Message-ID: <12191eli$9806151506@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/12191.txt> From: john_dark@anon.nymserver.com Subject: {Bombadil}JDR"Amazonia 2b"( MF+ Mf+ FF fant )[4/4] Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Original-Message-ID: <6m2du5$19k$1@sparky.wolfe.net> JOHN DARK REPOST The following story is posted for the entertainment of adults. If you are below the age of eighteen or are otherwise forbidden to read electronic erotic fiction in your locality, please delete this message now. The story codes in the subject line are intended to inform readers of possible areas that some might find distasteful, but neither the poster nor the author make any guarantee. You should be aware that the story might raise other matters that you find distasteful. You read at your own risk. The enjoyment of these reposts can be increased by reading the "Coming Attractions," which includes the titles to be reposted in the next week. These stories have not been written by the person posting them. Many of those e-mail addresses below the author's byline still work. If you liked the story, either drop the author a line at that e-mail address or post a comment to alt.sex.stories.d. Please don't post it to alt.sex.stories itself. Posting the comment with a Cc: to the author would be the best way to encourage them to continue entertaining you. The copyright of this story belongs to the author, and the fact of this posting should not be construed as limiting or releasing these rights in any way. In most cases, the author will have further notices of copyright below. If you keep the story, *PLEASE* keep the copyright disclaimer as well. ===================== Story #5 by Tom Bombadil (c) Apr 1997 Disclaimer: All the standard rules apply. If you are offended by explicit descriptions of sex or the human body, if it is illegal to possess such materials at your location, if you are under-age by law in your location, or if somebody else thinks you might have too much fun reading it, stop right now and remove this text from your computer. This is purely a work of fiction, with all characters and actions described by me coming straight out of my imagination. As a work of fiction, it does not condone or condemn any of the activities or actions described, nor does it relate to any type of real events in my life, or known to me in the lives of any of my friends or relatives. You've been warned. I give permission for anyone to archive or share this story. ******************************************************************** ===================== Amazonia by Tom Bombadil via stbush@iglou.com Section 2b Two days later, they arrived at another village. He had serviced three more women and one more teenager en route, but he was no longer enjoying himself doing so. The physical sensations were there, and he did perform to their expectations, but mentally, it was now a chore, not a pleasure. They either didn't notice the difference or didn't care. The new village was nearly identical to the one they had come from. A welcoming committee of half-naked women and teenagers and totally naked girls greeted them. Again, no men were around. An hour later, all the excitement over and done with, he was led to another shaded mat in the centre of the village and was again expected to sit there on display. Why they bothered moving him, he couldn't even begin to imagine. That's when it happened. "Halloo! Do you speak English?" Tom's head snapped around so fast, he almost got whiplash. Approaching was a white woman with a deep brown tan and blonde hair, about six foot two, stout, with very little figure, smallish breasts, and wearing the traditional grass skirt. He thought she was quite ugly, but didn't care in the least. There was a huge smile on his face as he stood up. "Mhhh! <cough cough>" His voice was a little rusty from lack of use. "My God! Am I glad to see you!" "Hiya mate. I heard there was a new bloke on the island. Couldn't wait to meet you!" "Yes. Well, I crashed here a few weeks ago, and since then, you wouldn't believe what's happened to me! What is this weird place? And these women? More importantly, do you have a radio? Is there any way off this island? And ..." "Hold on there, mate. I ken you got a sackful of questions and I'll fill you in with what I can. Just slow down a bit. Grab a piece of mat and have a breather." Tom sat down before his knees buckled. Relief washed through him like a wave, leaving him giddy and lightheaded. "I suppose introductions are in order. I recken you must be Tom. You're a Yank, right?" He nodded. "Right. Well, the Sheilas been talkin' about nothin' but you ever since you washed up in that blowup a few weeks back. My name's Sam." Sam stuck out a hand, and Tom shook it rather unsteadily. "You're an Australian?" "Right first try. Queensland. Been stuck on this God-forsaken patch of hell for