Sienna loves Cactus
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Vanishing Act Ch. 01 free porn video
1
It all began, and I say this with a small sense of irony, on a dark stormy night. Doesn’t everything of any importance always happen on a dark and stormy night? I don’t know if that’s true, but all the important events followed from that dark winter snow swept night in December last year. I was just seventeen on that night. My mom was particularly drunk and as a consequence very irritable. Well, volatile might have been a better way to put it. Bitchy and mean might have been an even better way to put it. However you phrase it, it was a recipe for disaster. To some extent, I claim at least partial responsibility for what happened, but my mother sure wasn’t blameless.
I was sitting at my desk doing my homework for Mr. Singleton, my tyrannical math teacher, when my door burst open. I smelled the fumes long before she reached me. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Rick!’ she bellowed drunkenly, covering me in fumes strong enough to ignite.
‘Uh, doing my homework,’ I said, cowering away from her, much to my shame.
My mother isn’t particularly large or imposing, but when she gets drunk she is as strong as an ox and she isn’t afraid to use whatever physical force she deems necessary to subdue her objective, which more often than not, is yours truly, into doing whatever she wants.
‘You burned my fucking dinner, you worthlessh peesh of shit!’ she screeched and hit me with an open handed slap that rocked my head back and made little birdied chirp in my head.
‘I-I’m sorry,’ I stuttered, but she was in no mood to listen. ‘Gonna make you pay for burnin my dinner,’ she kept chanting over and over again. She made a grab for the heavy stone based lamp on my desk. Oh shit, I thought, scrambling to get away. She’s really gonna put it to me this time. She managed to get hold of the lamp. I finally decided I wasn’t going to take this sitting down, as it were.
‘Gonna get you, you ushelesh whelp,’ she screeched at full drunken volume and raised the lamp over her head in a wide arc which, had I been there to receive it, might’ve caved in my skull. I, however, had ducked out and was across the room. The lamp smashed into the desk, leaving a deep gouge in the wood and causing considerable discomfort to my dear mother’s hand, I’m sure.
She bellowed in muzzy outrage and spun clumsily around to try and find me, weaving on her feet and showing an indecent amount of track covered thigh in the process. I ran out the door and slammed it shut, and not a second too soon. The lamp thudded into the door with an accompanying splintering sound and another inebriated shriek from the mad woman who was wielding it. Was this creature out to get me really my mother? I marveled as I ran down the hall, careening off the walls in my haste to escape the ill conceived wrath of avenging drunkenness. I had little idea of what I was going to do. The place was small, just 2 rooms, a kitchen and a living room, and somehow I just couldn’t entertain the thought of raising a hand, or anything else, to my mother, even though she was out to get me. Odds are she wouldn’t remember anything in the morning. But I had to keep her off me until then.
The door opened down the hall, and out she came, the lamp swinging wildly from side to side, it’s base dented with the dual impacts with furniture. I was glad my blood and brains weren’t spattered all over it, but idly I mused that we sure wouldn’t be getting our security deposit back. Sometimes, the oddest thoughts come into your head at the oddest times. I was to learn this more and more forcefully over the next year.
‘You better shtop right derr,’ my mother roared, swinging the lamp. It left a nice divot in the wall. I was hovering indecisively in the kitchen doorway, still reluctant to defend myself. But then I thought, who the hell am I kidding? This … woman wielding the lamp is not my mother. She’s not the woman who used to giggle with me over the funny pages when I was a kid, or the woman who use to baked chocolate chip cookies with me while we watched Saturday morning cartoons. This woman is a raving maniac, and I should act accordingly.
Having thus rationalized away anything I might do in my defense, a course of action with which I was rather ashamed, since defense of one’s life is not a crime contrary to the damn liberals in congress, I proceeded into the kitchen and grabbed a heavy meat mallet. My mother was advancing inexorably on me, so I had very little time in which to act. Her weapon was heavier than mine and had more power, however, I was in possession of all my faculties, a state of being which she rarely attained these days, and I was more agile than she ever had been, even sober.
