Biker ) [ 36 ! ?? ]
The Old Valley Road Hotel.
By Wombat. ------------------------- Any constructive comments are appreciated. I'm at 'bungala_wombat@yahoo.com.au'. ------------------------------------
Chapter 5 part 1.
------------------------------------ Part 36: The Lone Biker. ------------------------------------
Derek rode his bike swiftly along the road from Gundagai. It felt good to be astride his Harley-Davidson as it roared along the bitumen towards Ringtail Springs. He was a superman. He could have flown instead. However, it was fun to ride his bike alone across three states from Adelaide along the highways back home to Ringtail Springs.
His tanned powerful muscles bulged in the sun. He was wearing black leather boots and trousers and a sleeveless black leather jacket emblazoned on the back with the insignia of the Roadknights Motorcycle Club.
He had mastered the arts of supermanhood now. In particular, he could stay tuned in telepathically into someone else's mind without difficulty. He had been tuned into Scott's mind since he departed from Adelaide in South Australia. He was fully aware of Scott's sexual adventures with Rod and Cave Bear. That was something he was going to have to deal with when he returned home. He would deal with the issue in his own sweet way. He knew what to do. Scott was already learning the import of what Hal had warned him about.
However, Scott had overdone it with the workout bike and turned himself into a huge muscular sex slave. Scott was ravenous for sex with other men and he was anxious about it. He knew what was happening to him. But it was very difficult for him to control his urges. He was ashamed about the way he used Cave Bear early that morning. It was made worse by the fact that Cave Bear had fallen in love with him. "That poor retard!" thought Scott to himself as he felt the sharp edges of his guilt.
Derek could sense Scott in his massively muscular 666-pound body sitting by the garage door waiting eagerly and apprehensively for his return. It would not be long now.
It had been an excellent adventure for Derek. He had been away for seven weeks and what fun it had been.
He had revelled in the community life at Mount Remarkable. It was a wrench to leave it. However, there was a gentle but insistent urge calling Derek eastwards back home. There were things to be done in Ringtail Springs.
The Mount Remarkable Community was situated around a lake in a network of valleys in the rough country behind the mountain itself. It was about a six-kilometre (four-mile) drive from Melrose, the little town that nestled at the foot of Mount Remarkable and looked out across the Willochra Plain.
Derek had learned much from Hal and Hal's friends and colleagues at the Mount Remarkable Community near Melrose in South Australia. He had complete confidence in his superhuman powers now. Seven weeks was much longer than necessary but it had been heaps of fun.
When he and Hal arrived at the community, Derek had met Hal's family. Hal's wife Annie had welcomed Derek, making him feel instantly at home. There were twelve children in the family, seven sons and five daughters. The six eldest were already superhuman. They were six extraordinarily beautiful human beings. They were indeed gods and goddesses. The eldest was Michael (Mick) aged 20 years. Then there were Peter (18), David and Thomas (Tom), twins aged 17 years, Catherine (Cat) aged 15 and Beatrix (Bee) aged 14.
The four boys, or young men, took an immediate liking to their father's gorgeously handsome young friend Derek. They all had superbly muscled bodies. All were blond-haired and blue-eyed except for Peter who had inherited Hal's brown hair and eyes. Tom had curly hair while the rest were straight haired. Mick was a giant standing two metres (6'7") tall and weighing 200 kilograms (440 pounds) of solid hard muscle. The others were all around 193 centimetres (6'4") and weighed about 150 kilograms (330 pounds). All of them were indeed extraordinarily handsome young gods with beautifully sculpted and powerfully muscled bodies.
Derek spent many a night in rapturous delight as he explored all kinds of sexual pleasures with Hal's sons. He was fucked every which way by the four of them, often all at once. Sometimes Derek felt as if he were a bitch on heat being fucked by four randy dogs at once. There often would be a cock up his arsehole, one in his mouth and down his gullet, one up his cunt and one inserted into his navel. He was the centre of a heaving, thrusting mass of gorgeous young superman muscle.
He also learnt all about being the meat in the sandwich. He would fuck one of them while at the same time being fucked by one or more of the others. They were energetic and exhilarating times.
Not only that, but the dark-haired, handsome and beautiful young muscleman was very popular with Hal's friends as well. Until he left Adelaide on his journey home, he had been in bed with at least one other person every night. He was totally submerged in love. He wallowed in love and sex. It was a fucking good time. It was wonderful. His mind and body were completely connected and attuned to the others.
The previous night when Derek camped out under the stars near Hay in New South Wales was the first night that he had spent alone since Hal first arrived in Ringtail Springs. That seemed so long ago. Much had happened since then.
Lying alone at night on a ground sheet spread out on the top of a sand hill southwest of Hay looking up at the myriad stars of the Southern Hemisphere was an experience he treasured. He camped off a sandy dirt road about forty kilometres (25 miles) south of the Sturt Highway. There was only the faintest breeze. In the distance he could hear the very faint roar of the big trucks travelling the highway between Sydney and Adelaide or Perth. That was only possible thanks to his superhuman hearing. He could pick out the summer constellations that his grandfather had shown him. Orion was high overhead and Sirius, the Dog Star, shone brightly high in the northeast, not far from the yellow orb of Jupiter. The Southern Cross was low in the southern sky. The yellow quarter moon was sinking in the west. However, that did not dim the shining glory of the massed stars. Far from any city, they formed a splendid sight.