twelve years now. Yep. There ain't ... Everything seemed to go silent and still as Tom's spirits came crashing down. It was with a sense of desperation that he interrupted Sam. "Sam. Please. Tell me that you have a radio. Or a telephone. A plane, a boat, something! Please!" There was a sense of finality to the way Sam shook his head in the negative. A long groan came from Tom as he fell back onto the mat. "You mean there's no way off this fucking island?" Once again, Sam said no. "You're sure?" "Mate, if there was a way off, I'd a been back home enjoyin' a Foster's long since. The ladies tell me you came in by plane. What's your story?" Tom shook his head, unsure about what to do or say. "Yeah. I ran out of gas running in front of the hurricane and didn't quite make it to the beach. I survived. Nothing else did, not even the radio." "Now that is a cryin' shame, though I kinda figured it got broke, the way you was carryin' on. I guess you're just as stuck as me then. Sorry if I got your hopes up, mate, but there's not much I can do, I'm afraid." "Sorry. It's just that you're the first civilized person I've seen since I crashed. I just assumed you'd have some way off this rock. I thought ..." "'S'all right, mate. I been through it all m'self. This place gets to a body after a while. Kinda makes one strange, if you aren't careful." Sam looked around the village for a few seconds. "Almost got to me too, sorta like ... " There was a pause, as Sam appeared to lose himself in thought. "Well, you're here now," he finally continued. "So ask away." Tom put voice to the question that was uppermost in his mind. "Where are all the men?" Sam laughed. Long, hard, and almost maniacally. "S'truth! You sure came out with the worst one first. Tom, there ain't no men here, 'cept you and me, and I don't count no more." Tom stared, disbelief very apparent in his eyes. Sam gazed down at his own body for a few seconds before looking Tom in the eye. "Mate, when I got stuck in this place, twelve bloody long years ago, I was as much a man as you are now. This place changes a body. It ain't natural. My mate, Jack, when he saw what was happenin', well, it got to him. One mornin', he just climbed up one of them coconut trees an' tried to fly home." "But - but - what, how? I mean, look at you! You're a woman! What gives?" With a shrug, Sam answered. "Don't really know. Maybe there's something in the water, or in the food. Maybe there's some weird bug here. Whatever it is, that's why there ain't no blokes." "How long..." Tom cleared his throat, gulped, then tried again. "How long did it take?" "Well, these," he hefted his breasts, "showed up after two years. The ladies cut off the rest soon after." "They WHAT?!" "It didn't work no more anyway. If I'd fought too much, they would'a killed me instead." "You mean, they just - just ... " Tom struggled for words. "And you let them!?" He shrugged. "Hey, I'm still here, and I guess I got a reason to hang around a bit longer." "What?" "I got a stake in this place now, just like you will soon enough." "No fuckin' way! What the hell could I possibly think important in this bloody place?" "You mean you ain't figured it out yet? Yanks. I tell ya, if you had to depend on your brains, you'd all be goners for sure. Look, you been treated the same as I was, right?" Tom just stared, appearing more than a little puzzled. "The women. The sex! They been keepin' you real busy, right?" He nodded. "Yeah, so?" Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Think! I got here twelve years ago. It quit workin' eleven years ago. All the kids are around ten or eleven. I figure half of 'em are mine and half are Jack's, so that's about two hundred kids each. How many you done so far?" "That's what they're doing? You mean, they want me for ... but ... all they want is a goddamn fuckin' sperm machine!?" "Hey, you're a damned sight luckier than the last couple of blokes who got stranded here. The ladies decided they weren't good enough to service 'em or something, so they were eliminated." "They were killed? But that's barbaric! Why didn't you stop them?" He shrugged. "Nothin' I could do about it. They tolerate me 'cause I don't cause no problems an' I pull my own weight. If I threw in with some strange blokes, they'd do me too." "Shit, what kind of hell is this? Waitaminit, all the kids I've seen are girls. What happened to the boys?" "Far as I can tell, there ain't none born here. At least, I never saw none. Every one I saw born was a girl, and I saw plenty of 'em." "Jesus H. Fuckin' Keerist. No guys. None. Just women. All right, how many? How bloody many women do they expect me to service?" Sam shrugged again. "Four, five hundred. I think that's how many are about. Five villages, anyway. The bosses all get first crack at you. Well, that's what Rhoda said when she told me you were on your way." "Rhoda?" "The headwoman in