‘Stop right there, Mom,’ I said, a little shakily, but I thought purposefully, raising the meat mallet. ‘I don’t want to use this, but I will,’ I added.
‘You put that goddamn thing down, you worthless shon of a bitch,’ she slurred, her lips spewing spittle and her eyes dancing with drunken rage. Snot hung out of her nose and she was panting like a bitch in heat. ‘Don’t you ever think of raishing a hand to me, you ungrateful whelp!’
‘Stop this, Mom,’ I tried reasoning. ‘Neither of us wants to do this.’
‘Shut the fuck up!’ she yelled and without warning she advanced on me with the lamp held high. She brought it down. I heard it whistling through the air.
I ducked and brought the mallet crashing into her kidney with all my strength. The lamp thudded into the wall where my nose had been a second before. My mother screamed and dropped the lamp. It cracked when it hit the floor. She collapsed onto the dirty linoleum, wrapped up in a fetal ball, curled around her pain. Her bladder let go with an acrid stench. I stepped back, ashamed about what I’d done and trying to get out of the widening puddle.
‘Oh oh oh you killed me, you bastard,’ she sobbed, and I swear she sounded totally sober. I felt like crying, but I forced the feeling away and stepped around her, carefully avoiding her spillage. ‘I’m gonna get you for that,’ she squalled, regaining some voice back.
‘Shut up and go to sleep,’ I said. I’m tired of this. I’m going to bed.’
She made no reply, and I edged out of the kitchen and back to my room, noting with a touch of regret the marked and pitted wake of her lampage. Nope. No chance of getting our deposit back, I thought.
2
Something woke me up. The wind had been howling outside all night, driving spicules of snow against the window. It was pitch black outside, low scudding clouds blocking out all the moonlight. The wind had been blowing all night, so it wasn’t the wind that woke me up. I lay very still, trying to figure out what’d woken me.
Creak.
It was somebody in my room. And since it was me and my mother all by ourselves here, it had to be her. I just lay still, listening.
Creak. Creak.
Footsteps on the floor. Edging closer. I slitted an eye a tiny bit. Saw her black silhouette about a foot from my bed with something glittery in one hand. A knife.
I sat up fast and at the same time with a shriek of fury she drove the knife at me. And suddenly, I wasn’t there anymore.
3
I found myself sitting in a field. I was shivering, the temperature must’ve been below zero. And here I was in nothing but a pair of jockey shorts and a t shirt. How the fuck did I end up here, and oh yeah, where the hell was here anyway?
I got shivering to my feet, clutching my arms tight against my rather scrawny chest to keep myself as warm as I could under the circumstances. The wind chill must have been somewhere around 20 below and it was a pure whiteout out here. Visibility was less than 3 feet.
I knew from living in the brutal winters of interior Alaska that I wasn’t going to last very long in just my underwear. How the fuck did I get here, again? I knew my only option was to move, and move damn quickly, to try and figure out 1 where I was and 2 where I could attain some warm
clothes. I started off in what I hoped was the right direction. But then, I realized, any direction would do since I had absolutely no idea where I might be. The snow was ankle high already, in this the first snow storm of October. My feet where numb. I couldn’t feel a thing. Frostbite would get me in about half an hour or less if I continued like this.
I picked up the speed. My balls were shrunken to peach pits and my cock was smaller than it ever had been in my life. My body was shivering uncontrollably. My teeth chattered like a tommy gun. Fuck it was cold!
Suddenly, a sign loomed out of the white murk. It was the sign for a ski resort I visited last year. What the fuck! I was a hundred miles from home in my jockey shorts in a blizzard!
4
I stood staring at the sign dumbly for a minute. A hundred miles from home. Not that there was a lot going on there that I wanted to get back to, but it’s the principle of the matter. Then I pulled myself together. Now that I knew where I was I could orient myself to where I might be able to find some clothes. A friend of mine had a cabin here about half a mile up the road from this sign, so I set off in that direction, shivering worse than ever. The wind had picked up even more, and the snow was horizontally blowing at me, making things hellishly colder still. Many people I talked to from outside scoffed at the idea of stories like To Build a Fire ever actually happening, but to those of us in the interior of Alaska, it was an all too real possibility. Rescue teams often find frozen hikers up in the hills, idiots who came in unprepared for the sub zero temps or who believed it wouldn’t happen to them. And I knew I was facing the real possibility of freezing to death if I didn’t find some clothes and soon.
