So you might be able to walk around and identify plants that should be useful for us in a number of ways? Even if they are not the exact plant, some tests should show whether or not the plant is similar enough to act in the same way. Sheila, do you know Tea and Coffee? Do they mean the same to you as to me?”

“I think so,” she spoke hesitantly. “Beverages, I believe. Coffee always hot, tea sometimes hot, sometimes cold.”

“Pardon?” Exclaimed John. “Tea is always drunk hot!”

Sheila regarded him like a mother viewing her child. “In some countries it is drunk hot; in other countries it is drunk cold, John.”

“Really?” he was astonished. “Cold tea? Yeuch!”

Sheila told him, “It is like spirits: some folk love them, others hate them. It depends on the individual, and the habits of that society. We haven’t found tea or coffee yet, have we?”

John admitted, “No. I am not expert enough to be able to identify the bushes that bear the leaves or berries. Are you?”

“Of course! Any botanist can tell what such bushes look like, but they have to be harvested correctly. The coffee beans are the seeds inside the coffee cherry, and the best quality tea leaves are those at the tip of the shoots.”

“So you will know about the contraceptive plant?”

“THE plant? There are dozens which have been used widely. In some it is the root, in others, the leaves or the bark. There are plenty to choose from.” Sheila was expounding passionately and extensively until she realised what she was saying. “Good grief! I know all that? I seem to be an expert on plants; I had no idea.”

John laughed at her discovery.

“It is just like me. I worked out that I must have been a military man, quite expert at my job, just from what I seem to know and am able to do. I have no idea where that was, and what my position was, or anything like that, but my talent has come through with me, to wherever this is.

You must be a ... the word is not coming to me ... a plant expert is the meaning.”

“Yes, I am a ... plant person ... dammit, the word won’t come to me either!”

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