While he lay there, he tuned in to Scott telepathically. Up until around midnight Scott had been blissed out on the workout bike. Derek deliberately chose to ring Scott's home number from his mobile phone earlier, mainly to leave a message reassuring Scott that he was on his way home.
He witnessed telepathically Scott's encounter with Cave Bear. Derek relished the thought of screwing the huge man. However, training Cave Bear up to become a superman would present a difficult challenge. Derek knew that he needed more experience.
Scott was fairly desperate and he was eager to break out of the straitjacket of normality. Scott would have to be careful, particularly in a small town like Ringtail Springs.
It was an interesting experience listening in to the minds of the two men in their energetic sexual coupling. Cave Bear was deeply moved by the joy of being fucked by Scott. His limited intellect wanted Scott and nothing else. He loved Scott from the depth of his being.
Cave Bear would present a problem because Scott had stirred him up deeply. No doubt he would go looking for Scott eager to repeat the experience. Certainly, he had got himself fucked by the donkey several times previously. Cave Bear seemed totally innocent of any ability to regulate his sexual desires. Scott had just about lost his ability to control himself as well. A torrid affair between the two was dangerous. If the coupling between Scott and Cave Bear became public knowledge, the news would scandalise Ringtail Springs. Who knows what the consequences would be? However, Derek was sure that he and his friends would find some way of dealing with Cave Bear in the best possible way.
Derek began his journey from the community house in Norwood, a suburb just east of the Adelaide central business district. It was a quick ten-minute ride from Norwood through the comfortable leafy eastern suburbs of Adelaide along the main arterial Portrush Road to the start of the freeway that climbed up through the Mount Lofty Ranges.
A short distance from the Glen Osmond traffic lights he passed the 150-year-old tollhouse that had long since ceased operating and was in the 100 kilometre-per-hour (62-mph) speed zone. It was good to feel his Harley accelerating beneath him as he opened up the throttle to cruising speed. The rush hour had finished and there was not a lot of traffic about. It was after nine o'clock on a fine and sunny summer morning that promised a hot day. The freeway was a fine dual- carriageway road with three lanes each side. There was plenty of room.
His departure from Norwood had been delayed when Derek and his friends became aware telepathically that Scott was in grave distress. Scott had decided to dive into the dam out the back of Derek's garage on Valley Road. His hugely muscular and dense body had sunk straight to the bottom of the dam. Scott was in danger of drowning. Derek and Hal concentrated on telepathically guiding Scott out of the dam and out of danger. Derek also fed enough energy into Scott's oxygen- starved body to keep him going and prevent him collapsing underwater. Scott's huge body ached with the effort. Derek and his friends cheered when Scott collapsed gratefully on the bank with his head out water. They howled with laughter when Scott stuck his penis into an old yabbie burrow and fucked the dam bank.
"You've certainly got a real hot one there," laughed Wolf.
Derek grinned as he roared through the half-kilometre stretch of the Heysen Tunnels. The exhaust from his bike made a raucous racket as it echoed back from the concrete walls. It was fun to roar past the Holden Commodores, Toyota Camrys and Corollas, Honda Civics, Ford Falcons, Mercedes Benzes and BMWs as he racketed through the tunnel. The Harley-Davidson was noisy.
He was looking forward to seeing Scott again. Scott promised to be rather a handful but very interesting.
The Crafers exit was at the summit of the freeway. There the freeway reduced to two lanes each way. After the Stirling exit a couple of kilometres further on the speed limit increased to 110 kph (68 mph). Stirling was covered with broadleaved European trees like oaks and elms. Derek accelerated. He kept his telepathic sense well tuned as he remained on the alert for radar speed traps. Soon he was cruising at just over 130 kph (80 mph). It was good to feel the wind in his face. His powerful arms hung loose from the handlebars of his bike. It was easy riding.
The roadside hills were covered in eucalypts and pines. Already the grass had dried out yellow in the hot December sun. He rode past towns like Bridgewater and Hahndorf. As Derek rode past Hahndorf, he could see the spires of the large Lutheran church.
The town of Mount Barker was spreading along the freeway towards the peak of Mount Barker itself. It was almost like being back in suburbia again. There were lots of houses.
Past Mount Barker it was more or less downhill through open country all the way to Murray Bridge 80 kilometres (50 miles) away inland from Adelaide. The Southeastern Freeway ended just short of the Swanport Bridge that crossed the sluggish green waters of the River Murray. It was like the great green greasy Limpopo River, only much narrower, Hal had said.
Past the town of Tailem Bend he turned left onto the Mallee Highway that headed eastwards over the border through northern Victoria towards Sydney. He passed through or by small, dry and dusty settlements with names like Sherlock, Buccleuch, Peake and Jabuk.
Not a lot of traffic used the Mallee Highway. Most big trucks used the Sturt Highway that followed the course of the River Murray further north.
