1. News and Updates
Good morning, all! Hope you had a wonderful Father’s Day weekend! It’s been a crazy week around the Saddletramp homestead. Shortly after my last update went live, I learned that my 87-year-old mother passed away in her sleep, so most of my week was spent mourning her loss. While it was good to see the rest of the family gathered for her memorial, I sure would’ve liked it to have been under better circumstances.
My Mom was a good woman who put us boys first, worked hard for her family all her life, and encouraged us all to be the absolute best we could be at whatever we chose to do in life. She was a tough and feisty woman — she had to be to raise seven boys. And she let it be known that none of us were too old to be put over her knee. May God rest her soul.
With that, I am happy to announce that the latest Erotica Consortium anthology is finally available for pre-release on Amazon. “Love Potion 69” contains 13 short stories from some of your favorite indie authors, yours truly included. Be sure to grab your copy here.
2. Featured Book of the Week
The featured book of the week is the aforementioned “Love Potion 69,” the only place where you can read my latest short story, “Cinnamon: The Lothario.”
Murder, intrigue, revenge, second chances, fresh beginnings, self-discovery, adventure, monsters, magic, gender-swaps, and spankings await you in the Erotica Consortium's summer anthology, Love Potion 69.
Pop the cork and take a sip! There's magic in these pages.
You can read an excerpt on my website, and then get your copy on Amazon.
3. Featured Free Story of the Week
The featured free story for this week is “Max Burnage Ep. 01: Cheaters Beware.” This tells the story of how Max and Adrestia met and became a couple. Their story continues in the episodes that follow and in my “Baalak” trilogy.
I plan to write an e-book about their relationship from Max’s point of view. Stay tuned for that…
In the meantime, you can read an excerpt of that story at my website, here.
4. Book Excerpt: “Son of Baalak”
Copyright© 2023 by Saddletramp1956, All rights reserved
Day One:
With hot tears stinging his eyes, Terry Fletcher, Ph. D., the current Director of the Gadsden Pacific Institute of Archaeology, stood over the bed where his twenty-year-old son, Ron, lay unconscious. Terry rushed to the UCLA Medical Center in Santa Monica as soon as he heard his son had been admitted. His wife, Eileen, currently on assignment in Europe, was returning to Southern California as soon as she could find a flight.
“Dr. Fletcher, I heard you were here,” a man’s voice sounded from the door to Ron’s room. Terry turned and saw Dr. Kirkland, the ever-present stethoscope around his neck.
“Please, call me Terry. What’s wrong with him, Doctor?” Terry asked.
“Don’t know. We’re running tests on his blood work, but so far, nothing’s shown up.”
“Can you think of any reason why a perfectly healthy, active, twenty-year-old boy would unexpectedly collapse into a coma?” Terry asked.
“I can think of a number of reasons, Terry,” the doctor said. “But none of them explains what happened to your son. Rest assured, we’re on it. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”
“I know, Doctor,” Terry said, wringing his hands. “I’m just... concerned.”
“As are we all, Terry,” the doctor said. “On the bright side, his vitals are good. Everything seems to be within normal parameters. It’s like he just... fell asleep on his feet. We’ll be running more tests on him tomorrow. Maybe then we’ll get some answers.”
“All right, doctor,” Terry said. “Thanks.” The doctor left the room, and Terry sat down, confused, and his mind wandered back over the last twenty-one years.
Ronald Wilson Fletcher came into the world like everyone else – kicking and screaming. He was a fantastic boy in more ways than one. Everyone told Terry and Eileen to expect lots of sleepless nights, but Ron slept all the way through the night from the day he was brought home. Neither Terry nor Eileen complained.
Ron was pulling himself up and getting around the house by the time he was eight months old, and he uttered his first coherent word at nine months – “Daddy.” Terry smiled at the memory.
As Ron grew, Terry and Eileen realized their son was gifted, so they did everything they could to encourage his growth while ensuring he experienced all a growing boy needed. Terry took him to games and even learned how to fish so he could teach his son. Ron seemed to enjoy everything he and Terry did together.
Terry and Eileen adjusted their work trips so that one of them was always at home with Ron. This was the most challenging adjustment they had to make, having worked closely together for years. But they managed well enough.
When Ron was approaching his tenth birthday, Dr. Malcolm Edwards, the head of the Gadsden Pacific Archaeological Institute at the time, sent Terry and Eileen to northern England to check the progress on a dig along Hadrian’s Wall. They were even more surprised when the older Englishman said they could take Ron with them.
“He’s a very well-mannered young man,” Malcolm told them. “It would do him good to see something of the world.” So they took their son with them. Ron had a great time watching the others work in the dirt. They even let him help from time to time and were impressed with how the young boy listened to and followed their instructions.
They finished their work in England and took a short trip to Paris, where they planned to celebrate Ron’s 10th birthday. After a day of touring the city, they went to a restaurant Malcolm had recommended. To Terry’s and Eileen’s amazement, Ron ordered from the menu in perfect French. Neither of them had taught him French, but he spoke it almost as if he’d used it all his life.
