Red Hat

Red Hat 红帽

© by the author 2017

The pantheon of gods is crowded. Not all gods are equally endowed, however. A handful of superstars boast of devotees numbering in the hundreds of millions. Such figures are rare, however. Most gods consider themselves lucky to be worshipped by a few thousand people.

And then there are the gods whose fortunes have waned. Despite their powers, they now go unworshipped. In former times, their followers erected temples to them. They painted them festive colors and covered the altars and images with gold foil. On feast days, fervent throngs poured through the gates and crowded the precincts, garlanding the statues of the god and begging for favors. The donation boxes overflowed with silver and gold coins. Monks and priests wreathed in clouds of incense chanted praises of the god around the clock.

But the glory days have passed. The last temple is a decaying building. Its walls are covered with tattered posters advertising movies no one remembers and campaign posters for politicians now languishing in jail. Termites infest the pillars and beams. Rainwater dripping through broken roof tiles warps the floor boards. Feral cats sleep on the altars and hunt for mice in the weed-choked courtyard. The gilt on the image has worn away.

Hong Mao is one such god. Five centuries ago he arrived in the ports of the Malay Peninsula with the influx of Chinese migrants. He was a powerful protector god, much beloved of the coolies who worked endless hours on the docks loading the spice ships bound for Europe or who labored beneath the grueling tropical sun on the rubber plantations. Hong Mao was the champion of the downtrodden, the advocate of the poor. As befitted a god who needed to be strong for people who eked out a life on the margins earning coppers per day, he was portrayed as a shining youth, muscular and strong.

As the immigrants flourished and their children became the prosperous citizens of Singapore, they turned to other gods. Hong Mao was a victim of his own success. He protected the immigrants so well that they no longer needed him. His shrines dwindled to a handful of decrepit shacks on unfrequented alleyways. Eventually only one temple was left. When the aged monk who was the last caretaker died, the city authorities padlocked the gates and put the property up for auction. The developer who bought the land sold the contents of the temple to a junk dealer and razed the building.

***

“What do these characters mean?”

The clerk put down the newspaper he was reading and walked over to the back corner of the curio shop where the foreigner was rooting around. The owner reserved that area of the store for the real junk—old, unwanted stuff that he bought for a pittance from people cleaning out storerooms or disposing of their deceased grandparents’ belongings, things so worn and damaged that nobody but an ignorant foreigner would be interested in them. The piece of wood the foreigner was pointing at was so rotten that the clerk didn’t trust himself to pick it up. It looked like it would fall apart if he touched it. He bent down to squint at the two characters 红帽 carved into the base of the statue.

“Hong mao. It means ‘red hat’.” The clerk mentally shook his head in disgust. It was hard to understand foreigners. They found the oddest things of interest. Still a sale was a sale. “Very powerful god,” he lied. “Bring you good luck.”

“Red hat? That’s a strange name for a god.”

“Red is lucky color in Chinese. We Chinese like puns, and mao also means prosperous. So the name means good luck and great fortune.”  The clerk congratulated himself on thinking so quickly. How he had outwitted the foreigner and got him to buy a worthless piece of trash would make a good story for later.

“What’s that he holding in his right hand?”

“It’s called ruyi bang. ‘Ruyi’ means ‘as you desire,’ and ‘bang’ is a stick, a baton. It means the god will grant your wishes.”

“How much is it?”

 “Very rare. Old. One of a kind.” He stalled for time while he assessed the foreigner. The foreigner was young, maybe a student. He couldn’t ask too much. “But missing the red hat. So I let it go cheap. Fifty Singapore dollars.”

The foreigner scowled. “Thirty.”

Obviously the foreigner had heard that you were expected to bargain in shops like this. The clerk smiled. Thirty was twenty-nine more dollars than the thing was worth. “Okay. You can have it for $30.” He gingerly lifted the statue from the shelf and carried it over to the counter before the idiot could change his mind. He only hoped that he could wrap the thing without breaking it. “You should buy a red hat for it. That will make the god happy, and he will bring you even more luck.” As soon as he spoke, he knew he had gone too far. Not even a stupid foreigner would believe that. He laughed to show that he was joking.

***

Rufus Dezoek carefully cut the twine and removed the sheets of newspaper that the clerk had used to cover his latest acquisition. His apartment wasn’t large—rents in Singapore weren’t cheap, and even with the generous overseas posting allowance his company gave him, he couldn’t afford much space—but he thought he was decorating it well. The statue of Red Hat would fit perfectly on the old wooden altar table he had bought on a previous foray into the antiques district. He would have to check out pictures on the internet to see if he could find what else should go on an altar table, but Red Hat obviously would have pride of place.

