For those of us at Hacienda Forest, our first ever kha-rat in the Mother's Meadow had been last September, one month shy of a year ago. This latest was our 11th, and they've all been amazingly successful, but back then none of us were certain that humans could or should do it at all. Foremost because the size and weight differences of humans and squatches seemed inherently dangerous, but we were also nervous about what a drastic morality shift it would require of everyone, although we all yearned to try it out anyway. I mean, the very concept of humans subjecting their relatively small bodies to the rigors of a supercharged and uninhibited sex orgy with a crowd of extremely horny Sasquatches was intimidating for the humans, to say the least. The only one of us who'd ever experienced a kha-rat before was me, and I was warning them against it, concerned for their safety. But as you readers all know by now, we survived it, enjoyed it and had our minds telepathically blown by it. It was an ultimate sexual experience, hyper-overwhelming but still innately enjoyable because we humans became just as supercharged as our squatch lovers due to the erotic magic of shyøma. Even so, the psychedelic effects on our perceptions outweighed the physical impact of all that raw sex: we'd been to the Moon. Literally. Perhaps on the Astral Plane instead of this reality, but we were out there and touched something. The media world was very interested in whatever we were doing on any and every full moon night, having had access to our leaked AooE Document and therefore being well aware of the kha-rat story line. Which we neither confirm nor deny, as all part of the game. So on most full moon nights there are always media folk trying to sneak around our woods, photographers, journalists, looking for some evidence of "whatever", one way or another. The National Inquisitor scandal tabloid almost always sends a helicopter to circle above our Hacienda grounds, hovering or making passes up there. Now they use spy drones without lights, almost silent, but we squatches can still see and hear them. But they never seem to end up with any usable pictures or evidence, because we've got multiple Sha-hakas doing anti-skesk magic; the drones get lost, the on-foot witnesses get confused, some even succumb to the shyøma and become participants in the orgy, but usually don't wish to report that, afraid they might somehow incriminate themselves of having fun on the job.
This time we were a substantial crowd by sundown-- our biggest ever --most squatches arriving through the thick rain forest stretching down from the Cascades, unobserved by human eyes. Many old friends with whom we have shared kha-rats before: Mastinta, old Dannat and his wives Mawa and Malla come in from their cave-dwelling. The 10 regulars we currently have living in our "Refugee Camp", including Dagroloyt and Daklakht, just come back in from their patrol routes in the foothills. Some fellow students I know from Aket, or have met in my troubador wanderings. All in all 29 squatches, 30 including me, which is a LOT of muscle and hair, considering that an average kha-rat is typically no more than 8-14 squatches max, depending on how many friends you have. It's not a stadium sport. Although this time we've had all these humans participating (the traditionally uninvited NokhSos), to really push the crowd numbers up higher than ever before. Besides our Hacienda folk (9 not counting me as a human) we had our Chrome Pie guests (6) and their roadies (7) visiting us from LA, so that's...well, I'm not good at math, but you can see that's a big fat number of people at one measely kha-rat. One reason our Mother's Meadow kha-rats have become so popular is due to the participation of humans, which generally NEVER happens anywhere else. Not even in Shamballah North of the Himalayas, where Nokhons (Yetis) and Tibetan monks openly share a secret town... of course, they're all monks, so no kha-rat sexy-fun for them, I guess. Anyway, the Nokhontli avoid humanity because they may one day have to destroy Man's civilizations to save the world, according to the Atli. But we get away with it here because I'm supposed to be The Negotiater, having been bred to the job, and having received that magical spirit-vision assigning me to convince the races to co-operate instead of continuing to be alienated. I know, you've heard all this before, but I need to mention why many traditional Nokhons may consider me to be the Atli's version of The Antichrist. For establishing the Nokhon Nation Project, for example. And for introducing humans to the kha-rat, which seems like it's just some sex-fun at first, but results in understanding each other's species on a spiritual level; language, culture, motivations. And the Nokhons find that they especially like screwing with the delicate little bare-skinned humans, just as those humans surrender to the power fuck a healthy and horny Bigfoot can deliver. You'll notice that I do not delineate between the sexes, it seems to be pretty much the same for males or females. The females exude the smell, but the aphrodisiac effect of shyømais shared equally.
Being reunited with our Chrome Pie musical friends, we started the festivities by playing an acoustic set of our usual Chrome Squatch song repertoir. That got loud, of course, which was deliberate. We had "leaked" to the media that we were throwing a very private party in our meadow, admission controlled by hired professional bouncers to keep any public without tickets out of the Hacienda grounds. They had instructions to keep any gate crashers-- including themselves-- out of the Mother's Meadow. We let slip a hint that dozens of ferociously wild Sasquatches might just stampede-- or something --and it would be best not to get in their way. So we had privacy on the grounds. Spies in the sky was minor problem this time: mostly small stealth drones with surveillance cameras swarming over our heads. But we had about ten Sha-hakas among us, adept at confusing human senses. They have no real defenses against advanced technology, but they are quite good at messing with normal human perceptions at a distance; blurring vision and muffled hearing. Hi-res hi-tech screen images don't help much if you can't see them. Speaking of spies, we have one living here at the Hacienda with us, namely Agent John Stinger, who knows about the kha-rats but has declined to take part-- up to now, that is. I don't think it's because he's afraid (he's too much of a James Bond clone for that) or moral qualms (again, Bond clone). He's very disciplined, I hear. And very useful at arranging things on a governmental level. He's also saved Art and Elaine's lives, which gives big points. We suspect that he must be reporting some things to some authority somewhere, but he seems to be on our side. Anyway, we trust him not to be blowing any whistles to the wrong people. Much the same could be said about Roberto Mexicano, who would probably LIKE to be a spy allowed to investigate what is going on out in the Mother's Meadow every full moon night. But he understands why we can't just let him join in on the fun, between his dad and the local immorality cartel. Bart tells him everything anyway. Meanwhile, back at the kha-rat, well, I don't need to describe all the juiciness going on, you've heard all that stuff before too. Everybody had everybody, of course, over and over again. Here's for someone good at math: we had 52 participants --I think-- and everybody strived to try fornicate with everybody else at least once each, just to be polite, but they all find favorites that they want to bone more than once, maybe many times. And this time we had 14 squatch females oozing so much shyøma that it intensified carnal desire to a chain reaction fever pitch. So how many fucks did everyone average? Me niether, no idea. But I had a good time and I think everybody else did too.
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