; ; Yes.... these girls were from the Rock-Snake Tribe, a ; moderately-esteemed bloodline whose warriors had been ; encroaching aggressively upon these lands from their native ; villages in the lower country. The man adjusted the ; sand-colored rags he had swathed himself with, as keen eyes ; studied the party. Each of these girls he knew, were capable ; of bearing young, probably had been for many years, but they ; would not be admitted as full members of the Rock-Snake Tribe ; until they succeeded in the Hunt, succeeded in the ; Hym'enaria. In truth, the man bore them no ill will, he would ; have almost wished them luck....
; ; except that he was the Prey!
; ; The rumors had whispered that the Hunting was hard this year, ; the tribes, especially in the Lower country where growing ; desperate....well, more desperate than usual. Traditionally, ; no more than five girls were sent forth on the Hym'enaria at ; one time, and in good years they would be sent out as soon as ; they were old enough to notch an arrow. But according to tales ; whispered in depressed voices, many tribes were forcing the ; girls to wait until they were nearly eighteen Summers in age ; before they were allowed to begin! The elders reasoning that ; older, stronger girls were more likely to bring back a ; suitable bounty. That seemed to be the case with this party.
; ; Confident in his camoflauge against the bland-colored ; boulders, the man crawled forward to get a closer ; view. Yes... these girls were each fit and lithely muscled, ; the snake-skin loin-cloths scarcely concealing the trim ; muscles of their shapely thighs. The leader had rubbed both of ; her nipples; that was the signal to begin a silent ; conversation. The girls needed to plan, to plot, and no one, ; especially not their quarry, could be allowed to ; overhear. Even at a great distance, the anxious determination ; was plain in the way that the huntresses carried ; themselves. Though these were lean times, the Elders of the ; Rock-Snake Tribe would not tolerate failure. If their ; Hym'enaria failed to capture a man in the allotted time, each ; member would be branded a Nun, a lesser female unworthy of ; sex, unworthy to produce young. They would be honorless ; outcasts for their rest of their lives, with no rights or ; status. A cruel fate, but the Deserts were harsh, and the ; Elders of....most every tribe deemed that only the fittest ; should be allowed to breed.
; ; Snake-skin halters were removed, and breasts swung free on the ; slender chests of the young huntresses. During travel, they ; usually maintained a smaller bust, each of the eight pairs of ; breast flesh no larger than tangerines. Nipples quickly ; engorged, flesh throbbed, as the hunting party prepared for ; silent communication. The sun gleamed off the creamy surface ; of each tit, as they expanded, almost in unison, in a steady ; creep into the size of full oranges, aureoles spreading and ; nipples lengthening as they neared a girth and length not ; unlike that of a grapefruit. The leader of the band, marked ; by three red feathers in her auburn hair gave each breast a ; gentle slap, to test their jiggle. Satisfied that her feminine ; globes had the minimum necessary inertia, she began. The man ; watching her display of course understood perfectly. No male ; could grow up amongst the tribes without fully understanding ; Boob. But naturally, being male, he could never express the ; Breast-play language himself, but he understood perfectly. ; Gentle slaps to the breast were used to make consonants, The ; girls' powers of vascular control were used to expand or ; shrink the breasts to denote most verbs, and the tense of ; each. A speaker of Boob would shake her chest in a variety of ; ways, the jiggle patterns of her womanly spheres used to ; spell-out nouns. With pinches to the nipples for punctuation.
; ; The leader's tits swelled, her natural powers enlarging her ; bosoms another inch forward, as she slapped herself twice, and ; made two quick jiggles. Translation was second-nature to the ; man watching.
; ; " HE- CAME - THIS - WAY..." she signaled. A shorter, angrier ; girl with a pert nose, broader hips, and painted with red ; lightning bolts on her face confronted the leader, raising her ; arms and jiggling her mammalian melons rapidly.
; ; " - FOR - YOUR - SAKE, HE- HAD - BETTER!" A quick pinch to her ; nipples denoted an exclamation. " I'LL - NOT - LIVE - OUT - MY ; - DAYS- AS - A - NUN!" The way she defiantly thrust out her ; bulging bosoms expressed a serious threat.
; ; A thinner girl with longer hair stepped in the mix, she ran a ; hand over her grapefruit-sized breasts, then offered up the ; right one by placing her hand underneath the swell of tit, as ; if she was offering to suckle.
; ; " - BE - AT - EASE, WE - ARE - ALL - CERTAIN." She must be a ; peace-maker, a natural mediator of disputes.
; ; " - IS HE THE ONE?" asked a long-legged girl by bending ; slightly, and allowing her breasts to dangle while slapping ; and jiggling them in turn. " THE ONE WHO ESCAPED FROM THE ; CATS?" Two quick squeezes to the left nipple denoted a ; question. The man watching gulped, that was the nickname for ; the people he had escaped from! If they knew of the ; Black-Tiger Tribe - HIS tribe, he could be in danger!
