Tropical paradise
A tropical paradise and hot chicks. That's how a friend from the extreme sex club described this place to us.
"No restrictions," he continued to paint the picture. "Give a small bribe to the local natives, and all their women are yours. They don't mind themselves."
We, three old friends—me, Anton, Slavik, and Georgy, also known as Zhora—listened to him attentively. Such rumors had been circulating among our friends for a long time, but no one really knew where it was or if it was even true. And then a comrade fell into our laps who knew where it was and had been there more than once. Naturally, we were intrigued.
I couldn't sleep tonight.
Beautiful black beauties, whom we would soon go to, kept flashing before my eyes. We agreed on it almost immediately. Time passed slowly. Work took up all my time, but then the moment of truth arrived. But with Slavik and Zhora, there was a hitch. They were held up with urgent work. Fairly reasoning that I could handle it myself until my friends caught up, I decided not to wait for them.The next item on the agenda was to find a carrier. The archipelago had many islands, and only local guides and natives knew where to go next. This also wasn't too difficult. They advertised themselves right at the pier.
As a result, the next morning we were already rocking on a fishing boat heading in the direction we needed. The voyage was supposed to be long. Not shy of the fishermen busy with their own affairs, I lay down to rest.
I was watching some interesting dream, not without the participation of the black beauties I was sailing to, when I was mercilessly yanked out of it. The next moment I understood why. We were being tossed mercilessly, and the sky promised nothing good. The fishermen were running around and doing something, shouting fiercely in their guttural language. I didn't understand anything, but it was clear they really didn't like the weather. I tried to find my intermediary, but he wasn't on board, and the fishermen didn't know any other languages.
It so happened that at some point I couldn't hold on and fell overboard. I shouted as loud as I could, but the fishermen couldn't hear me over the terrible noise around. At least a barrel was floating by. Clinging to it, I started praying.
Apparently, the prayer worked because the next morning I woke up on a wild beach. The joy of being saved was replaced by despair. How could I be found in such a forgotten corner? But I'm an optimist and had to get out of here. I didn't even want to think about the black goddesses of sex anymore. The first day on the island—and it was an island, I saw it from the mountain—was full of struggle for survival. At least coconuts and very green bananas grew here. The food was so-so, but it helped me survive the day.
The next morning, I decided to explore the island completely. Maybe there was a fishing village somewhere, and I was suffering here for nothing. The idea worked, though not quite as I imagined. Walking along the beach, I found a path. Overjoyed, I followed it and after a few minutes came to a village. It was a local tribe.
Walking through it, I greeted everyone. "Hello, hello," but in response, only silence and appraising glances from the native women. Yes, my acquaintance didn't lie; they were indeed beautiful. Especially with all that piercing. Large, long beads in several rows covered their chests, and a small strip of fabric in front and back covered their crotches. They also all had many small braids. Beautiful and exotic. The main thing was that they were all women. All had very wide hips and breasts no smaller than a C-cup. I had never seen such an abundance of lush and attractive forms anywhere else.
"Well, it was worth coming for such beauties," I thought.
Finally, I met someone endowed with authority, judging by his appearance. He, an old man, was saying something to me in his language, which I didn't know. All I could do was nod. He understood that, and I wanted to get things sorted out quickly.
In the end, language is not the only means of communication. There was another. It had been straining in my shorts for a long time, giving me away completely. Apparently, he understood. Calling one of the women, he said something to her. She, smiling joyfully, led me somewhere. It was her hut.
Quickly and without embarrassment, she pulled off my pants and T-shirt. Ready for work and defense, my cock joyfully jumped out to meet her. Saying something in her incomprehensible language, she began to caress it. Already overexcited by so many lush black beauties, it rocked joyfully in her hands.
I forgot to mention, all the native women had small rings made of natural material inserted into the middle part of their noses. They slightly spread their nostrils, making their noses seem wide. But it looked beautiful and interesting. From these rings, threads hung down to their chins. Some had more, some less. Sometimes, among the light threads, there were bright colored ones. There weren't many of those. Real exoticism.
After sex, my stomach demanded food, rumbling loudly. My partner understood everything and led me to the kitchen. Actually, it was a fire with a tripod, but what was cooking in the pot made my stomach surrender from hunger. It looked so delicious. The food tasted pretty good too.