these parts. You'll meet her soon enough." "Four or five hundred?" Tom spoke quietly, almost whispering. "What the hell did I do to deserve this anyway?" "Pardon?" "Huh? Sorry, I guess I was talking to myself." "No problem, mate. You got a lot to think on. Oh-oh. Here they come." Tom looked over his shoulder, expecting to see his keepers and whomever approaching. Instead, a small gaggle of giggling girls came running up. Sam smiled broadly. "Sorry mate, but I promised these young sheilas I'd help em' with some shellfish harvestin'. I'll be back after you have your tucker." With one kid on his shoulders and two more tugging on his arms, he walked off towards the beach, smiling and joining into the animated chatter he was surrounded with. Tom watched them go. Lunch showed up about an hour later, giving him plenty of time to absorb and reflect on what Sam had told him. The food was a little different than he was used to, since it included seaweed and some sort of shellfish instead of dried fish. The change was welcome. Two women, both decent looking dark haired native ladies he didn't recognize, brought it to him and stayed to help him eat. Both fussed over him throughout the meal. It wasn't too long after he finished that Sam returned, coming back with the same batch of children he left with. They all ran off carrying baskets full of something, while Sam himself stopped in at one of the large buildings and picked up his lunch before sitting down with Tom again. "Whew! Them kids can really tire a body out. So where were we?" "Are those all your kids?" asked Tom. Sam shrugged. "Two are for sure. The rest, who knows. I treat 'em all like mine. Jack was my mate, and they're all his or mine, so now they're all mine. Their mothers know whose is whose, but I don't ask." "Was Jack a blonde too?" "Nah. He was a redhead. His Mum was a blonde, though." They were interrupted again, this time by a grey-haired native looking woman. Tom thought she had to be at least sixty years old. She and Sam talked back and forth for several minutes. "Tom, this here is Mama-san, their leader. Her title don't translate too good, so that's what I call her. I've never heard anyone say her real name. She wants to know if everyone's been treating you right so far." "What? You mean other than being treated as nothing but a portable sperm bank? Other than being held prisoner? Other than being forced to perform three times a day, like it or not? Oh sure, I've been treated just fine! Faugh!" Tom turned and stared at the ocean while Sam translated his words. Their conversation took some time. "Sorry for the delay, mate, but I still ain't all that great with the lingo. I told her what you said, word for word - well, as close as possible - and she gave me an answer. Here it is, word for word. 'You are unsettled. This is not your place, not what you know, not what you understand. Yet <something I don't ken> answered our prayers and delivered you to us. It has been too many seasons since our last <don't know this one mate, something to do with having kids>. Our need is great, so we are more <something or other> to you than the others. <I think she's referring to the last couple of blokes, the ones that didn't measure up or something.> If you refuse our need, we will not force you any longer. But no longer will you be a <sheltered guest, I think>.' She's giving you a choice. They won't kill you if you don't perform, but they won't feed you no more neither. Me, I hope you do the right thing, 'cause they need a new load of sprogs here." "So if I put out, I'm their guest, at least until I peter out, as it were, and then they'll cut it off and make me an honourary woman. If I don't, then what? What happens?" "Most likely they'll drive you out of the village. Take your choice - jungle or beach. It don't matter. If you ain't trained in jungle livin' you won't last two weeks. Starve to death. Or worse, maybe eat something wrong and die of gut rot. I seen it happen. Bad way to go - really bad." "How much time do I have to make up my mind?" "Until dinner, most likely. When Mama-san wants an answer, nobody keeps her waiting." "Why the hell do they do this? And why the hell are they doing it to me?" "Tom, this ain't no paradise. These ladies are tryin' to survive and keep their civilization alive. Why you're here, I don't know, but you are. The next bloke might be along in a week, or in ten years. Or longer. They need you probably more than you need them. It ain't so bad, really, once you get used to it. Me and Rhoda been makin' a pretty decent life for ourselves." "You mean, you and her? Together?" Tom waved his finger back and forth between Sam and the grey-haired woman. "Huh? Me and Mama-san? Not on your life! What gave you that daft idea?" "You said you had something going with the head woman." "Oh, I got ya. No, Rhoda - she's the one claimed me - she's the head