The highway was called the Mallee Highway after the mallee country it passed through. The mallee tree itself was a tough plant that sprouted several thick woody trunks from a single hard wooden rootstock. It was well suited to the harsh dry conditions it grew in and it grew to between 3 metres (10 feet) to 5 metres (16 feet) tall. Mallee roots made excellent firewood. The leaves of the mallee were a dull olive grey-green in colour. It dominated the country. Thick stands of mallee trees grew along the roadside.
Derek stopped at Geranium because he was intrigued by the name. Geranium was a tiny town in the middle of the Lower Murray Mallee, which was scrubland that had been turned into rather marginal farmland. Derek felt like a drink of something fizzy. A hot north wind was blowing up the dust as he rode.
He turned right off the highway and rode down the main street, which was rather short. Lining the street were a few houses that looked lived in and the local primary school. Some were partly hidden behind a grove of pine trees that covered the median strip. The road continued southwards over the railway crossing past open dry yellow- brown paddocks and disappeared into the low hills.
He pulled up outside the Geranium Friendly Store. While he was removing his helmet, a blonde woman came out of the store. She looked at him fearfully. He flashed her a great big wide smile. She looked at him doubtfully as she got into her dusty old Holden station wagon, the kind ubiquitous in rural Australia.
Derek hung his helmet from the bike's handlebars and strode into the store. He picked up the woman's thoughts clearly. She was amazed by his smile. She had never ever seen a bikie smile before. Never in all her forty-four years. And he was a really handsome and muscular brute too. She admired his magnificent physique and the play of his muscles as he entered the store. God, he is gorgeous, she dared to think to herself. She started her car and drove off southwards.
The old brass bell fixed to the door clanged as Derek opened it. It was cool inside. Nobody was behind the counter. Derek looked around. No one could be seen. The north wind rattled the verandah. Derek sensed someone in the store though. A man was loading merchandise from boxes into the shelves at the end of one of the two narrow aisles. He came to the front of the store.
"G'day, mate. What can I do you for?"
A tall gangly dark-haired man sporting an impressive array of silver earrings in his left ear appeared from down one of the aisles. He was wearing an old khaki army shirt and was pushing a supermarket trolley full of cardboard boxes. He left the trolley next to the counter that doubled as the checkout.
Derek asked for a bottle of lemonade. The man indicated the store refrigerator behind Derek. Derek took a bottle and paid the man. He unscrewed the bottle top and drank down the lemonade. It was good to feel the fizzy liquid going down his throat and cleaning out the dust.
He felt the man's eyes devouring him while he was holding the bottle to his lips. The man feasted his eyes on the full-bellied curve of Derek's powerful biceps and the thick bulging musculature of his chest and belly visible through the open front of his black leather jacket.
"Jesus, you've got big muscles," commented the man as he continued staring at Derek.
Derek smiled. He finished the lemonade.
"I never seen anything like it," said the man in wonder. "You got the biggest muscles I ever seen. God, they're big. You look bloody fantastic."
"Thanks, mate," replied Derek.
He put the bottle down on the counter and emitted a loud belch. The man laughed uproariously.
Derek was aware of the man's mother cautiously watching the proceedings from a room off the shop. She was more worried about her son than the big biker. Her son had been having his peculiar moments. Some of her customers had been offended by him lately and she had to work hard to patch things up. Derek sent her a calming thought. She relaxed. The biker seemed a decent sort of bloke. She did not think he would hurt her son.
Derek took his leave of the man and left the shop.
Once outside again, Derek mounted his bike and roared off towards the highway. Interesting character, Derek thought to himself with amusement. He's different, just a little crazy.
Reaching the Mallee Highway, he turned right and headed east towards the border.
Lameroo was a dusty Mallee town baking in the December heat. Derek stopped and bought another bottle of lemonade from a delicatessen in the main street. The wind had dropped. He strolled across the street to the railway yards opposite. Tall white wheat silos towered over the railway tracks.
Derek leant against a mallee tree and drank down the cool fizzy lemonade from the bottle. He looked out across the railway yard. A couple of rusty old green and yellow wagons full of mallee roots had been shunted into a siding. There was no other rolling stock.
On the railway platform stood an old sign with 'LAMEROO' painted in white on a black background. The paint was peeling. The white- painted clapboard railway station building with wide verandahs had been recently restored. Clearly it had been very many years since a passenger train last stopped at Lameroo. The litter bins had flowers growing in them.
On the ground not far away from Derek was a meat ant nest. It was a cleared weed-free area about two metres (6 feet) across and its surface was dotted with holes. Many ants scurried busily across the smooth gravel surface. The meat ants were a dark purplish black colour and about one centimetre (0.4 inches) long.
Derek squatted down and watched their activities.
A large grey huntsman spider fell out of the overhanging mallee tree and landed with a plop in the middle of the meat ant nest. The meat ants set upon it immediately. The huntsman spider struggled against its swarming attackers but to no avail. The spider had a grey body about five centimetres (2 inches) long. It was much bigger than the ants but its attackers had the advantage of numbers. Soon the spider was completely hidden inside a ball of furious meat ants.
