Monster Sex On A Hot Jungle Night

Monster Sex On A Hot Jungle Night

Starring Natacha 3

by The Preve

based on "Jungle Night" by MB109-DA featuring Natacha3

The Author wishes to express his deepest thanks and appreciation to MB109 and Natacha3 for their permission in writing this story.

Warning: Lots of monster sex, controversial stuff, very adult.

Merde! This little adventure was a fucking bad idea. What the fuck happens now?

A question cycling 'round and 'round Natacha's head, from the moment she met the natives, On an island I'm definitely not supposed to be on, to the moment they left her staked, naked and spreadeagled, slathered head to toe in a strange, sweet-smelling oil, on the lush jungle ground.

In spite her present predicament, Natacha didn't blame the natives for it. It was fate, an inevitable consequence stemming from the risk-taking, adventurous life she led.

She'd ever been the rule breaker since childhood. She'd gotten herself into trouble on more than one occasion, and got herself out of it, often.

She neither liked, nor wanted to rely on, friends and family to bail her out. It was one of the graces her moneyed, aristocratic family respected: when she got into it, Natacha took responsibility.

Another grace in which her family took comfort was, at least, her constant risk-taking hadn't led to drugs or alcohol. Her addiction, if any, was to adrenaline, albeit could be argued her constant bed and bone jumping qualified as well.

Natacha also took every opportunity to try her luck, which is how she wound up in her present predicament.

Her hard work, these past seven years, as a hostess for Aero Paris, resulted in a raise, and a unique 32nd birthday present: an all expenses paid trip to Tapu Tapu Island Resort, in the Andaman Islands.

It was perfect; perfect because she had her sights set on that area since a college trip to India, ten years ago.

The Andaman Islands numbered at least two hundred, dotted with resorts. Tapu Tapu was a resort in the Southern Andaman area.

Natacha, though, wasn't so much interested in Tapu Tapu, as in two other islands: Chindi, near Tapu Tapu, had a much more budget friendly resort. South Sentinel, however, was her actual target.

She had her reasons. Tapu Tapu would be useful for a couple of weeks relaxation, but Chindi was convenient as an entryway to South Sentinel.

All it took was to add accumulated vacation time to extend her trip to a month long sabbatical: two weeks on Tapu Tapu, one month on Chindi, With a side trip to South Sentinel.

So why South Sentinel? Different reasons for Natacha: the challenge, the lure of the forbidden, the adventure, bragging rights for a selfie with the elusive South Sentinelese.

South Sentinel Island was every bit as forbidden as its northern counterpart, if not more so.

The difference stemmed from the South Sentinelese more extreme elusiveness; rarely seen on the beach but every bit as hostile as their northern brethren, so the stories went.

Attempts to contact them, however rare, either bore no fruit, or the offenders simply vanished without a trace.

Not that challenges like these discouraged Natacha. If any, they drew her like a moth.

She planned Project Sentinel carefully, in the months preceding, or so she thought.

"Spend two weeks at Tapu Tapu. May as well use that gift.""Head to Chindi for the budget part (don't tell anyone where I'm going exactly. They'll know I'm in the area and that's it.)" Given that Natacha had a habit of dropping off the map, her friends and family were used to it."Find a fisherman or tourist guide to get me close to the island, without violating the local laws.""Windsurf to the island, find the natives, snap a selfie, and windsurf back to Chindi. I get caught, all I have to do is say I got blown off course."

Everything, from Paris to Tapu Tapu, went smoothly. Prior to the trip, Natacha did some touch ups for swimsuit and bikini purposes; waxing and electrolysis mostly. She'd always preferred the smooth look. Plus, it made her low maintenance from the grooming standpoint.

The only hiccups from the plane, and the cruise ship, stemmed from the constant hits other passengers made on her.

She was used to it, but it got annoying sometimes. She was hot after all, so it couldn't be helped. Her curvy but fit body, complemented by her D-cups, symmetric model face, steel-blue eyes, and glossy black ink hair, drew many looks.