woman of this village. Mama-san's top woman of the whole island. You'll probably see Rhoda later." "This is just too much. I need some time to think." "That's fine, mate. I got about thirty young'uns waitin' up on me right now anyhow. They're expectin' a story while they do all that shellin'. Well, I guess better a story than me shellin' them slimy things. It's Jack and the Beanstalk today, adjusted slightly for local conditions. See you in a bit." Sam got up, nodded to Mama-san, and left. The old woman sat there on the other side of the mat and stared out at the ocean for nearly an hour before standing, nodding to Tom, and leaving. He nodded back, then watched as she slowly walked away. The woman held her head high, even though her steps were slow and her back was slightly bowed. It seemed the weight of the world pressed down upon those bare shoulders. His keepers showed up with supper late in the afternoon. Sam arrived a few minutes later. "Hiya mate. I see they're keepin' close tabs on you. Not lettin' you out of their sight, are they." "I guess. Sam, how did you end up in this place?" "Oh, that's a bit of a story. It's a bit daft, really. One day Jack and me were drinkin' down at the local, and we were tryin' out some of that there imported Yank beer, only it ain't really imported you see, 'cause they make it in the brewery in town under licence from the folks what really makes it. So there's this tourist bloke, and he's tryin' some of that same rot we're drinkin', an' he says it ain't nothin' like what he gets at home. So Jack gets this idea in his head that he wants to try real Yank beer. Only, he don't want to go into the city and buy some real import stuff. Nope. He wants to travel to the U.S. of A. for some." "So you guys decided to fly from Australia to the U.S. - for a BEER?" "Made sense at the time. Only we didn't fly. You see, Jack owned this oversized canoe, so we sailed." "You SAILED to the U.S. In an oversized canoe. For a fuckin' beer. How big was that thing?" "I dunno. Fifty foot, maybe. Big enough for the three of us." "Three?" "Yeah. Me, Jack, an' that tourist bloke. He promised us one hell of a drinkup when we got to L.A." "Let me guess - you never made it. You got lost, and ended up wrecking on the reef. Right?" "Oh no, we got there all right, and we had one hell of a good time. One of the best weeks of my life. That yank beer was definitely better'n the fake stuff we got. It still ain't as good as Foster's of course, but it's a pretty fair brew. No, we got caught in a bit of a blow on the way home. Lost the compass, the sails, damaged the rudder, and almost got swamped, but we made it. I just wish Jack had remembered to pack spare batteries for the radio. We were takin' in a lot of water when we saw this place and made for shore. There weren't much choice left, so we parked just off the reef and came in on a dingy. That's when the next blowup came along. Smashed our boat up on the reef and down it went, takin' all our supplies with it. If the ladies hadn't taken us in, we'd a been goners." "And you paid their price. Any regrets?" "Oh, sure. I've got ... I guess that's had, a girl back home. We had an understandin'." "But that didn't stop you, did it? You just jumped in and enjoyed all the ladies you could." "Mate, I spent two weeks alone in the jungle before I gave it up. Ended up I couldn't see any good reason for dyin', 'cause there weren't no way back home." "What about Jack?" "Him? Jesus, talk about your kid in a sweets shop. He was the happiest bloke on the planet." "For a while." "No, he never got tired of it. Even near the end, he'd snuggle up with his favourites and spend the night doing whatever he could. It wasn't what quit workin' what got to him, it was growin' his own pair." Sam arched his back for a second, making his breasts stick out on display, then relaxed and smiled rather wryly. "You know, life does play funny tricks on a soul. I go out on a bit of a walkabout and end up here. Now I'm talkin to probably one of the few other blokes in the world that don't think this is paradise. Go figure." "I guess no matter what I decide, what happened to you, likely as not, is gonna happen to me." "'Fraid so, mate. Mama-san says it's 'cause the menfolk that first came here, back in the dawning of the world, insulted the island's spirits. They got cursed, their sons got cursed, even their male dogs and pigs got cursed. All of 'em what changed survived. The rest died rather horribly. "Is that why they, uh ..." Tom made a cutting motion with his fingers. "I recken so. They did do it sorta ceremonial-like, though they never did offer up a reason for doin' it." Tom lowered his head into his hands, then shook it back and forth. "I'm not sure I can handle this. It's just too damned bizarre. An island full of women, a place that changes men into -- into -- well, into eunuchs, and it's not even