And so my days stretched on. I alternated sex with black beauties with food and sleep. The only thing was that my clothes disappeared the very next morning. Instead of shorts and a T-shirt, there were beads and a loincloth covering my cock. I didn't protest. First, it was useless. We didn't understand each other anyway, and second, it made me feel like a native.
The only hindrance was the very bright sun, but the women rubbed me with ointment, and I didn't get sunburned. On the contrary, after a week in this paradise, I acquired a beautiful chocolate tan. I'd have something to boast about when I got home.
A week passed, as I said, and then everyone started running around, preparing for something. They were setting up a large tent on the "square," preparing a big fire. They had such a place where they constantly gathered, danced, and just spent most of their time.
Soon, everything became clear. Boats of the local hunter natives, the men of the tribe, appeared from the shore. To be honest, I got a little scared. What if they find out—and they will—that I've been living here for so many days and fucking their women? It doesn't look good. This isn't a civilized country; the rules are different here. But there was nowhere to go, so I started waiting.
The women were greeting their men, and I watched from the side. Soon it was my turn to introduce myself.
"Zuavu," the women called me. At least, that's how they addressed me. Apparently, they translated the word "hello" as my name and now only called me that.
A not-so-small warrior—and it was him—introduced himself and began to examine me. Judging by his face, the result didn't impress him. And what was there to impress? One meter eighty tall and 70 kilograms in weight. Far from athletic build. You don't get very buff as a programmer, and besides, I'm lazy. The man himself was about the same height but, judging by his appearance, weighed at least 90 kilograms, with not a gram of fat.
He shouted something to everyone. Calling me, he went to that same old man who had met me. We entered the tent where many plants were drying and cooking. A real alchemist's shop. He looked up at me and offered me to look into a basket. There wasn't much to see. Beads and an arrowhead. With a gesture, he offered me to take something. I didn't know what to take, or why? But I was being pushed.
Arriving in the village, we, the whole crowd, immediately went to the square. Me and another young but already seasoned warrior were left in a circle. I was offered a spear or beads. Without hesitation, I took the jewelry. I didn't need a duel today. I'm a man of peace.
When the third set of beads was placed on my shoulders today, I was immediately surrounded by women who started dancing. They could dance for hours, and that's what they did. By the end of the dance, I could barely stand on my feet. After that, everyone went to eat at the common table. The locals were saying something, and I didn't understand anything at all. The fatigue of the day and the overwhelming sleepiness were taking their toll. I didn't even notice how I fell asleep right at the table.
I was brought to consciousness by a wild pain between my legs. I reached to check what was hurting there, but someone's hand gently but firmly moved it aside. The pain didn't subside, shooting through with extremely unpleasant sensations from time to time.
I opened my eyes. I was in a hut, and one of the oldest women was sitting over me. She had so many threads in her ring that the fringe from them covered her entire lower face. She was patiently smearing me with some ointment, and it was definitely not "sunscreen." It smelled very spicy. All the women in the village rubbed themselves with this ointment.
The pain didn't go away, and I tried to get up to see what was there. Unexpectedly, something touched my lips. I slowly felt a ring in my nose. There were no threads on it yet, but it was a woman's ring. I hadn't seen such an attribute on men.
Panic seized me, and I tried to tear it off. The woman said something soothingly. Damn, when will I start understanding them? Maybe they're calling me names behind my back, and I'm smiling at them. The pain below the waist reminded me of itself again. I looked down and was stunned. The strip of fabric covering my equipment was pulled aside, but there was no cock or balls there. At all.
There was a wound, which was hurting now. It was being treated with that same ointment, the smell of which I noticed. Sniffing, I realized my whole body smelled of this aroma.
I lay down and lay there while the procedures were going on. "What kind of man am I now without balls? And no cock either." I lay like that until I was left alone. I began to slowly explore what was left for me. Actually, if you didn't know that there was a cock there just yesterday, all this could be mistaken for a sewn-up vagina. That's the last thing I needed.
There was a wound, but whoever did the cutting was clearly a medic. Everything was sewn up cleanly, the necessary holes for going to the bathroom were in place. While I was distracted examining myself, the understanding of the situation overwhelmed me. I was in a women's village, and my manhood had been taken away. A ring was put in my nose. Now, by all indications, I was a woman of the tribe.