Luck was with me, though. The caretakers kept the cabins in this part of the park with electricity running, and there was a nice bright porch light gleaming faintly in the snow blown darkness. I found the spare key hidden under the bottom porch step and let myself in. Oh my god, it was warm!
5
I found some warm winter gear I’d stashed in the second bedroom, put it on gratefully, and lit the fire already laid in the hearth.. I was safe, for the time being. I put on a pot of coffee and settled in to wait out the storm and ponder my predicament.
I’ve read enough science fiction books in my life to know that most likely what’d happened to me was that I’d somehow teleported. But how? And most importantly, what triggered it? How come I haven’t been able to do it before?
These thoughts raced through my mind. Teleportation. Me. Why? How? When? And then the possibilities hit me. I could go anywhere. I could do anything and nobody would be able to catch me. No jail cell would be able to hold me
I poured coffee, high on the possibilities and ideas racing through my head. But wait a minute. I’m not a criminal. Dammit, I’m a good fella. I don’t rob. And my being able to teleport, that shouldn’t change it. And then an even more sobering thought hit me–what if this was a one time occurrence? What if I could never do it again?
Ok, I thought to myself. Stop thinking of what you might be able to do and figure out exactly what happened. In The Stars My Destination, they put folks in a tank and flooded it till they were just about to drown. And when the subjects started getting panicky, the teleported out of the tank. I can only imagine that’s what happened to me. My mom was coming at me with a knife and, being afraid for my life, my mind…well, jerked me outa there. Kind of the equivalent of fight or flight, times 100. So, could I only teleport if I was afraid for my safety? Or could I control it. I decided to test it out.
The cabin had a loft where we kept camping supplies and miscellaneous junk. Old parkas that didn’t fit anymore, tents, stoves, a few ski poles, you get the idea. I sat on the couch, closed my eyes, and concentrated on getting to the loft. I want to be in the loft. I want to be in the loft. I want to be in the loft.
I thought this over and over again for a full minute. Then I opened my eyes. Nothing was different. I was still on the couch. Dammit.
Ok, ok. I poured more coffee and thought some more. I’m not doing this right. Obviously. So what am I doing wrong? Maybe I’m not concentrating on the right thing, only doing it halfway. I pictured the loft in my mind, the splintery rafters, the piles of disorganized crap on the floor, the initials we carved into one of the floorboards… and there was a funny twisting sensation behind my breastbone and I fell over and hit my head. All went black.
6
I was only out for a few seconds, but damn, that hurt. I sat up. I was in the loft! I made it! So, I guess I found out how to do the teleportation thing. I have to concentrate on the destination and what the destination actually was.
I pictured the couch by the fire and suddenly I was there again. I landed a lot lighter this time, without knocking myself out. I’m improving, I thought, sipping my coffee a little shakily. It would take some getting used to, this ability, or gift, or whatever it was.
My hands and feet were still giving off occasional bursts of pins and needles. I was lucky. Damned lucky. Ten minutes longer and I would have been another statistic. What the hell was that boy thinking of, wandering around in his shorts? He must have had a few screws loose, nod nod wink wink nudge nudge. Idly, I wondered how my mother was taking my miraculous disappearance. Did she maybe think she’d had a really bad bout of the dt’s? Did she even care? I knew I’d have to get back there. But I’d be damned if I went back tonight. Odds are she’d pass out in the morning and I wouldn’t have to see that sorry bitch ever again.
Having thus set myself upon a course of action, I went down the hall to the guest room and took a shower in the attached bath. I was dog tired and it was 4 in the morning. Sunrise wouldn’t be for another 5 hours.
I stripped and got between the sheets and went right to sleep. I dreamed of teleporting around the world and having frolics with all the girls I could impress with my powers. Yeah, right.