; ; The leader nodded, glaring sternly from her elegant, ; sun-tanned face, she confronted the shorter challenger, her ; green eyes flashing with menace as she thrust out her chest, ; breasts enlarging in quick, short spasms.
; ; " IT - IS! HE - IS - THE - PRIME - BREEDER! - THE - ONE - THE ; - CATS - ARE - SO - PROUD - OF!!" she pinched her own nipples ; roughly, twisting to denote a stronger exclamation. The ; peace-maker stepped forward in curiosity; this information was ; apparently new.
; ; " COULD - HE - BE - THE - ONE - THEY - CALL - TEN - INCH?" ; Snarling in frustration, the man beat the sand near him with a ; balled fist! They knew his name! They knew his name and tribe! ; There was no way they would give up! Nothing he could do would ; distract them, or convince them to pursue easier quarry! Not ; all men had names, chattel that they were. Only ; Prime-Breeders, like him, that met exacting standards for ; physical strength, endurance, and virility even had names. Yet ; for the man watching, swathed in ashen-colored robes, his name ; was also his curse.
; ; In his younger days, he had loved his tribe, though their own ; feelings towards him was similar to the way one might feel ; about a valuable water well, or rich iron-mine. He was not - ; could never be a person, he had never been allowed to listen ; to the council meetings, had never been allowed to participate ; in the ancestral rituals. He was Ten-Inch, the ; Prime-Breeder. Most virile man ever captured by the ; Black-Tiger Tribe. But it was inevitable that word of his ; escape would spread.
; ; The fabric tented over his groin, his erect member jutted ; proudly forward. Though trying to concentrate on his escape, ; his cursed virility asserted itself once more, the sight of a ; lengthy conversation in the Breast-talk language of Boob never ; failed to arouse him. When the women...any woman beheld his ; beefy rod in its erect glory, there was no doubt how he ; acquired his name; Ten-Inch, Prime-Breeder of the Black-Tiger ; Tribe.
; ; Ten-Inch did not pay much attention to the rest of the silent ; conversation, he had to plot, plan his escape. It would ; be....should be impossible. The Elders simply did not permit a ; Prime-Breeder, no matter what tribe had claimed him, to ; escape. It was unheard of, such a loss could never be ; tolerated. Warriors from the mountains, foot-hills, low-lands, ; from everywhere in the Northern Wastes would unleash their ; most cunning hunters to reclaim him.
; ; But of what value was life without such challenges? He could ; never be fully content as just another male ; chattel-breeder. And he had come to realize that it did not ; matter what tribe he joined. He was a resource, one worth ; killing for yes, but he would never have status as a person; ; as a warrior. Whether it was the Black-Tiger, the Rock-Snake, ; the Blue-Mountain, the Walking-Toad, the Sand-Ghosts or any of ; a number of tribes in the Northern Wastes, all he could look ; forward to would be grunting, sweaty women, breasts as vast as ; watermelons, straddling his Sacred Rod, as they unleashed ; pheromones and musks to compel him to spew forth as much sperm ; as he could possibly produce into their steamy-hot femalias.
; ; Of course, it wasn't that he didn't relish it, enjoy it ; thoroughly. It had been a right of passage; on the day when ; first his penis was deemed potent enough, he had been given ; to, and had successfully impregnated the Chieftain of the ; Black-Tiger Tribe, and then the Shaman had taken his seed, and ; she too was with child. And then the mightiest ; axe-fighter.....and then the best archer.....and then the best ; scout...... not to mention the foreign trader....and the ; ambassador from the Blue-Mountain Tribe, she too had been ; given use of him as a goodwill gesture, and she had impaled ; herself upon his throbbing tower, the slickness of her female ; juices bathing his crotch, as her body had exploded with ; orgasm. And her belly, like all the others, was soon swelling ; with the life kindled by Ten-Inch's aggressive seed.
; ; Womb after womb, cunt after cunt, and he soon could not avoid ; the impression that he was.....missing ; something. There...there had to be more; There must be more ; that women and men could do with each other! There needed to ; be something more to life than being locked away in a secured ; cabin, to impregnate females without end. But what!? What else ; was there that could be done? Their pussies so easily accepted ; his male shaft! And the joy they felt was so profound! Could ; men and women be anything more than just breeding mates? That ; was all the women wanted from him. As for companionship, ; labor, religion, and warfare, the women used each other. A ; man's purpose was to provide seed; and to spurt it forth ; whenever the Chieftain commanded. They kept him in comfort, ; certainly. It was a mark of power for a tribe if their males ; were well cared for.