He had even had a stroke of luck on the way back—he didn’t believe what the clerk in the antique store had said about the god bringing him good luck—the people in those stores would say anything to get you to buy something—but it was too much of a coincidence to ignore. He had passed a children’s toy store on the way back, and there in the window had been a display of small hats. One of them was red and looked just the right size. It was a cowboy hat, which would make a nice touch of whimsy and a good story to tell. “The guy in the store said I should buy a red hat to please the god and make him grant my wishes. A few minutes later I was passing this other store, and there in the window was a red hat. I couldn’t resist.”

Rufus set the figure on top of the altar table. It was odd—it had looked much more fragile in the store. Still he didn’t want to handle it too much. Traces of gilt paint clung to the surface, and he suspected that dusting the statue with even the softest of brushes would dislodge them. He adjusted a light so that it shone gently on the figure.

Whoever had carved the figure had had an appreciation of the male physique. The statue depicted a virile man, nude except for the groin area, where the artist had incised a small cloth covering in the wood. Red Hat had a beautifully developed torso and great legs and arms. All the muscles were carved in realistic detail, including suggestions of veins. The pecs even sported prominent nipples, and the wisp of fabric covering the groin did nothing to hide the fact that Red Hat was spectacularly well endowed. What had the clerk said the Chinese name was? Hong Mao? Maybe he should re-christen it Hung Wow.

He gently placed the hat on the figure’s head. He regarded the statue with satisfaction. The hat fit perfectly, almost as if it had been made to order. It really improved the appearance of the statue. It really did look much better than it had in the shop. If he didn’t know better, he would almost swear that it was somehow miraculously healing itself. “There. You’re back in business, Red Hat.” Rufus brought his hands together in a gesture of supplication, bowed his head, and closed his eyes. “Mighty Red Hat, bring me good luck and grant my wishes.” 

***

The new devotee was an odd one. He was the first of Hong Mao’s worshippers to address him in a language other than Chinese. In fact, he was the first of Hong Mao’s worshippers to be a Caucasian. Perhaps that boded well. Now that his Chinese followers had deserted him, he might find replacements among these new people. Plus he liked his new hat. It made him look jaunty. This Rufus might have different wishes from those of his previous adherents, but he still had wishes. That much hadn’t changed. As long as this Rufus continued to show the proper respect, he would consider granting the man’s desires—even though they were somewhat queer.

***

“What’s this?”

“I found it an antique store last weekend. He’s called Red Hat.” Rufus took a second look at the statue. He could swear that it had more gilt than it had before. It really had been a lucky find. He couldn’t believe that it had looked so decrepit in that shop. All it had needed was a bit of attention. But the statue could wait. His guest deserved all his attention. Who knew that the Australian rep for the company was such a gorgeous hunk? Colin must spend every spare moment at the gym working his body. It was labor well spent. Granted Colin wasn’t the behemoth of Rufus’s dreams, but he would do. His shirt may have concealed the actual flesh, but it clung to his torso well enough to reveal that Colin’s pecs were well developed. Yes, Colin would do quite nicely.

“Up here.” Colin smirked at him, gesturing at his face. “I’m more than just a pair of great tits.”

“You’re a mind reader. Sorry. I’m a bit of a pec man.” Rufus tore his eyes away from Colin’s chest and looked at his face. “Make a wish. Red Hat will grant you what you want.”

Colin laughed. “Sure, why not? Can’t hurt.” Colin placed his palms together at chest height, a gesture that caused his lats to flare out and his biceps to bulge.

Rufus moaned silently. Things just kept getting better and better. “Go ahead,” he said. “Tell Red Hat what you want.”

Colin thought for a moment and then said, “O Most Powerful and Gracious Red Hat, read my thoughts and give me what I most desire.” He bowed to the statue and paused for a few seconds with a look of devotion on his face before turning back toward his host. He slowly began unbuttoning his shirt. “And now, Rufus, I’m about to grant you yours.”

***

Another follower. After years of neglect, two new supplicants in one week. Things were looking up. Hong Mao took his new admirer at his word. He delved into Colin’s mind and discovered what the man most desired. Another odd request, but certainly within the scope of his powers. It was a simple matter to arrange.

