Warning: This story is dark and disturbing. I wrote it one day just to see if I could. I can. Not sure I really want to do it very often. Sex, violence, and a dark side of the golden hero.

By McJude

 "I don't want to write today, tell me a story."

"If you don't want to write -- why don't . . .

"Please don't start that again. I want to hear a story. Not the ones we know, but one that hasn't been told before. Tell me a story so scary, so horrible that you didn't even tell Gabrielle."

"Nance, I have one so horrible, so scary that I haven't even told Hercules."

"Go ahead."

"It took place after most of our journeys. We had been everywhere; we had faced evil in so many different faces that whenever I looked at something or someone new, I was afraid of what I would see if I looked hard enough.

"I decided I had to get away. I caught a ship, thinking I could go and visit Nebula. I missed her, I guess I still loved her. Travel in those days wasn't very direct. When you got a ship that was going somewhere near where you wanted to go you would catch it, and hope to find another at a port.

"I went through Egypt and ended up on the Red Sea. I shuddered when I heard the crew talk about the Dahak Islands -- that bothered me -- but I needed to get closer to find another ship.

"To make the first part of this story short, the ship never made it through the Red Sea. It hit a coral reef and only a few of us made it to shore. We weren't on the Egyptian side of the sea, but on the other side. It was desert. The driest most God forsaken land I had ever seen.

"We walked along the sea. The only thing that kept us alive was that I could dig for shellfish and we drank their liquid and ate their meat. One by one the three other men with me died. I buried them in the sand. Then one day I thought I saw an oasis in the distance. I started off across the burning sand, away from the only source of life I knew.

"And you died. The sun bleached your bones. That's horrible."

"No, I didn't die, I've died enough to not fear that. What happened there was even worse."

"I can't remember how many days I traveled. No food, the little bit of water I had gone. I kept seeing the oasis, but it kept moving further and further away. I never seemed to reach it. Then one afternoon I decided just to lie down for a few minutes, in the shadow of a dune.

"When I awoke I was in a white tent that appeared to be made of the sheerest silk. I was lying on a bed of the softest Egyptian cotton and my nose was filled with a strange perfume. I had never smelled anything so sweet. I tried to get to my feet and see where I was, but my legs were very, very weak. Even when I finally could stand, I discovered I was too weak to walk. I would fall back to the soft bed or bury my face in the sand.

"Then just as night was about to take away all the light, the door of the tent opened and a most beautiful woman came into my tent. She carried with her a bowl of broth. It was light and delicate and seasoned with spice. She made me drink it. It was delicious. I will never forget how it tasted.

"Then she removed her clothes and proceed to remove mine. Silently, she insisted that we make love."

"Really had to twist your arm on that one," Nance said with an evil grin.

"You have to remember how weak I was. I could barely lift myself from the ground to hold the bowl and drink from it. She would roll me on the ground, stroke my penis and then climb upon me."

"Every Hunter's secret fantasy."

"She kept my naked in the tent. One bowl of broth a day was not what I needed to build up my strength. That and a jug of water, which would be as warm as the desert air. When I finally took a few steps, I awoke to find someone had come into the tent during the night and sliced the bottom of my feet with a knife. I hadn't even felt it, but I couldn't walk.

"She cared for me like a baby. I couldn't even get up to go to the bathroom. A baby, or perhaps an animal. Cleaning out my pen."

"I wondered about that, but didn't want to ask." Nance commented. She had hoped for a funny story of a rollicking adventure.

"One night she brought me a piece of dried fruit. I wasn't even sure what kind of fruit it was, just slightly sweet and chewy. I was so hungry all I could think about was eating it. I would close my eyes and let it grow in my mouth. I would watch, as she would clean my body, and roll me onto a clean ground cloth. I always knew what was coming next. I almost grew to hate it."

"You. This is a horrible story."

"It gets worse, much worse."

"I honestly don't know how long I was there. It seemed like a lifetime. I was getting so very, very thin, I thought I would never be able to walk again. Even if I could walk, where would I go? I didn't even know where I was.

"I remember on night thinking to myself that at least I should be thankful that they were not trying to fatten me up to eat me. It seemed so creative and funny at the time. I laughed to myself for the first time in months.

"I began to think. I needed something to bandage my feet so I could walk. So each night, after she left, I would tear a short strip off the end of one of the sheets and bury it in the sand. Then I would try the best I could, every time I soiled the sheets, to do it near the tear. I figured she would roll that end up quickly and not be as likely to notice. I figured that when I had enough strips I could make them into some sort of a sandal.