; ; But...for years Ten-Inch had been restless! He did not accept ; his lot only as Breeder! He had arms and legs, a strong back, ; he could build, and work with his hands....and he had a mind! ; A quick mind with thoughts all his own! There must be a ; reason; a purpose. And then, he heard the stories.....
; ; There were a few times during the year, when the tribes met ; for extended trade, that males were permitted to fellowship ; with each other, being left alone to speak about such things ; that might interest them. Always, Ten-Inch had found the ; aspirations of his fellow men to be banal and limited. Their ; primary concerns were which tribe kept their males in the most ; luxury. (Often it was the very small tribes that went to ; greater effort to please their men, that word might spread and ; make it easier to acquire more.) Others would boast of the ; number of females they were able to pleasure towards orgasm in ; a single night. But it was the tales in between these tales ; that concerned Ten-Inch. There were men who ran. Men who; for ; a variety of reasons sought to escape whatever tribe owned ; them. Most merely heard tales of greater luxury just around ; the corner, and sought to escape to tribes that could keep ; them in greater comfort. Others sought to see some grand ; sight, or visit some splendid locale just once before they ; died. Some were merely mad; running off into the desert to ; die. But then, there were those that whispered of the Verdant ; Lands.
; ; The Verdant Lands; far to the South, and far from anything men ; of the Northern Wastes had ever known. It is said that the ; Verdant Lands are choked with vegetation of all types, water ; in abundance; and freedom! Sweet Freedom! It is whispered that ; in these green lands, men may live as they please, they may ; work, and learn, and create by their own will, doing whatever ; they wish, and never breeding unless they wish to. Ten-Inch ; shuddered with longing; Imagine! To live free! Allowing his ; hand and mind to create whatever he was able, free from ; control, imprisonment, and force! Freedom in whom he ; impregnated! To choose his breeding mates! It was said that ; the women of the Northern Wastes feared the Verdant Lands, for ; there were predators there that were deadly to women, but ; ignored men, and the fiercest desert man-hunters feared to ; tread there. But in spite of everything, his lusts were far ; too strong for him to stop craving the sex, but....if there ; could be a choice? A man in these lands could couple only with ; females he chose! It would be possible to reject some of them! ; And so Ten-Inch would not, could not rest. Not until he found ; such a place; not until he saw these lands with his own dark ; eyes.
; ; Every time men of the tribes were permitted to gather, and ; talk, Ten-Inch would hear stories of these Verdant Countries, ; where men could live and create as they chose. But always he ; was warned away;
; ; "Nay, lad; the Verdant Lands are too far!!" he might be ; told....
; ; "Journey's impossible from here....the deserts are too harsh!" ; He had heard.....
; ; "....You'd have ta pass through the territories of the most ; man-hungry tribes in the Wastes! No way you'd slip by 'em!" ; That was the warning that he had heard most often. And yet, ; every time he was told that the Feat was impossible, that the ; Journey was too difficult; the older men could always impart ; some bits of travel lore; there was always some trick or ; tactic they could teach that would help him in evasion and ; concealment.
; ; And that was the reason for his current dress; the layers of ; rags and shawls were caked with the dusty ashes from the ; burning of Sagebrush tumbleweed. If covered in enough ashes, ; that would assist him in countering the most common weapon ; used by women of the Northern Wastes.....
; ; The shorter, angrier girl with the lightning bolts on her face ; sniffed the air, then opened wide her ruby lips, and a long, ; black, forked tongue escaped to taste the air with tentative ; flicks. She frowned and shook her head. The leader, her auburn ; hair whipping in the desert breeze tweaked her nipples as she ; expanded her breasts to spill out over the lower edge of her ; open halter top.