Derek watched while the ants efficiently dismembered the spider with their jaws while it was still alive. Some carried its legs back to the nest openings and underground. The rest dismantled the head and torso of the spider while it was still moving. When the spider had been reduced to manageable chunks, the ants marched underground carrying pieces of the spider in their jaws.
Derek remained squatting. He found it fascinating watching the conflict and sensing it telepathically. The ants were in a state of arousal in which they became savage. The spider felt the pain of being dismembered but Derek was surprised that the spider felt so little emotion. It was as if a machine was being dismantled. Of course, the intelligence of the ants and the spider was only a tiny fraction of a human being's intelligence. Derek knew that the activities of a whole colony of ants could be simulated successfully on an ordinary home PC. The gulf between ants and humans was enormous. However, Derek was conscious of his and his fellow humans' God-given responsibility to manage properly the interactions of the web of life that covered Planet Earth.
Derek watched while the ants' activities returned to normal.
He strolled back to his bike and put the lemonade bottle in a nearby rubbish bin. He kick-started his bike and rode away east along the Mallee Highway.
He continued through towns like Parilla and Pinnaroo. Past Pinnaroo he left South Australia and crossed the state border into Victoria. The hot north wind was picking up again. Dust from the empty paddocks blew across the road.
Twenty kilometres (12 miles) east of the border, Derek stopped at Murrayville for a pint of beer at the substantial two-storey hotel. The lady behind the bar was friendly. Even the two old men propping up the front bar thawed a little towards Derek. They opined that it was going to be a long hot dry summer. Derek could agree with that. On his bike the glare of the sun was harsh. The country looked dry, parched and brown in the summer heat. Outside the towns, he could not see a single blade of green apart from the drab dull olive-green of the mallee trees. Everything looked breathless and dried out in the heat of the summer sun. The old men in the bar looked as dry and dusty as the land they farmed.
Out of Murrayville, Derek rode through the Victorian Mallee passing through towns like Underbool and Walpeup. The hot north wind was picking up. It was blowing a fair amount of dust off the bare paddocks north of the road.
Ouyen was the largest town Derek passed through since leaving Tailem Bend. It was busy. Derek had all his senses at full alert while he negotiated the traffic.
He crossed the railway line and rode out of Ouyen heading east. It still was mallee country that he rode through. The low mallee gums had multiple stems growing from a single base. They were dotted all along the roadside. The big Harley thrummed between Derek's legs as it roared along the bitumen.
Hal was concerned about Scott's sexual adventures with Hot Rod Boylin. That started at about the same time as Derek rode out of Murrayville. The photo shoot worried Hal. What would happen if the photographs of Scott naked were published? The telepathic conversation flowed as if Derek was there in the room with his friends instead of riding alone down the Mallee highway.
During all this, Derek telepathically tagged Rod.
The telepathic supermen kept Rod in a state of confusion and prevented him from going after Scott until it was too late.
<< Derek could always fry Rod with a lighting bolt. >> Wolf was joking of course.
Derek: << Why don't I just shoot some X-rays into the film canister and cook the film? >>
Peter: << No. Rod needs to suffer for leading Scott astray. He needs to know straight away, not when he gets the film developed. >>
Hal: << I agree. >>
Derek suggested making the film canister pop open when Rod removed it from the camera. The others thought it was an excellent idea.
Derek put the suggestion into Rod's mind that he should open the thick curtains and let the sunlight into the room. Rod did so. Rod rewound the film and opened the back of the camera still on its tripod. As Rod removed the film canister, Derek gave it a slight psychokinetic nudge and it slipped through Rod's fingers. As it fell, Derek turned the canister so that the spool end was facing down. It hit the floor spool end down and popped open. Derek gave the film spool a slight nudge. It rolled across the brightly sunlit floor unspooling the film as it went. The sunlight destroyed the images of Scott in an instant. Rod's wail of horror was quite enough.
They laughed when Rod buried his tear-streaked face in the tangled mass of film. They howled with laughter when the film stuck to Rod's face damp with tears. It hurt when he peeled it off. He knew that he had lost the photographs of Scott forever.
While all this was happening, Hal was cooking up a nice big thunderstorm over the mountains east of Willabalangaloo. There were already massed cumulus clouds as moist air rose over the mountains. Hal amplified the process.
Scott drove straight into the thunderstorm. It was intense. Rain poured heavily. Lightning flashed. Thunder roared. The storm was a humdinger. The bolts of lightning hitting the road near the Pajero terrified Scott. The Pajero's engine hiccupped.
The supermen laughed when Scott vowed to God that he would be good. They knew it was hollow.
The floodwaters cut Scott off between two flooded bridges. When Scott started masturbating inside Derek's Pajero, Derek sent a thought into Scott's mind that he would think Scott was a real animal if he squirted semen all over the inside of the four-wheel-drive. Derek tinged the thought with shame. Scott obliging got out of the vehicle and continued his masturbation in the pouring rain. The others thought it was hilarious.