Natacha's looks suited her well as a hostess. Still, more than a few were surprised by her energy, both in bed and in life; few could keep up.

It was the Americans who annoyed her the most.

"Overly bragging, entitled narcissists who watch too many of our movies," she sniffed. "And most of them are too fat."

She took a couple to bed on the cruise ship but they weren't much fun.

"Natacha Trois? Your last name is a three?" asked one, some college kid from Washington State, USA.

"So far as you're concerned, yes."

Natacha rarely gave out her actual surname. Considering her family's wealth and prominence, she didn't want her relationships advertised, brief as some of them could be. Her employers at Aero Paris were good about it.

Tapu Tapu, itself, went great, with the exception of the overcast days. It was the beginning of the monsoon season. No rain yet but warm and humid.

One advantage was it allowed Natacha to retain her pale skin. She didn't feel like bronzing just yet.

Natacha spent most of the two weeks at the Hyatt and the spa. She enjoyed a dalliance with a wealthy businessman from Mumbai. He did well, but she'd had better.

Two months later he recognized her photo on CNN. He kept his mouth shut. He was married after all. He wasn't the only one Natacha would meet over the following month to have a reason not to help the authorities.

She purchased a windsurf board and sail. At the end of the two weeks, she checked out and took a ferry to Chindi.

She'd already arranged to rent out a small bungalow.

Bangalore Jack Tourist Service was run by an eponymous Australian, who was more than willing to take a bribe to get her near the island. Not too close to arouse suspicion or break laws.

To cover his ass, he made sure to snap her picture, and film her windsurf towards one of the sanctioned islands.

While Natacha didn't exactly say where she was headed, he had an idea. She wasn't the first.

"I don't think we'll see her again," he thought, steering his boat back to Chindi. "A shame. That Sheila's gorge."

Getting on the island was easy. Hiding her surfboard and sail were easy. Finding the village was going to be easy, she thought. The island was small, Should be easy.

"This is too easy," thought the village Elder, silently watching the Pale One. Their kind didn't come to the island often, and The People usually left them alone, only killing the persistent or the rude.

The scouts had reported this one the second she set foot on the island. The Pale One obviously thought she was being stealthy. They always did.

"Clumsy creature, stumbling around like that," the Elder thought. Sneaking up on her felt almost like an afterthought.

Pale Ones rarely stayed for very long. Ofttimes keeping to the shore, fixing their canoes, then leaving.

The persistent were the problem ones. A few carried and waved strange crossed twigs on their necks, shouting incomprehensible words, and waving around weird objects with strange symbols inside.

The people avoided them, and they usually went away. Some left their twigs and objects behind. They made good kindling, at least those twigs that weren't made of metal.

The rude ones ranged from annoying to out and out dangerous. A few carried thundersticks that spit fire and killed from a distance.

The Elder thanked his ancestors that none of The People were lost to these weapons.

The annoying were less a problem, albeit the Elder remembered a couple from his youth. The male was fat, loud, and dressed gaudy, like one of the roosters from his village.

He also wore strange, round objects over his eyes, like small puddles reflecting the jungle. A view through them made the world look like night.

He wore one of those broad covers on his head, as many of his fellow Pale Ones often do.

Finally, he had these adornments, shiny and yellow metal, not like the crafted wooden links some of The People wore.

He looked ridiculous.

His female companion looked less so in wear. She looked comely for a Pale One, but the new one looked more so.

The new one wore coverings the Elder had seen before. Intruders on the beach often wore her type of covering. At least she didn't carry one of those lightening boxes like the others.

He chuckled at the memory from his youth. The fat one had a lightening box. He was annoying, and rude, and obnoxious. The People couldn't understand a single word he said. The noises and gesticulations he made almost looked as if he were giving orders.

It was a farce.

When The People took him for sacrifice, he made these squeaky, panicked sounds, offering his adornments, and these strange looking leaves, with images of Pale Ones on them.