; ; " BE- WARY " she signaled with breast-talk. " MEN - WHO - RUN ; - KNOW - TO - MASK - THEIR - SCENT - WITH - ASHES; - WE - MAY ; - NOT - SCENT - HIM - UNTIL - HE - IS - IN - LINE - OF - ; SIGHT." She explained slowly, her breasts wobbling and ; careening as she slowly spelled out the complex ; sentence. Ten-Inch knew it to be true; these females could ; track a man by the scent of his sweat at two miles at ; least. But the ashes he was covered with neutralized his smell ; in a way that confounded the refined senses of the sexual ; predators hunting him. The shorter challenger was growing less ; patient with her leader. Pouting, she brushed a hand over her ; nipples, then squeezed each bulging teat in a slow-fast-slow ; rhythm, to signal:
; ; " NOW - WHAT? I'LL - NOT - FAIL - BECAUSE- OF - YOU! I'LL - ; NOT - BE - DECLARED - A - NUN!" But the leader of the hunting ; party, though only Eighteen Summers in age, was clever enough ; to know that when one is chasing a male, the tactics they used ; to hide their man-scent could also be their undoing. Her own ; lips parted, and her black, forked tongue flickered, tasting ; and testing the air for many tense seconds. Nodding, she ; removed her loincloth, and directed the others to do the same. ; The Rock-Snake huntresses nodded; and Ten-Inch ; understood. They were using their primary Lure, the most ; common sexual weapon amongst the tribes of the Northern ; Wastes. A musky chemical signal, a pheromone lure that burned ; in a man's brain, dulled his mind, and boiled his blood with a ; primal passion as ancient as the Sun, and irresistable as ; Sunrise. Though unsure of his location, (his scent masked to ; them) there was enough of a trace of ash in the air to arouse ; the libido, and suspicions of the leader. So she began to ; release her musk. And the wind favored them! Their musk would ; be carried directly to Ten-Inch! Now was the time to run, to ; risk being spotted, he decided. He did not need to see them, ; to know what they would do; He knew that the females would ; bare themselves, naked. He knew they would raise their ; shapely, muscled rumps to the air in lurid invitation. All it ; would take is a quick rub, a swift pinch of their clits, and ; they would begin their Rut. Soon, an observer would see their ; naked asses bobbing and throbbing in the air; pussies ; quivering as they unleashed their Scent. Ordinarily; he would ; not be able to run fast enough; the beastial grasp of the ; refined mating musk would consume his senses, firing his male ; body into a fever pitch of obsessive lust. His libido would ; overshadow all else, and he would give himself to them. Or so ; they planned. Ten-Inch knew better than to deceive himself; ; some men liked to boast that they stayed with their tribes ; because they were happy; and that they could leave whenever ; they wished, some claimed that they could resist the ; Lure. Lies. Ten-Inch knew better than to trust his own ; willpower. If a man, any man was exposed to the right amount ; of mating musk, the frenzy it would kindle inside him would ; grow so strong that his body would not allow his mind to ; resist the Rut. That is what it was designed to do; to enslave ; a man with his own libido; and if exposed it would take many ; hours and more orgasms before he could even remember why he ; should resist.
; ; That was why he'd come prepared. Sulphur was the key; it was ; used in small amounts by the women of the Black-Tiger Tribe in ; certain religious rituals to the Mother Goddess, but from his ; contacts, Ten-Inch had learned that the yellow powder produced ; so potent a stench that it would shield him from most all ; Luring musks from any vagina in the Northern Wastes; so he was ; told. Still, better not to take chances, so he ran.
; ; The horrid stench, not unlike rotting eggs, did help, as he ; pressed the rag to his nose. Even still, the effect was not ; complete. He felt a tingle down his spine, and a heat in his ; groin, even as his feet pounded the desert sands to propel him ; down the plateau, away from them. He nearly stumbled, his ; penis throbbing to life as waves of comforting bliss washed ; over him....it would be so easy to just... give ; in....surrender....give up this foolish journey....and let the ; girls have their glory....their pussies....so ; warm.....wet...soft...NO!!! So long as was alive he would not ; give up this Journey! He would find freedom in the Verdant ; Lands! The freedom to think, create, and the power of choice! ; The power to chose were his seed was sown! No longer would he ; be tied down, forced to ejaculate for every moist cunt in the ; Tribe! He would give his seed only when he wished it! And only ; to those females he chose!
; ; Even with his sulphur to block most of the effect; the potency ; of their musk still seized at him, clawed at his mind and ; body. His penis, so tight...so hard that it interfered with ; his running; but still he pressed on. How much harder would it ; be with nothing to block their Lure! But... he was getting ; away....the young huntresses were not chasing, not certain of ; his location but suspecting his presence. And the searing ; bursts of sharp yearning that coursed down his spine were ; diminishing. He had been fortunate this time. But in truth, ; Ten-Inch thought he was very fortunate.
; ; He knew truths, wondrous facts that few were privy to. The ; lands of the Black-Tiger had been on the grounds of an ancient ; center of learning and knowledge a....Lie-Berry; he believed ; it was called. Little had survived from that time long ago, ; that Ancient Age of wonder, and power, and glory. But the ; warriors that guarded Ten-Inch deemed it harmless enough to ; permit the male to putter around inside the ruins. Slowly, ; achingly, over years... he had taught himself to read...to ; himself the letters, words of the Ancient Tongue. Few books ; had survived; but he had learned oh so much. The women had ; little interest in such things; paying no heed to his talk of ; fabulous knowledge and impossible fantasies. In his younger ; days, Ten-Inch would read, and learn, and keep reading until ; the warriors guarding him were unable to contain their urges, ; until one of them tackled him amidst the old books, twining ; herself around him in raw lust.