Derek amplified Scott's orgasm greatly. Scott's semen gushed out into the raging floodwaters and was carried away. Scott's knees became weak with the huge force of his orgasm and he sank down onto the wet roadside gravel.
The supermen cheered when Scott expelled the butt plug from his anus and threw it into the raging torrent. It was a symbolic act. Scott by his own free will freed himself from Rod's influence.
The rain still poured down.
More than five hundred kilometres (300 miles) away, Derek rode his motorcycle through the hot dry yellow-brown mallee country parched under the searing summer sun. He had slowed down so that he could concentrate on Scott. The intensity of Scott's orgasm made him feel randy but he wound it down. That could wait until the next day.
The town of Manangatang came into view. It was a very small town in the Victorian Mallee. A sign on the approach into town declared that the population was 311.
The town itself looked as dry and dusty as any other town that Derek had passed through that day. In the centre of the town a large sign indicated the Manangatang Hotel. A cold beer or two sounded like a good idea to Derek. He did not need to eat.
Derek turned left and found the hotel opposite the railway station. For an instant Derek thought there had been a mistake. The hotel was a cream brick structure that looked like a church built in the 1960s. The next thing he noticed was the phalanx of motorcycles parked out the front. On top of the building was a sign advertising beer. It was a pub all right.
Derek counted the motorbikes in a glance. There were twenty-two. He probed inside the hotel with his mind. He was relieved to discover that the bikers inside were from the Demon Riders Motorcycle Club.
If they had been from a hostile motorcycle club, Derek would have been obliged to move on. A few of the big motorcycle clubs had declared war on the Roadknights. That ended fairly recently. The hostile clubs had to call a truce because the superhuman Roadknights were putting too many of their members in hospital with broken bones.
For a lone Roadknight to walk into a pub full of bikers from a hostile club would have been very provocative. With his invulnerability and superhuman strength, Derek would have had no difficulty in dealing with twenty-two angry bikers attacking him. He would have severely beaten up most, if not all of them on his own. They would have surely ended up in hospital. Killing them was absolutely taboo.
However, if Derek had got into a fight, he would have faced severe criticism from his fellow Roadknights for exacerbating a tense situation by walking into the pub.
If the hostile bikers had forborne to pick a fight with the powerfully muscled Roadknight, they still would still have glared at him and muttered angrily from the bar. The atmosphere would have been very tense, particularly for a telepath. It would not have been the place for a nice relaxed beer.
The Demon Riders stayed well out of the conflict. They were a smaller club and could not afford to get caught up. They were based mainly in Melbourne with chapters in some of the larger Victorian country towns as well as a few in South Australia, New South Wales and Canberra.
Derek parked his bike in front of the hotel a little apart from the phalanx of other bikes. He cast his eyes over the parked bikes. Most of them were Harley-Davidsons with some big Japanese V-twins as well.
Derek strode confidently into the front bar with a limber athletic grace. He felt twenty-two pairs of eyes lock onto him. He caught the thoughts and whispers from the bikers in the bar.
"Fuck! Look at the size of him."
"Holy shit! Look at the muscle on him."
"He'd have to be a fucking Roadknight walking in like that."
"Shut up and be quiet. That one looks dangerous."
And so on.
There were no other people in the bar apart from the bikers and the bar staff. The man and woman serving behind the bar glanced quickly and nervously at Derek.
As Derek approached the bar, a tall, solidly built, blonde-bearded man with bright blue eyes and long blonde hair down past his shoulders detached himself from the group of bikers. He wore a black leather jacket and trousers. He held out his hand to Derek in a friendly manner.
"G'day, I'm Eric. How're y'goin'?"
Derek replied with his name in a similar fashion. Eric was several inches taller than Derek but would have been 15 to 20 kilograms lighter than Derek. He was keen to be friendly. The Roadknights had an awesome reputation. And Derek had an awesome physique.
Eric invited Derek to join the group at the bar. The other bikers were friendly enough although wary of Derek. They were mightily impressed by Derek's body.
"Hey, Doris, who's your muscly mate?" called out a thin old-looking man to Eric. He had an ugly, battered face, a few wisps of white hair and a gap-toothed grin. He had bright blue eyes and looked to be in his seventies. Derek glanced quickly into his mind and saw that the man was in only his mid fifties.
Eric introduced Derek around the group and told them that Derek was a Roadknight. Eric's nickname was Doris, as in Doris Day. All the bikers had feminine nicknames. Derek hid his amusement with an easy smile as he shook their hands. The gap-toothed man was called Marilyn. Others had nicknames like Shirley, Mavis, Myrtle and Suzie.
Derek's remarkable tanned physique caused considerable comment. He confessed to being 186 centimetres tall and weighing 135 kilograms.
"I'm not too good with kilograms and all that crap," said Marilyn. "What's that in feet and inches and stones and pounds?"
Derek replied with a grin, "Six foot, one and a quarter inches."
The others laughed at the 'one and a quarter inches' bit.
Derek continued. "And I'm 297 pounds or twenty-one stone three."
"Fuck!" said some. Others whistled.
"Solid hard muscle, by the look of it," said Shirley. He was a small lean man with a tight mass of steel-grey curly hair that looked like a Steelo pad. "What's your body fat percentage?"