on the map!" With a furrowed brow and a rather puzzled look, Sam inquired - "It's not?" "No! I picked up new air and sea charts three years ago and this place just isn't here!" "S'truth! Guess that explains why we don't get more visitors. So why ain't it on the map? With all them fancy new satellite things crowdin' the sky, you'd think they'd spot somethin' this size, wouldn't you?" "Sam, nowadays they got satellites that can tell what brand of smokes you're carrying by reading the pack. They're sure the hell not going to miss a fuckin' island. Somebody, somewhere, has to know about this place. God, this is so confusing! Of course, none of this is helping me make up my mind!" He was almost screaming by the end of that last sentence. "Don't look now, mate, but you ain't got any time left. They're comin' for you." He turned to look, of course. Four women and one of the teenagers were heading for him. Three of the women he recognized from his village - his keepers. The other woman and the teenager were strangers. "The older blonde one's Rhoda. The young'un beside her is her daughter Beth. By the looks of things, I think Rhoda's givin' Beth first crack at you." Tom saw a very pretty thirty-something blonde woman walking beside a beautiful, blonde-haired, blue-eyed teenager who was no more than fifteen and was wearing nothing but the usual grass skirt. The girl's breasts were moderate sized cones pointing straight at him, capped with light pink aureoles and nipples. Like everyone else, she was darkly tanned, and that contrasted sharply with her varicoloured golden tresses. Very shapely, she had long arms, long, coltish legs, and an utterly captivating smile. Both cheeks were dimpled as the women approached. Beth stepped in front of the others and spoke to him in a smooth, melodious voice, then held out her hand. "She wants you to go with her and put a baby in her tummy. Tom, Rhoda was my first here, and she's got two of mine, so I know her an' Beth better'n my own sisters. Rhoda's nervous, and Beth's scared as shit. You could probably get away with turning her down if you took Rhoda instead, but I wouldn't bet the ranch. Unless, of course, you'd rather head into the jungle." Tom couldn't help himself. He stared. And stared. The young woman looked so beautiful. She was almost the twin of his ex wife when she was that age, when he had first fallen in love. Those blue eyes seemed to grow larger and larger the longer he looked. Eventually, he could see nothing else. Sam said something, but the words just flowed around him, unnoticed and totally ignored. When she blinked and tilted her head, he came back to himself, sort of. Tom allowed her to take his hand and pull him to his feet. She then led him away to a nearby shack, with the others following close behind. Sam watched him go. A sad, wistful smile slowly crept over his face as the women and their newest captive entered the hut. Tom turned and looked back just as they were leading him inside, his expression reflecting his agonized indecision. Then he was gone. "Poor bloke's had his mind made up for him, just like Rhoda did to me." Sam was talking quietly to himself. "You gonna have any regrets, Tom? Lots of em? Maybe just one big'un, like me? Or you gonna go like Jack did instead? He always was the brave one. Sometimes I wish I had half his guts." <Fin> ******************************************************************** Author's notes: I've always wondered about being lost on a desert isle, with a whole lot of beautiful, attentive women around. Would it really be like an adolescent wet dream? Tom Largent - the protagonist. 5'11", 170lbs, blonde, blue eyes, slender, wiry muscles, very handsome. Leiana - Tom's sometimes girlfriend, before the crash. Raquel - #1 woman, the nurse. 5'6", 110lbs, 23 yrs, black hair, dk brn eyes, moderate build, moderate breasts, good looking, virgin. Elizabet - #2 woman. 5'2", 140lbs, 34 yrs, black hair, dk brn eyes, solid build, fairly large breasts, very good looking. Marilyn - #3 woman. 5'5", 130lbs, 22 yrs, light blonde hair, blue eyes, curvy build, moderate breasts, pink nipples. Sam - the last one shipwrecked. 6'2", 200lbs, blonde, blue eyes, heavy, strong, pert breasts. Jack - Sam's old buddy. Rhoda - Sam's main squeeze 5'8", 130lbs, blonde, blue eyes, medium figure, 35, good looking. Beth - Rhoda's eldest daughter. 5'6", 96bs, blonde, big blue eyes, slender and coltish, small cone-shaped breasts, light pink nipples. Beautiful. Generations: A - 9-10 years - virgins B - 15-16 years - virgins C - 22-23 years - virgins D - 34-35 years E - 42-43 years F - 47-48 years G - 55-56 years H - 61-62 years - Mama-san ===================== Amazonia by Tom Bombadil -30- -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | <http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/>----<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.html>