; ; He remembered the day he'd managed to hide out and read for ; five whole hours before his guards found and ravished ; him. He'd seen images; reflected pictures somehow recorded on ; paper that showed the lives of the Ancients. What puzzled him ; the most was the way men in that time were permitted to wear ; clothing, and were almost never restrained. It seemed to him ; as though women and men could pass each other going about ; their business, and the woman would not be driven to capture ; and ravish the man. It was unthinkable; but then....it was a ; different world.
; ; He'd learned much; he'd read about science; and chemistry, and ; genetics....he had studied the old writings about ; genes....cells....heredity, biology. And moreover, he'd ; learned something about what changed; what had destroyed all ; that. The Ancients had triggered a great war; a war far ; vaster, far deadlier than the petty tribal squabbles of ; today. Biological weapons of awesome power had been unleashed, ; as his ancestors fought against terrible demons from beyond ; the Sea. After suffering these assaults, the Ancients tried to ; repair the damage done by fabulous medicines they ; possessed. But they made mistakes; underestimated the ; complexities of life, and the extent of the damage done. Their ; gene-ravaging weapons were both more unstable than they had ; feared, and the ability of life-forms to adapt had been ; greater than they had imagined; and their mighty civilization ; had dissolved into chaos.
; ; Apparently, a devastating virus had mutated and proliferated; ; this pathogen seemed to totally destroy the Y-chromosome on ; Earth. Or...almost all of it. From medical reports and ; scientific papers published before the collapse of society, ; Ten-Inch had learned that 99% of all male life-forms on Earth ; had perished or become sterile. The reports were so old that ; he was uncertain, but the Ancients had described the effects ; of this pathogen, this VY-rus, as they named it. It seemed ; that traces of the VY-rus genes would linger for generations, ; destroying new Y-chromosomes during conception. That seemed to ; be....must be the reason why the birth of male children was so ; rare these days. It seemed that their was only one boy born ; for every 100 girls. It must have been very different in the ; Ancient Age.
; ; And so he dreamed of recovering what was lost; perhaps if he ; had the freedom to learn, work, and create on his own, he ; might find a way to restore some of the wondrous knowledge of ; the past! He knew that the Ancients possessed something ; called.....Dollars... and with these "Dollars" they were able ; to conjure up food, clothing, and weapons as if by magic. With ; the power of Dollars, it was possible to travel a thousand ; miles in a day, and to watch people from distant lands as if ; they were in front of you. Nothing like that was left in the ; Northern Wastes; but would it be possible to find, or recover ; this ancient power?
; ; Not if he was a Breeding-Slave for the Rock-Snake Tribe, or ; the Black-Tiger Tribe, or the Star-Fire Tribe..... The ; Star-Fire Tribe! They were still close, still searching! He ; saw tell-tail signs of their encampment. They had tried to ; cover their tracks, but Ten-Inch recognized a regularity in ; the sand before him, and he had heard from the Black-Tiger ; warriors of how these people tried to hunt for their men.
; ; Now, there were two Hym'enaria parties in hot pursuit of the ; fugitive breeder. A prize such as him, if captured alive would ; make any of them champions of their people! For the young ; huntresses, he was worth killing and dying over. And perhaps ; that's just what he should let them do....
; ; He had a plan, a desperate gambit that just might save him, ; just might buy him one more day of freedom. Perhaps one ; hunting party he could elude, but two? Could he outwit and ; evade two bands of man-hungry minxes that would kill for his ; cock? He didn't like those odds; and Ten-Inch preferred to ; avoid risk unless he could tip the balance in his ; favor. Thinking quickly, he made his decision; still sprinting ; fast across the desert, he unwrapped part of his ashen ; coverings, and removed a shawl he kept close to his ; body. Quickly, he tore the grey fabric in two and discarded ; one of the strips as he ran.
; ; Here, yes...Ten-Inch had arrived at a deep ravine carved by ; centuries of desert wind, which winded sinuously for miles in ; either direction. He knew the Star-Fire Tribe Hym'enaria had ; come this way, searching for him he was sure. Well, time to ; give the people what they want. With swift, sure motions he ; began unwrapping his coverings.
; ; **********
; ; He was nearly naked. All according to his plan. His head ; scarves were removed, revealing his smooth-shaven head, dark ; skin the color of polished mahogany, and firm-set jaw below ; the piercing gaze of his brooding eyes. Also uncovered was the ; magnificent organ that in the Northern Wastes, was worth so ; much strife and conflict. The great phallus was not yet fully ; erect, yet enough of his size and girth was still apparent to ; justify his proclaimed status as Prime Breeder.
; ; Now that his penis was exposed, it would not be long now; he ; would either outwit the female hunting parties; or be captured ; and relegated to everlasting sexual slavery. He wished he had ; someone else to turn to for tactics, but there were no other ; men anywhere nearby, nor did Ten-Inch ever have a friend of ; any sort with which to share his thoughts. He wondered, while ; waiting for the hot winds to carry the scent of his exposed ; penis, how men of the Ancient Age would have solved this ; dilemma? Were men oppressed in like manner in that distant ; time?