"Then one night she brought me a new soup. It was sweeter and had dates in it. I loved it. That night I think I even felt something akin to passion when she crawled upon me. I began to think that unless my weakness robbed me of my manhood, she probably should be pregnant. I don't remember her ever bleeding, but then some women had ways of hiding that.

"I began to relish the date soup, only to find it change again. There were small bits of meat in it. White and tender. It really helped my pick up my spirits. They didn't cut my feet every day, so some days I could actually walk around a bit. I figured if I had to plan my escape for the day just before my feet healed enough to prompt them to come in and cut them again.

"Then, oh Nance, I remember this night so vividly. One night she came in with a bowl of soup. I looked at her and noticed that she was gaining weight. I was excited about the idea of a baby, even though I had absolutely no relationship with the mother other than the act which created it. She never spoke to me, except for strange clucking noises when she cleaned up my dirty sheets.

I was eating the meat with my fingers, thinking that I had become an animal, like the bull chained at the end of a field. I was beginning to forget my former life, and knew I had to escape before it disappeared entirely.

"I decided I had to go the next night, if they didn't cut my feet during the night. I spent the day finding as many strips of cloth as I could find. A number of strips I knotted with bunch of cloth on the sides with a soft pad in between them. I tested walking around the tent and felt that I might be able to travel without too much pain. I tore off a few more strips to secure them to my feet. Actually by this time I had begun burying my waste in the sand, I couldn't stand the smell of it any more. It made me feel, well more human.

"The soup that night had both dates and meat and the sight of my captor did not disgust me as much as she had in recent weeks. I quickly drank off the broth and tore into the soup with both hands. Suddenly I bit down on something hard, slightly chewy. Then I did the dumbest thing I have ever done. I spit it back out into my hand and looked at it.

"For years, Nance, I asked myself, why I just didn't spit it into the sand. I had always assumed the soup was made from some small desert animal. Mouse, rat, I knew despite its taste it had to be something awful. I turned the piece of meat in my hand, expecting to see the leg of a rodent with tiny claws. But It was a finger. A small finger, like that of a very small child, with a tiny fingernail. I vomited on the clean sheets.

"That made her very angry. She yelled at me in her strange language. I knew she would not have sex on that bed now. While she was gone I tied on my shoes and ran out the door of the tent.

"The tent sat by itself along the bank of a small stream. I had no idea where she had gone. I had no idea which way to run. Even though I was sure that going downstream would at least lead to the Sea, I decided to go upstream. Fortunately, I was right.

"At least had fresh water. I walked in the water to ease my feet expecting with every bend I would find her village and her people would kill me.

"Then one day I saw a group of people standing along the stream. They had camels and goats and women and children. I don't know why they even recognized me as human, I was sunburned and my hair was down to the middle of my back. I was naked except for my rag shoes. But not only did they recognize me, they spoke a language I knew. They gave me fruit and cheese, but I couldn't eat meat. I didn't touch meat until one night they roasted a whole goat. I watched them tie it to the spit and assured myself that it was really goat.

"The story, or as they told me 'the myth' was that that part of the desert was inhabited by a witch who would stalk the desert looking for caravans that had women and children. She would steal a small child and take it into the desert. There had been tales of other groups finding the bones of children white in the sand, hacked up as if they had been butchered.

"This group was prepared and always put the women and children in a tent in the center of camp. They would always have two men on guard watching for her to come. As I grew stronger I joined them. The nights were long, dark and silent.

"Then one night I heard a sound I recognized immediately. The sound of the footfalls I had heard for so many nights in the tent. She carried a large knife in one hand. One look and I knew she was definitely pregnant. She lunged at my fellow guard and missed. I sprang after her and she ran, into the desert. I don't know if she recognized me or not, although I think I was probably the only blonde in the entire desert. I ran after her. A hate, disgust, a feeling I never knew could exist in a man. The only thing I was sure of was that I was a man, a human, and she had no right to be one.

"I knocked her down and grabbed her knife. I began stabbing. I stabbed her chest, her breast, and her stomach. I wanted her dead! I watched her blood run out of her body in the light quarter moon overhead, and I realized that I had not only killed her, but I had killed my own child."

Nance was crying, he was crying. How and why had he inflicted this story on the woman whose bond with him had been laughter? He wouldn't blame her if she told him to go and never, never come back. Then she looked at him, and he knew the woman he loved was still there, behind the tears.

"Well I certainly can see why you never shared that story with Herc or Gabrielle. As a matter of fact, I don't think you should even tell Ares."

He hugged her and disappeared. Next time he came he was going to have to bring flowers or even jewelry.