***

Colin’s pecs were even bigger than Rufus expected. That shirt had concealed more than seemed possible. When Colin impatiently ripped his T-shirt apart and tossed the shreds to the floor, Rufus couldn’t help himself. The sight of Colin’s chest struck him like a punch in the gut. He moaned in surprise—this time aloud. That testament to the sudden lust overwhelming him escaped his lips without conscious thought. It was as if Colin’s body were expanding as it escaped the confines of his clothing. Within a split second, he grew into a behemoth.

Colin’s chest matched his ideal, the dream Rufus had constructed from hours of online viewing. Colin’s pecs were massive chunks of hard flesh. The bottoms were perfect arcs of golden muscle overhanging Colin’s eight-pack. They swelled outward from his collarbone and shoulders. They were so well developed that the mounds pushed together in the middle, concealing the cleft over the breastbone.

As if that weren’t enough, the areoles surrounding the nipples were dark circles two inches in diameter. The nipples themselves stood up half an inch. He couldn’t take his eyes off them. He had once read a story in which a man had been hypnotized by nipples like these. He could understand how that might happen.

Rufus licked his lips. He needed to kiss those pecs, those nipples, to lick them, to taste them, to suck on them, to pull them into his mouth. He pushed his nose between the mounds and began licking the skin between them. Just as he had always dreamed of a partner’s doing, Colin began bouncing his pecs, alternating the contractions. First right, then left, then right again. His face was imprisoned within the grasp of Colin’s pecs as he thrust his tongue deeper into the cleft. It was hard to breathe with his nose buried between Colin’s pecs, but he didn’t care. What a way to die—suffocation by muscle.

Colin’s hands sought out Rufus’s belt and unfastened it. He unzipped Rufus’s pants and pushed them down. Rufus’s shirt and underwear suffered the same fate as Colin’s T-shirt. Colin ripped them off Rufus’s body. A few seconds later, both men were nude. Colin lifted Rufus in his arms and in one smooth motion impaled Rufus on his cock. Rufus wrapped his legs around Colin’s hips. His mouth sought our Colin’s right nipple, and he began sucking on it.

Colin’s response was perfect. His groan of lust overwhelmed Rufus. The perfect man had perfectly sensitive nipples—just as he always wanted. Colin pinioned the back of Rufus’s head in the crook of his elbow and pressed Rufus’s face against his pec. Rufus didn’t need any more encouragement. He attacked the nipple, sucking it into his mouth, greedily licking it and stroking it with his tongue. Colin flexed his bicep, forcing his nipple deeper into Rufus’s mouth.

The nipple was so large. He had sucked smaller cocks. It filled his mouth and surged into his throat. He knew that it had to be an illusion, but it felt as if he were being deep-throat face-fucked by Colin’s nipple. It was so hard, so demanding. It flowed smoothly in and out of his mouth as he gasped for breath between strokes.

Rufus still clung to Colin’s upright body. He hadn’t noticed it before, but he was so much smaller than Colin, shorter, lighter. He thrust his torso down, forcing Colin’s cock further into him. The man was huge. In the past he had screamed with pain when someone fucked him, but not this time. This time it was wonderful. The big man’s power filled the void inside him.

“You’re so tight,” said Colin. “I’ve always dreamed of someone this tight. It’s just perfect. And you’re just the right size.”

Rufus couldn’t do anything more than moan in response. Colin’s nipple was pumping what tasted like cum into his mouth. He swallowed it greedily.

Colin screamed with pleasure. “Oh, I wish we could stay like this forever.”

Rufus tore his mouth off Colin’s nipple long enough to howl, “Yes. Forever,” Another gusher of cum spewed out of Colin’s nipple, coating his lips and face. He attached himself to Colin’s nipple again and sucked the cum down his throat.

***

 Red Hat pondered the two men’s new wish. Of course, it was simply a matter of an inter-dimensional  space-time shift, a displacement of matter from this realm into one of the many universes at his disposal. He had transported many of his worshippers from this place to the state of being they called “paradise.” Usually he did so just as they were dying. Even those who devoutly expected to spend the rest of eternity in ”heaven” weren’t anxious to do so immediately. But Rufus and Colin had asked so nicely. He would transport them eventually. But why wait? They were ready. They were already locked together in an ecstatic joining of flesh. Nothing could be simpler

***

Colin and Rufus came at the same moment. Colin gave a final thrust upwards into Rufus’s body just as Rufus’s cock exploded. There was a flash of golden light as Red Hat transported them. The two were frozen in an embrace, Rufus sucking on Colin’s nipple as it pumped cum into his mouth, his ass tightly sealed around Colin’s hard cock as it plowed deeply into him, and his own cock spewing cum over their bodies. They would spend eternity continually experiencing the instant of orgasm.