“That was amazing, Ron,” Eileen said. “Where did you learn that?”
“I heard those other people say it, and it just made sense to me. Did I do okay?” Ron asked.
“You did wonderfully, sweetheart,” Eileen said.
“French is such a beautiful language, isn’t it, Mom?” Ron asked.
“Yes, sweetheart, it is,” Eileen answered. The rest of the evening went well, but that incident prompted Terry and Eileen to have Ron’s IQ tested. They weren’t surprised when he tested high enough to qualify for Mensa.
The next eight years passed quickly for all three of them. Ron grew like a weed, his body developing as well as his mind. He played football in high school, ran track and field, and almost always placed in the top three. By the time Ron graduated from high school, he could speak several languages fluently and was well-versed in several academic disciplines.
To no one’s surprise, Ron graduated valedictorian in his high school class and got a full academic scholarship to UCLA. Terry and Eileen felt proud when he announced that he wanted to become an archaeologist like his parents. The two parents were also proud that their son had never once given them a moment’s trouble. He was always so well-behaved, so polite, and well-mannered.
“Don’t you find that a bit odd, old boy?” Malcolm asked one day when he stopped by the Institute. Even though he had retired, Malcolm often stopped by to say “hello” and share a cup of tea with Terry, who took over as Director when Malcolm left. “Eighteen years, and not so much as a single falling out? Surely, he rebelled once or twice as a teenager?”
“When you put it that way, it does seem a bit odd,” Terry mused. “To be honest, though, I can’t recall a single time Ron ever rebelled. Maybe Eileen and I just lucked out in the offspring department.” Malcolm laughed at that.
“Well, let’s see how he does when he leaves the nest for college,” Malcolm said. Ron stayed true to form for the first year of college and spent all his time studying. But Terry began to hear things during Ron’s second year. His grades remained high, and he was active in sports, but there were areas of Ron’s personal life that began to concern Terry.
“I’m getting a little concerned about Ron,” Luis Ramos, one of Ron’s archaeology professors who happened to be a friend of the Fletchers, and Ron's advisor at the college, told Terry one day.
“What’s going on? Are his grades slipping? Is he out partying instead of studying?” Terry asked.
“No, his grades are doing just fine. Somehow, he manages to ace everything with very little study. I don’t know how he does it, my friend,” Luis said.
“So, what’s the problem?” Terry asked. “Has he done something illegal?”
“No, nothing like that. It’s just... he’s built up quite a following among the other students.”
“Is that such a bad thing? Ron’s always been an outgoing young man. Makes friends easily.”
“Ordinarily, I’d say it’s not a bad thing. But I wasn’t really referring to ‘friends.’ I really meant ‘followers’... it’s almost like a... cult. I’m not sure what to make of it,” Luis said. “The other students just seem to... gravitate... to him. They hang onto every word he utters, almost like it was gospel.”
“That is interesting,” Terry said, slightly puzzled but not alarmed. “Maybe he’ll become a politician.” Luis laughed at that.
“He could be a very good one,” Luis responded.
“Has he got a girlfriend?” Terry pressed.
“No one in particular that I can see. All of the young ladies are rather taken with him,” Luis said. Terry chuckled at that. Ron had always attracted the attention of the young girls, but he never seemed to notice, and when they had had ‘the talk’ with him, he seemed to take it as just another fact.
“Well, keep an eye on him, Luis. Thanks for letting me know. I’ll come down in a couple of weeks and visit with him,” Terry said.
“That would be terrific, my friend. And please stop by. My wife and I would love to have you over for dinner,” Luis said.
“Now that would be worth the price of the ticket, Luis,” Terry said with a smile. Luis’ wife made the best homemade tamales Terry had ever eaten.
Two weeks later, Terry got word that Ron had collapsed. Eileen was in Salzburg on assignment, so he called her first before booking a flight to Los Angeles.
“Any idea how it happened?” a frantic Eileen asked.
“No idea at all,” Terry said. “From what I could gather, he was talking with some friends, then collapsed. No warning, nothing. He’s at UCLA Medical Center in Santa Monica.”
“Okay, I’ll get the next flight out and meet you there. I’m scared, Terry, really scared. I feel so helpless here.”
“Everything will be all right,” Terry said, trying to reassure his frantic wife. “I’ll see you when you get here. Love you.”
“Love you too, sweetheart,” Eileen said as they ended the call.
…
Returning to the present, Terry walked to the side of his son’s bed and looked down on the young man’s sleeping face. Ron seemed so peaceful as he slept, and Terry took in the chiseled, well-defined lines of Ron’s face.
When Ron was younger, his face was softer, almost effeminate, with features passed down from Terry and Eileen. The girls thought he looked “cute,” but the young boys used to tease him about it. Some bullied Ron to the point that Terry and Eileen enrolled the young boy in martial arts classes. It didn’t take long for the bullying to stop.