; ; Physically, he knew he was like them. If Ten-Inch wore clothes ; as they did, he would appear much the same as many of the men ; in that lost eon. He'd seen in the reflected images many like ; himself, and knew that he was a rare genetic bastion of that ; primordial, nearly-extinct humanity. Males of the Northern ; Wastes did not carry the same sort of extreme genetic ; mutations so common amongst the females, his studies of the ; ancient science of biology gave him reason to believe that the ; Y-chromosome blocked many of the radical alterations that made ; the Tribes what they were today. So much of life, all life was ; transformed, it seemed that the distant time of the Ancients ; was irretrievably lost to-
; ; "YEAAAH!" he yelped, feeling a sharp prick in his leg. Looking ; down, he saw a row of fine needles, spines of some sort, ; embedded in his flesh. Dark eyes darted, and he saw the ; culprit. The plant had the broad, plump sections of a small, ; desert cactus of the type that had existed for eons ; untold. Yet the sections of this plant were throbbing, ; pulsating, an occasionally spewing forth spines with lightning ; speed.
; ; "By the Black Sands! How could I have missed it!? I...I..." ; Ten-Inch felt woozy for a moment, blinked his eyes, and ; started chuckling. It was a Pleasure Cactus. The spines that ; had shot into him did not inflict the pain that might be ; expected; rather they produced a potent enzyme that carried ; the exact opposite effect. Being pierced with the needles ; actually produced a calming, soothing, erotic sensation. If ; unprepared, it could make a man laugh out loud as the euphoria ; rushed through his veins.
; ; "Pleasure Cactus....oooh....It has....sensitive chemical ; receptors....must have detected my testosterone...." Ten-Inch ; knew that there were no semen-feeder species in ancient times; ; another relic of the VY-rus and the resulting cascade of ; radical mutations. The hallucinogens hit then. The renegade ; sperm-donor stumbled, rubbing his eyes as he covered up his ; precious member. A pang of seething lust slammed into him, ; clouding his mind, his awareness. The landscape blurred. It no ; longer seemed like a craggy, rock-strewn desert loaded with ; boulders and sand-dunes, but in his chemically-altered ; perception, the world seemed like a fleeting, pink haze of ; erotic imagery. Sand dunes became collossal, tawny-colored ; breasts, capped off by sandy aureoles, beckoning to him. The ; ravines and crevasses that festooned the wind-scarred terrain ; instead became moist vaginas large enough to engulf his entire ; body, throbbing as if to beckon him with erotic ; promise. Stumbling, his foot hit a smooth rock, yet with the ; exotic compounds that were pickling his brain, he saw instead ; a gigantic clitoris, above the warmest, most inviting cunt he ; could imagine. The surges of stimulation rocketed to his ; groin, and his cock was erect in less time than it took to ; speak of it. The burning heat of pent-up passion increased as ; he stumbled closer to the Pleasure Cactus, yet Ten-Inch vowed ; he would not give in. The plant needed him to masturbate; to ; relieve his male organ any way he could, for should he spill ; his seed anywhere within about five square feet of the plant, ; its elaborate root-system would be able to extract the ; nutrients and genetic material so crucial to the new, ; semen-feeding life forms of the Northern Wastes. But Ten-Inch ; knew better; there were stories of men who had stumbled into ; entire patches of the salacious vegetables and died from the ; repeated orgasms that were possible under its chemical ; influence. So the Pleasure Cacti waited; delicate senses tuned ; to the proximity of testosterone, erotic weapons unleashed if ; any male organism passed close enough. And this was but one of ; many such creatures. Gripping his penis tightly, he forced ; himself to walk with steady, deliberate steps in the other ; direction. More spines struck, but his shawls blocked them. In ; small numbers, these cacti were rarely a threat, but the main ; danger of semen-feeders was that, if they succeeded, he would ; release his sperm into the open air, and if that happened, ; every hunter for miles around would be alerted. No trick, no ; deceit could cover up the scent of fresh semen. Should he ; ejaculate out here, the only question would be what sort of ; monster would capture him first; would it be the intelligent, ; female hunters from the Tribes, or some savage, semen-feeding ; predator craving his chromosomes? Ten-Inch wouldn't wait to ; find out. The Sulphur helped somewhat; there were components ; in the Pleasure-Cactus hallucinogens similar to the pheromones ; exuded by the women of the Tribes, and by shoving the noxious ; powder into his face, he was able to find the strength to ; force his legs to walk away from the indecent vegetation. ; Carefully, deliberately, he picked his steps as he navigated ; the dry gulches, and rocky ravines criss-crossing the deserts, ; and he suspected that his ruse would work. His exposed penis, ; while less compelling than the scent of fresh semen, would ; still alert the refined senses of many predators. Taking the ; other half of the scarf he had torn, he laid it upon a smooth, ; flat boulder of shale. That should be enough, but ; then...moments later....the Wave hit him....the ringing in his ; ears.....the throbbing in his groin...