7
The storm had passed when I woke up. Snow was piled up in huge mounds nearly to the bottom floor windows of the cabin. I sat by the embers of the dying fire sipping coffee and watching rabbits jump around outside. I had to decide what I was going to do now that I had in a sense ran away from home. Today was Saturday, which meant I didn’t have to go to school Even though there were only a few months of school left, I still thought I should probably go to school. I don’t think my mother would bother looking too hard for me. But in the meantime, I had to get money and clothes and all the rest of it. But first, I decided to tally up what was in the cabin.
I got up and stacked more wood on the fire. Then I began a systematic search of the place. There didn’t appear to be many useful items here. It looked as though I’d have to forage. I found some clothes I’d left here on previous visits, but only old jeans and shirts, nothing that was going to last a lot longer. I packed what I had in a backpack and left a note on the table explaining that I’d been there, and that I would return anything I had taken that was worth returning. I didn’t figure I’d run much risk of being caught by my mother or the police, if she even bothered calling them, that is, since this place was so far off the beaten path there was no way anyone would think to imagine that I’d gotten from my house to this small cabin a hundred miles away in so short a time. Teleportation, after all, was simply a figment of the imaginations of science fiction writers. Sure, they’d managed to show you could teleport small subatomic particles at various labs around the world. But the average citizen doesn’t know or care about subatomic particles. The average citizen doesn’t care about much except when the next dividend check will arrive and how good the m
oose are running in any given year. The average citizen, in my opinion, is an idiot who can’t or won’t see beyond their own nose. But there’s nothing I can do about it, I suppose.
I pulled out the pack I’d made, zipped up my parka and stepped out the door. And sank to my ass in snow. Shit. I’d forgotten I’d probably have to shovel myself out of here. Damn it.
I turned and went back into the cabin and retrieved a pair of snow shoes. The damn things needed a little repairing, so I used that favorite universal fix it tool, duct tape. It wouldn’t last long, but I figured the shoes would hold up long enough for me to get out to the road. Take two, I thought, laughing to myself. I stepped out into the crisp morning air, which was hovering right around 5 above zero, according to the thermometer next to the door, and set out toward the road.
The sun wasn’t very bright today, there still being clouds hanging around, but it was still not quite the deep dark of the interior Alaska winter just yet. We had another month to go for that. At that time, the sun would rise for about 3 hours, from 11 a.m to 2 p.m. and that was about it. This country isn’t for everybody, that’s for sure.
I made good time. I reached the road in about fifteen minutes. Why didn’t I teleport to where I was heading, you might ask? Well, the truth of the matter was that I was still a bit afraid of it. I mean, the earth is constantly turning, right? What if I teleported and somehow managed to get tossed off the planet due to counter rotation or centrifugal force or some whacky shit like that? I didn’t want to end up a frozen cinder floating about among the jettisoned commodes and broken satellites out there, no sir. Yeah, it was a bit silly to be afraid of that, probably. But hey, I was still new at this whole crazy business.
Suddenly, the day became deathly silent, interrupting my reverie. From years in the Alaskan bush, I knew there was something out there the little animals were afraid of, and that it was probably a good idea for me to be a little nervous too. So I stopped dead and listened, holding my breath so as not the miss the slightest sound.
Crunch. Snuffle. Crack. Snort. Oh, shit, I thought, sweat breaking out on my forehead. It’s a fucking grizzly bear.
8
I stood very still. I barely breathed. My heart thudded in my chest so hard I was afraid the bear would hear it. And here it came out of the brush. It wasn’t one of the huge 1200 pounders you see roaming around out here sometimes. This one looked to be a juvenile, and I hoped to holy hell I wasn’t between Mama Bear and her kid.
The young bear snuffled around the edge of the road, looking for tasty grubs to munch on. He hadn’t spotted me yet, so I began slowly moving in the other direction…and froze as I heard a louder snuffling noise from the other side of the road. Oh Shit. I’m in deep trouble now.
Pansy
- 09.09.2022
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