But now, Ron looked anything but effeminate. He had changed drastically in the short time since leaving home for college. Terry studied the boy’s face, amazed at how much his son had changed. Even his chin had started to develop a cleft...
Then it hit Terry. It wasn’t any particular feature that did it – it was the boy’s entire face. Something about him was decidedly different. And it reminded him of someone he hadn’t seen in over twenty years.
“No, it can’t possibly be,” Terry said more to himself than anyone else. Suddenly, Ron’s eyes flew open, and he glared at Terry. Stunned, Terry jumped back, but only momentarily. He looked at the open eyes and saw something... malevolent... lurking there. These weren’t the soft brown eyes of his son, and they looked almost... reptilian and evil.
“Who are you?” Terry demanded quietly. The eyes closed like doors slamming shut, and Terry took a deep breath to collect himself. A few minutes later, a nurse came into the room to check Ron’s vital signs and adjust his medications. Terry took the opportunity to tell her that Ron had opened his eyes.
“Yes, that happens sometimes,” the nurse said. “I wouldn’t put too much into that right now, though.” As Terry watched, she opened Ron’s eyelids and examined each eye for a few moments. Terry looked to see if they still held the same menacing glare as before, but they looked normal. The nurse finished her examination and made notes in his chart.
“He’ll probably be out for the rest of the night, sir. Why don’t you get something to eat and some rest? You can come by tomorrow morning.” Terry nodded in agreement, though he had a sense of foreboding, an uneasiness that curdled in his stomach.
“Yes, that makes sense. Here’s my cell phone number. I’m his father, Terry Fletcher. Please call if there’s any change,” Terry said.
“Of course, Mr. Fletcher,” the nurse said, writing Terry’s number on the whiteboard next to the door. After the nurse left, Terry gathered his jacket and left the room. He returned to his hotel, where he tried to eat dinner. Unfortunately, he could only handle a few bites of food before leaving.
Upon arriving in his room, he texted Eileen to let her know where he was staying. He knew she was still in transit from Austria and probably wouldn’t make it until the next day, but he felt confident she would call or text him when she arrived.
Terry turned on the television for background noise and tried to relax on the bed. But he couldn’t. Something about Ron’s face and those eyes troubled him deeply. He thought back to the time before Ron was born. Indeed, he thought, this didn’t – couldn’t – have anything to do with that horrible...
His mind went back twenty years to when Malcolm assigned him and Eileen the task of investigating a strange artifact – a giant sculpted dildo he later learned pre-dated the Great Flood. The heavy stone phallus was found in a remote area in Egypt along with the remains of two people and a tablet that contained a warning in Latin – a language that didn’t exist, and wouldn't, for thousands of years after it was inscribed.
The artifact flummoxed Terry at the time and made him extremely uneasy. Eileen, however, had seemingly taken to the thing – so much so that she unwisely used it on herself, losing her professional detachment in the process.
Terry recalled feeling weak when the object was out of its container. He also recalled the horrible vivid nightmares of his loving wife being ravished by a large bald man named Baalak. He never forgot, much as he had tried to, the utter devastation he felt witnessing his wife freely giving herself to the man.
Fortunately, none of what he saw in his dreams was real, even though they seemed pretty real at the time. But the weakness he experienced was genuine, as were the changes in Eileen's demeanor. She became more vibrant and demanding. And her sexual appetite seemed to increase exponentially, as his ability to satisfy her seemed to decrease.
Other aspects of the phallus disturbed him as well. Analysis of the object indicated it contained elements and materials that were not available when constructed. Worse yet, the thing included circuitry that would be considered advanced even in modern times.
The “testicles” of the object were found to contain an unknown substance, a small sample of which Eileen had analyzed after it appeared on the “head” of the phallus. No one could state categorically what the substance was or what it was intended for. And afterward, the sample was sealed away, along with all the records, in what the senior staff jokingly referred to as ‘The Forbidden Archives.’
Then the being itself had manifested, and all Hell had broken loose. His recollections were hazy of that traumatic event, but he had reclaimed his wife and helped defeat the sex-crazed monster and send him off to some eternal punishment. He shuddered and felt cold.
Then he remembered the strange petite blonde woman who helped him back then. What was her name again? It was something odd, foreign... Oh yes, Adrestia. Adrestia Rhamnousia. She seemed to have all the answers. Maybe, Terry thought, she could help figure this out as well. But how do I reach her? Malcolm seemed to know her well; Terry considered, I should talk to him tomorrow. With that, Terry fell into a fitful sleep, his mind reeling.
…
Read the rest on Amazon, here.
5. Wrapping up
Well, that’s about it for this week. Thank you for taking the time to read this update. I appreciate all of you more than you know. So until next time, happy trails! Between now and next week, take some time off, snuggle up with a good read or two — preferably mine — and stay warm and safe.
While you’re at it, be sure to follow me on Twitter, Facebook, Bluesky, Reddit, YouTube, TikTok, Spoutible, Pinterest, and Mastodon. And don’t forget to follow me on Amazon so you can get updated when something gets published!
All my best!
Saddletramp