; ; "*GGRRRN*... The...The Star-Fire Tribe....their....psionic ; powers! Can't give in...." That was another adaptation that ; apparently had caught the scientists of the Ancients by ; surprise. As unprecedented biological weapons confounded the ; chromosomes of every living thing, there had been incredible ; changes in neurobiology; or so the scientific papers had ; reported that Ten-Inch had once read. Among these changes was ; the power to reach out with the mind; to project brainwaves ; into energy, or effect the brainwaves of others. He felt the ; effects now; as remote, evolved intellects battered away at ; his mind and body with exotic energies. Clutching his skull, ; the runaway breeder reflected on what he knew about the ; Star-Fire Tribe: Their psionic powers only functioned during ; the throes of orgasm.....
; ; **********
; ; S'syndy stopped short. She felt a twinge, a tingle in the back ; of her mind. She had just donned her halter top again, while ; shifting uncomfortably as her aroused vagina continued to ; release her feminine juices.
; ; **********
; ; For the moment, it would serve. Myshel threw herself into the ; task; threw herself into the moist, throbbing cunt of Elyse, ; her sister-in-arms. She eagerly nuzzled the groin of the other ; woman; years of practice put to good use as the young warriors ; drove each other towards the precipice of pleasure. Amongst ; the hunters of the Star-Fire Tribe, the ancient art of ; cunnilingus was a much-needed skill. For it was only in ; ecstasy, only in orgasm that their telepathic abilities ; activated. And certainly, the girls put on a good show. The ; sandy pit wherein they camped was a tangled mass of sleek, ; muscled legs, reddish-yellow hair, breasts bigger than each ; girls' own head, and sweat-slicked purple skin. Raising her ; head from her tangy, slippery task for a moment, Myshel ; straddled Elyse while arching her back, deciding to grow out ; her breasts....just a bit more. The Elders never let them ; forget how important breasts were in the Hunt. It was a ; tenuous balance; smaller breasts resulted in greater ease when ; running, shooting, or fighting. Yet it was larger, full mams ; that lured the males. Myshel utilized the natural powers of ; her mutant physiology; the gifts from the Mother Goddess as ; her people described it. Her bright, violet-colored skin ; gleaming in the sun, she shook her chest amidst throaty ; grunts. Her murmurs were in part from the sensual bliss of ; shifting mass inside herself, expanding her sexual ; characteristics, yet mainly from the expert pussy-licking she ; received from Elyse, as her Tribe-Sister thrust deep into ; Myshel's moist depths with a curled tongue. In seconds, her ; boobs were no larger than would be necessary to contain her ; own head inside them. Concentrating, her ample cleavage ; shimmered and shimmied, flesh rippling as bosoms achieved ; greater size, yet remained buoyant. Even should their exotic ; sexual weapons fail, often times merely the site of bosomy, ; sweaty, naked women writhing in orgasm was itself enough to ; draw men out of hiding. Myshel slapped the shapely, ; purple-skinned ass squirming before her, giving a swift lick ; to the labia with the edge of her tongue. It was just enough ; to stimulate without satisfying. The owner of the sex in ; question twittered appreciatively at the contact, her own lips ; fastened around the dark red aureoles encompassing a hardened ; nipple of the appointed leader of this Hym'enaria. From ; beneath Myshel, Elyse grasped a thick, white rod from a ; leather pouch and caressed in gently. This rough tool was ; shoved unceremoniously into Myshel's drooling snatch, and ; twisted with skill.
; ; "GODDDESSSS!!!!" Myshel swore, as the Sacred Rod ground into ; her slippery, purple cunt. It was a Dildolarius, a ceremonial ; sex-toy issued to all war-bands, hunting-parties, and ; Hym'enarias. Ivory wrapped in fibers from a rubber plant, it ; was designed to bring about swift orgasms from texture alone, ; yet it was also covered with a particular blend of ; mind-altering herbal mixtures that strengthened the psionic ; powers of the recipient.
; ; Perhaps it was the euphoria triggered by the Dildolarius in ; her sex, but Myshel felt more confident and optimistic than at ; any time during this quest. They had managed to track the ; cunning, runaway male for days, and were closing in. It was ; true; this was the Prime Breeder! Said to be a potent, ; powerful male who engineered his own escape from the ; Black-Tiger Tribe, and evaded all their patrols. Myshel ; gurgled with delight at the thought of his capture. A man that ; strong and clever; imagine what strength he could give to her ; daughters! No doubt, his seed would be shooting into her womb ; before this week was past! Too often her people had grumbled ; with dismay upon visiting the Black-Tigers; so happy and smug, ; almost every belly bulging with child! His children, sired ; from the seed of the one called Ten-Inch! No male the ; Star-Fire's had ever captured had spawned even half so many ; young! A man of this value could not, must not be lost; ; whatever plot he was brewing in his inscrutable male mind must ; not succeed. His penis, his seed, was the envy of the Northern ; Tribes! He must not be allowed to escape....