The next time I woke up with a terrible feeling that happens after nightmares. But, to my horror, everything turned out to be real. The spicy-smelling ointment, the absence of a cock, and female identity.
This continued for about a week.
My body no longer hurt, but inside I felt worse than ever. Seeing that the treatment and ointment were helping, they kicked me out to work. Now I was no different from the local inhabitants. An even chocolate tan completely covered my body. I got used to the ointment they constantly smeared me with and didn't even notice its smell anymore. My body was still thin and not at all feminine, but I was steadily gaining weight. Mostly it settled on my hips, but my body got its share too. At any rate, I already had an A-cup.
Seeing that I had come to my senses, they immediately put me to work. After a week of familiarizing myself with household chores, I was already doing everything I had only seen the women do before. Such hard and boring work soon made me forget about my inner pain and completely devote myself to housekeeping.
This distracted me from another big problem. I wanted to fuck. But with the absence of the appropriate organ, both male and female, I couldn't and only endured the desire. And it was huge and overwhelming. The cream they constantly smeared me with was doing something to my libido. All day, even if I was very tired and busy, I was wet. Like a real bitch. My hips, now pleasantly rounded, were constantly wet from the lubrication flowing out of me in streams. It was so unbearable that I was ready to jump on any cock that desired me. But only women, children, and old men remained in the village. Massaging my breasts helped a little. My nipples suddenly gained incredible sensitivity, and rubbing against the beads gave pleasure.
I remembered those days when I first appeared here. I had never had as much sex as then. Now it's clear why. If everyone here suffers the same way... I shuddered at the thought. And they also made me dance. It's hard to call it dancing, but it took a lot of patience and effort. The characteristic movements of the hips and breasts were arousing, and if repeated for hours, they drove you crazy. So, thinking about the fact that I was no longer a man became something I had no time for, and I got tired of suffering.
The long period of language immersion bore fruit. I finally began to distinguish individual words. By the day the men of the tribe were supposed to arrive, I had completely settled into the village. It was hard to think of myself as a man, having nothing between my legs, and with constant desire. In general, without expecting it myself, I was eagerly awaiting the men.
As last time, we began preparing the square. Having smeared ourselves well with the ointment—and everyone did—we went to meet them. I walked with the other village women and caught myself thinking that I was already little different from them. Except I didn't have a big ass or D-cup breasts. But it's unlikely anyone could mistake me for a man now. I was proud of my small but already beautiful figure. Here I was a skinny one, but in civilization, everyone would surely turn their heads on the street.
The celebration began. First, the hunters' dance, where they showed how they hunted. Then the dedication to Mother Earth. This dance was ours, the women's. By sunset, all the obligatory dances had been performed, and the festive table had been eaten.
All the women were noticeably excited, and I think I know why. As I thought, the time for mating dances had come. We, the women, danced in a circle, trying to show as much as possible. From time to time, warriors took women into the tent, from where passionate sounds could be heard. We, who were still dancing, became more aroused and danced more and more lewdly. The streams of lubrication on our thighs looked very attractive in the torchlight.
My turn to dance came. That same one who led me to the waterfall and the elder looked at me for a long time. Taking me out of the circle, he led me into the tent. I didn't care anymore; that's how much I wanted him. Falling onto the hide, I spread my legs invitingly. During the time the men were away, I had changed a lot, and he liked it.
"Zuavu!" he growled, taking my virginity.
I must say that the black men's cocks were not small at all. Entering me, his simply tore me in half. The pain was wild, but the desire was no less. I was flowing like a waterfall I never jumped into. He was saying something, but I didn't care. I wanted him completely. Despite the wild pain, I impaled myself again and again. At some point, the pain receded, and all the arousal suddenly burst out at once. It was as if I was turned off and on again. I had no control over myself at all. Jerking on the huge cock, I was blissful as never before in my life. I moaned like a real woman, writhing on my first man. When we finished, I couldn't move anymore, I was so tired. Entering me for the last time, he finally came. Flooding me with his hot sperm, he got out and lifted me from the bedding.
When we came out, many looked at us with interest. Saying something again—I only understood "woman"—he let me go back into the circle, first tying the first white thread on my nose ring. Today we were supposed to dance for the men until the last.
We danced. The women understood perfectly well that they wouldn't have sex again soon and encouraged the men to feats in every way.
I was in the tent a few more times. Each