"Dunno," replied Derek.
"Bugger all, by the looks of it," opined Shirley. "Jesus! I reckon you can see every one of your muscles. Hey, Doris, what's your body fat percentage?"
"That's not for publication," was Doris's curt reply.
"30 percent? 35 percent? 40 percent?" teased Shirley.
Derek read Doris's mind and saw that he knew it was 31 percent. Doris was not going to tell anybody. He felt a little ashamed of running to fat. Derek could see Doris's hairy belly bulging through the open front of his black leather jacket. It had the definition of a sack full of flour.
"Shut yer face, Shirl," replied Doris.
Shirley carried on regardless. "What do you weigh, Doris?"
"117 kilograms," replied Doris.
"What's that in real weight?" asked Marilyn.
"Oh, fuck, I don't know. I don't do metric conversions in my head. Certainly not after a few beers."
The barmaid tapped away on her calculator.
"257.4 pounds," she announced. She tapped on her calculator again. "That's 18 stone 5 pounds.
"How tall are you, Doris," asked Shirley persistently.
"195 centimetres."
"Fuck me! That means nothing to me," complained Marilyn.
"That's easy," said the barmaid. "That's six foot five inches."
"Hey, Doris, you're nearly four inches taller than our muscly mate," said Shirley. "I reckon you can take him on."
Doris put his arm around Derek's broad shoulders.
"No way," he said. "No way I'm going to pick a fight with me mate the human bulldozer."
Derek put his arm around the taller man's waist. It was soft and bulgy but it was oddly comforting.
"Anyhow, I don't like getting into fights," said Derek. "I'm too likely to get into trouble. I don't fancy ending up in the slammer for grievous bodily harm or worse."
Hal: << Good move! >>
"This one's OK," said Mavis, indicating Derek. He was a plump balding man with dark eyes and dark hair combed over his bald patch. He was wearing black-rimmed glasses and very well made, expensive black leathers. He looked like a comfortable middle-aged accountant pretending to be a biker.
The discussion continued about Derek's magnificent body. The others all wanted to know his measurements. His upper arms were 61 cm (24 inches); his chest was 152 cm (60 in); his waist was 81 cm (32 in); his symmetrical thighs were 81 cm (32 in). They were impressed, particularly when he flexed his arms in a spectacular double biceps pose. Their eyes opened wide.
Derek saw that he was much younger than the Demon Riders in the bar. The youngest of the group was in his late thirties, more than ten years older than Derek. The ages of the rest of them ranged up into the early sixties. Doris was aged in his mid forties. He was the president of the Demon Riders Motorcycle club.
Derek's looks were the next point of discussion. He was a beautiful man, incredibly good-looking. The other bikers were intrigued. Derek took it all in good humour even when Mavis asked him if he ever wore a dress. Derek replied with a laugh that no, he had not; he would look silly in a dress. He picked up telepathically that Mavis liked to wear a dress in the privacy of his own home.
Marilyn asked if the Roadknights accepted ugly members. He had never seen an ugly one.
Derek replied that they did and they trained the recruits to a high standard of physical, mental and spiritual excellence. True beauty shone from within.
Shirley said that was getting a bit too theological for him.
The discussion moved on. The bikers had ridden up from Melbourne that day, a distance of about 430 kilometres (270 miles). They were intending to camp for a few days over Christmas at Hattah Lakes in the Hattah-Kulkyne National Park. That was about another 100 kilometres (60 miles) northwest.
Derek bought a round of drinks. He plonked two fifty-dollar notes on the bar. For 23 pints of beer there was little change out of the hundred dollars.
They talked about bikes. Some of the bikers recognised the exhaust note of Derek's motorcycle as that of a Harley-Davidson. He liked his bike. Daisy, who rode a Yamaha V-twin, protested his bike was the equal of any Harley and was better made. That provoked a lively discussion.
It was about this time in Ringtail Springs that Scott was injecting himself with forty-one syringes full of the muscle growth stimulating factor. Derek was aware that Scott was in danger of overdosing himself. He knew that Scott's muscles could probably go into meltdown and Scott would die.
Hal: << Don't worry, mate. We've all got this one in hand. Scott is about to suffer with all that juice in his system but we won't let him die. He'll be fine. Alfred will look after him. Scott is just going to grow massively enormous, which is what he wanted anyway. It's more important that you keep on networking with the Demon Riders. You are doing a tremendous job there in Manangatang. The president likes you a lot and that's a real bonus. It will help us a lot to have them favourably disposed towards us. >>
The bikers in the bar told lots of stories. Derek was telepathically connected with his Roadknight friends and they transmitted to him many hilarious stories. Derek retailed them to the other bikers and had them falling about in stitches of laughter. He even managed to get a few laughs from the dour barman. The barmaid was grinning from ear to ear. Derek delighted in the warm glow of camaraderie that enveloped them all and was focussed on him. They all really liked him, the beautiful handsome muscular biker.
The afternoon was wearing late when Doris looked at the clock over the bar. He announced that they should leave now if they were going to get to Hattah Lakes and pitch their tents by sunset. He invited Derek to accompany them.