; ; **********
; ; It was his first. The Shaman had been so proud, she had ; screamed, and jumped, and leaped with joy and pride. The ; short, dark-haired female had hurried him out to show to the ; Chieftain. Like all females of the Black-Tiger Tribe, she ; possessed mutations which gave a vaguely cat-like ; appearance. Eons of genetic trickery from synthetic ; virus-weapons unleashed by the Ancients had spliced, sliced, ; and reshuffled almost every lifeform on Earth. The Shaman ; specifically, had a paper-thin, downy layer of yellow and ; black spotted fur covering her voluptuous frame save only for ; face, bosom, and extremities.
; ; He was ready, he was strong. Their sowing had borne fruit; it ; was the day of his first erection. They had been watching him ; for months now, the boy hadn't known what to do, or expect, ; but now he understood. There would be a ceremony; the grand ; festival. The Tribe would prepare the Phallurrala - when a ; boy becomes a man.
; ; It seemed too easy. He had expected to...do something....prove ; something to show that he was ready to be called a man. But amidst the ; sex-starved females of the Black-Tiger Tribe, all that was necessary ; was an erect penis.
; ; Soon, flower petals were strewn around the huts, cymbals and ; tambourine made a happy racket, and the women joined in joyful ; song! According to the traditional prescripts, all clothing ; was forbidden him from now on, and all that he wore was the ; ceremonial red paint slathered upon his member, to denote his ; emerged fertility. The paint of course, was drugged. And it ; was the first of many such concoctions.
; ; Those days were a blur; the herbal potions fired his young ; body and hot blood, forcing him to churn out more sperm than ; humanly possible; even for the most blue-balled adolescent ; male. The potions....they kept him erect for hours...hours at ; a time. It was the chieftain first, followed by the ; Shaman. Then, he was used by the Tribe's mightiest ; axe-fighter; he remembered her muscled thighs and ; tiger-striped fur thinly covering her skin as she ravished ; him. His penis her reward for enemies slain.
; ; It was a blur, a panoply of wobbling breasts, spasming ; pussies, and feminine shrieks of ecstasy as the entire Tribe ; used him, grateful for their breeder that had come to blossom ; before them. Amidst the cries, the orgasms, the impossible ; heights of ecstasy was a phrase...two words...over and over...
; ; "Ten!"
; ; "Ten-Inches!"
; ; "Ten-Inch!"
; ; "Ten-Inch!"
; ; "Ten-Inch!"
; ; "Ten-Inch!"
; ; He shook his head, snapping his mind from the reverie. That ; was their power, the effect of this particular onslaught. The ; telepathic powers of the Star-Fire Tribe bombarded the victim ; with erotic thoughts and memories so real as to block out the ; normal senses. Making the victim easy prey. But he had to keep ; running! Always running! He had a plan, don't forget to run, ; no matter what they make him see or remember, keep running!
; ; *********
; ; Myshel felt victory was imminent. Their leader had reported ; contact; several brains had been reached by their Powers, one ; of them....Male, MALE, MALE!! A male brain had been struck by ; their psychic attack! Their leader, Natelly sprang into ; action; she rose from the sea of naked, purple-skinned female ; flesh and ordered the scouts to fan out; even as the lesbian ; orgy continued, two cunning warriors equipped with nets and ; bolas would search for this male that their powers had sensed.
; ; All was falling into place; the Goddess had blessed their ; Hym'enaria and Myshel's earlier trepidations were gone. She ; had resented, raged against the tribal elders for making her ; wait until her eighteenth Summer before she was allowed to ; chase and hunt a man to ravish. But by waiting, by beginning ; her man-hunt now, she and her tribe-sisters would have a ; chance to capture a Prime Breeder. Truly, it was serendipity! ; Her breasts expanded to a size just past her own elbows in ; length, and just above her navel on the lower slope as she ; embraced her purple-skinned comrades to produce more orgies, ; and more intense psychic attacks!
; ; Will Ten-Inch escape the Rock-Snake Tribe? Can he elude them and the ; Star-Fire Tribe? How did he escape from his previous mistresses? Can ; he ever hope to reach the Verdant Lands? or is Ten-Inch doomed to a ; life of sexual slavery? This perverted little tale can only be ; continued if I receive reader feedback!!!
;
;
xxxecil@hotmail.com
;
;