Derek declined. "I've got a mate back east who's going off the rails. He needs me to be there and help him out."
"Lucky bugger, having a mate like you," said Doris with feeling.
They trooped outside. Doris/Eric embraced Derek. All the others followed his example.
Hal: << Wow! Derek, you really wowed them. That's a fantastic job you did. >>
Derek glowed. Hal was full of praise.
They all mounted their bikes. The late afternoon peace of Wattle Street in the little town of Manangatang was shattered by the roar of twenty-three big motorbikes accelerating away. At the intersection with the Mallee Highway, Derek peeled off to the left. The Demon Riders wheeled right and headed off towards the sun low in the west.
The shadows were long as Derek rode eastwards along the Mallee Highway. The north wind had dropped away completely. By then, Scott was in a happy daze on the workout bike. He would remain like that for many hours while Alfred rebuilt his body.
Peter, Wolf, Kevin and Hal were concerned that Alfred was rebuilding Scott's body to such an enormous size. He would end up weighing around 300 kilograms (660 lb). That was far too big for a human being. However, the fact that Scott's muscles were approaching meltdown precluded any attempt to reprogram Alfred. There just was not enough time. The supermen decided to let it go.
Derek was quite sanguine about sticking his cock into that enormous mountain of muscle. 300 kilos of huge hard solid muscle! Derek really looked forward to the prospect. He growled with pleasure at the thought. The other supermen laughed.
Paul: << Derek's a real live one. He's a humdinger! >>
Derek glowed with the compliment from the prior of the Mount Remarkable Community.
The tiny town of Piangil lay near the River Murray. It consisted of a shop, a petrol station and a few houses. There was nothing else but lots of vineyards.
Derek filled his bike with petrol at the petrol station.
A short distance out of Piangil, the Mallee Highway ended at the intersection with the Murray Valley Highway. Derek turned north. A little way further on, a road branched right. That led over the river. Derek rode across the state border from Victoria into New South Wales and crossed the old wooden opening bridge over the River Murray. The water here was a pale brown in colour.
Across the river was the town of Tooleybuc. Instead of taking the main road out of town, Derek followed the road north to the Tooleybuc Sporting Club. Derek had heard that it boasted an excellent golf course, a good motel and a pretty good restaurant. However, he was in need of none of these.
Not far from the Tooleybuc Sporting Club was a gravel area overlooking the river. Derek parked his bike there and strolled down to the river. It was near sunset and the birds were in full voice.
He watched as the pale brown waters of the River Murray flowed sluggishly past. The river level was down. The low sun shone through the gum trees on the other side in Victoria.
He found a clump of gum trees and emptied his bladder. He had drunk quite a few beers but was still perfectly sober. Alcohol did not affect him now. He did not have to urinate. He could have just made his urine disappear from inside his bladder. However, he wanted to urinate like a normal human being. By the simple act of urinating against a tree, he felt reconnected to the human race. He felt that it was important to remember that once, two months ago, he was an ordinary human being. It seemed so long ago. He was a telepathic superman now.
He had drunk the beer in Victoria and was now pissing it out in New South Wales.
Afterwards he sat down on the riverbank and watched the river flow past. He reached out with his mind to his friends. They seemed so close, although some were in Adelaide 500 kilometres (300 miles) away and some were in Melrose, an 850-kilometre (530-mile) journey away. Their minds were linked with his. He loved them dearly. If he wanted to, he could jump over there in an instant and wrap his arms around them in a loving embrace. He chose not to. He was enjoying riding alone across the southeast of Australia. There was something special about being a lone biker. Few motorcycle club members were brave enough to ride long distances alone. There were always a few crazy people around who would try and run a lone biker off the road or worse, shoot at him. Derek, however, had his superhuman bag of tricks that would fend them off easily.
He cast his mind back to the time when Hal was showing him how to ride a motorbike. They were on the Hume Highway on their way to Yass when that idiot in a Ford F-100 was hassling him and Hal by sitting only three feet from their back wheels. Derek remembered how angry he had been. Hal solved the problem by summoning a sprite to disconnect the high-tension lead. The Ford's engine died immediately and the idiot was no longer a problem.
Derek had felt so new and green back then. Hal had taught him much since them. He felt confident and potent in his superpowers now. He was a god. However, Derek knew he still had a long way to go before he could achieve the majesty of soul that Hal possessed. That would take years. Derek was still a very junior god.
Being alone seemed to mean that people were more open and friendly towards him. He remembered the slightly crazy man at Geranium who was a little too friendly. Given half a chance he would have delighted in feeling Derek's huge muscles. However, the man's mother would have intervened and stopped the fun.
Then there was the friendly and cheerful barmaid at Murrayville. Even the two glacially dour old farmers warmed towards Derek. Certainly a handsome face and an impressive physique helps.
He was a great hit with the Demon Riders at the Manangatang Hotel. They really liked him, especially the president. Hal was pleased.
Derek tuned into the Demon Riders' minds. Doris was leading his men along a dirt road that bypassed Ouyen. He knew that if any of his men were breath-tested by the local policeman at Ouyen it would be a disaster. Many of them were well over the alcohol limit. It would completely ruin their Christmas if they had been booked.
Doris knew a thing or two. Derek chuckled. He liked the man's cunning.
Derek liked just sitting alone on the riverbank watching the water flow slowly past. He was still connected to his friends and colleagues telepathically. However, in a deeper sense he felt connected to the whole human race. He knew he enjoyed the company of normal human beings.
He appreciated the bedrock of spirit that connected all human beings. Each person was like an island separated by a virtual sea. All superhuman beings were connected by their telepathic sense to each other and the Lord God Almighty. It was a wonderful network. All these islands were connected by glowing bridges of love. Derek could feel the love and light beaming down from God sustaining them all. He would never be completely alone again.
Normal people were just that. They were isolated from each other. They had not learnt how to connect with their fellow humans. They were isolated in their suspicion, fear, doubt and anxiety. Their negative emotions kept them separated from each other and their God. Derek knew that one day all human beings would be connected together in this wonderful network of love. He could only hurry this along by recruiting all the people he can with his love. It would take time. Changing the human race was not going to happen overnight.
The sun set through the trees. Derek mounted his bike and rode back into Tooleybuc. Back in town, he turned left at the intersection with the main road and headed northeast towards Balranald. His bike sped along the road in the darkening twilight. Little traffic was about. The powerful headlight of his bike picked out the bitumen ahead for some distance.
It was almost dark when he reached the intersection with the Sturt Highway five kilometres out of Balranald. He turned east away from Balranald.
There was much traffic on the Sturt Highway. It was the main highway between Adelaide and Sydney and Canberra. It connected to the Hume Highway south of Gundagai. Much of the traffic consisted of big heavy trucks, the semitrailers and B-doubles. The cars were a bit of a worry. Many of them were travelling at 130 kph (80 mph) or more, 20 plus kph over the limit. Derek sped up so that there was no chance of him being hit from behind. He had his telepathic sense at full alert looking out for radar traps.
By the time it was completely dark, Derek was finding that riding into the glare from the oncoming vehicles was unpleasant. The trucks dipped their headlights for him. However, some of the oncoming cars did not bother. He was just a bikie, one on his own. It did not bother Derek greatly. He could see and sense well enough with his superhuman senses. He felt sorry for the ordinary lone biker though. Even for him, the ride was fast losing its pleasure.
Some distance west of Hay, Derek turned south off the highway and rode along a sandy dirt road. His friends had sent him a telepathic map of the area. That is the best way of describing it. Derek had a detailed picture of the countryside even though it was dark. About forty kilometres (25 miles) south he reached a sand hill and rode his bike to the top. He spread out his ground sheet, stripped off his jacket and lay on his back looking up at the starry glory of the night sky. It was a warm and balmy night.
Scott was still in a happy daze on the workout bike while Alfred rebuilt his body. Scott's conscious mind was happily just idling along in a state of drug-induced bliss.
The workout bike was a masterpiece of biological engineering. It had been designed by people at Mount Remarkable with a deep understanding of human physiology and biology. Derek had suggested Scott as a possible guinea pig to test it out. He and Hal had magicked into existence the secret room in the garage at Valley Road. The workout bike had been teleported to the secret room. Hal and Derek had plumbed it in and connected it up. This had been done about a week before Scott discovered it. They knew that Scott would not find it until after his family had left for Queensland.
Scott had taken eagerly to having his muscles expanded. He loved the thought of being huge and tremendously strong. He had already become huge and now he was becoming even bigger. This night he was becoming a 300-kilo muscle monster. That was an oversight in Alfred's design. Alfred should never be able to grow a human being to such a monstrous size. Scott's size carried all sorts of disadvantages. His metabolism would struggle to fuel and maintain his huge muscles once all the nutrient goop pumped into his body had been used up. His joints had not been strengthened sufficiently to take the enormous forces exerted by those mighty muscles. If he tried to lift anything really heavy like a motor vehicle, he may damage himself.
It was clear that the parameters of the workout bike would have to be adjusted. The intelligence known as Alfred that inhabited and controlled the workout bike was a tour de force of computer science. Nonetheless, it still had its limitations.
Derek had decided that he would leave Scott at his freakily massive size while he trained Scott to be a superman. If that took longer than expected, then Derek would encourage Scott to lose weight at a slow rate until Scott reached a more normal size at around 150 to 200 kilograms (330 to 440 lb.). Derek would supply Scott with preparations and supplements to keep his body in good shape. However, Derek liked the idea of fucking Scott at such a freakily enormous size.
Derek did not sleep at all. He did not need to. He was quite happy lying on the sand hill looking up at the stars. He communed with his friends who were far away. He was part of a glorious network of love.
When Scott fucked Cave Bear, Derek monitored the two men in the throes of passion with great enjoyment. Scott was like an oversized wet dream. Cave Bear with his bright blue eyes and shaggy brown hair was really sexy in a cute and dopey way. Derek found the thought of fucking the huge man quite attractive.
----------------------------------- Continued in Part 37. -----------------------------------