The People took them anyway. The leaves made good kindling. The adornments weren't much use, except as decorations. The coverings, the couple wore, were useful but didn't last long.

The fat one, and his companion, were anointed and given to the Other Ones.

The Elder wondered how this one was going to react. He turned to a boy.

"Go back to the village. Tell the women to come with the holy oil. This one looks persistent."

"Yes, Elder One," the boy scampered off.

The Elder turned to the rest, "Wait awhile. Watch if she comes deeper."

When the men surrounded her, Natacha didn't scream, a testament to her experience.

She knew enough in these situations, fear and panic served no purpose. That knowledge did not reduce her surprise, however.

The men came out of the jungle, seemingly from nowhere, flowing like dark shadows.

They gave her no time to gasp. Her arms were grabbed and held behind her back, faster than she could react.

"Merde!" she thought. "They were so fast!"

Her captivity allowed her a closer look at the men.

They were tall, at least taller than her, and wiry in build; very dark-skinned, as Sentinelese were, and covered in tribal markings. There wasn't much else to distinguish about them, except for the spears, and the loincloths.

Natacha's actions, she knew, may have been reckless and illegal, but she'd never considered herself a clueless idiot tourist either. She'd had no intentions of contacting the natives directly, nor interacting with them.

Snap a selfie from a safe distance, then split. Leave as little a footprint as possible. Merde! So much for that plan.

The look the slightly elderly man, who seemed to be the leader, gave her put a chill through her spine.

Putain! Je suis dan la merde!

It wasn't a lewd, lustful look, like oh so many cheap pulp adventures. The look was cold assessment, like appraising some cow to be slaughtered.

Oh putain! Please don't let these guys be cannibales!

The others holding her held the same look. It didn't help when the leader grunted an order and a whistle. All the men drew knives. Most looked made of stone or bone, some were metal. All looked very sharp.

Okay Nat! Time to go! Natacha prepared a fight or flight response. An arm around her neck, plus another man helping her captor, thwarted that plan.

The men came forward. Oh fuck! They're going to carve me like a chicken!

It came as a shock when, instead of plunging knives in, they cut off her clothes.

A few deft strokes divested Natacha of her wet suit and rash vest.

A couple of men went through her vest and found her iPhone, which they promptly threw away, as they had no use for it.

Natacha, having opted to go commando, now stood captive, before barely clad natives, in just her booties.

How bloody embarrassante!

The Elder stood, appraising the Pale One. She was very comely for her kind. Her skin almost moon pale, and unmarked. She had no hair between her thighs.

Unnatural, he sniffed, and improper. Her cleft indicates good breeding potential, were she of The People.

He noted with interest her hair was just as black as The People's. Her eyes though, Most amazing. Like storm clouds against the blue sky. Could she have come from there?

It was possible. He'd heard stories of intruders floating down from the sky, under clouds. Some suggested they might have something to do with the strange birds that passed occasionally over the island. He dismissed that nonsense. Right now The People needed to deal with this one.

The Pale One started to speak, gibberish of course. He let her go on, waiting for the women to arrive with the oil.

The boy returned, the women accompanying, including the Elder's wife, and a jar.

The wife's eyes widened upon seeing the Pale One.

"Another one?" she asked.

"She was persistent. Very annoying."

"It's been a time for someone such as this to arrive. Interesting eyes on her. Can't understand a word she's saying."

"Gibberish," the Elder snorted. "Incomprehensible. Anoint her so we can give her to the Other Ones."

"Better tie her up first, and get rid of those leggings she's wearing."

The Pale One made some outraged squeaks when they tied her wrists. She fought. The men had to hold her legs to keep her from kicking.

The Pale One was then led to a Banyan tree, where the rope was looped over a branch.

They hoisted the Pale One by her arms until her feet barely touched the ground.

The men stepped forward and grabbed her legs. She kicked again, but the men were strong and pulled her leggings off.

The women stepped forward to begin the anointing.

The Pale One was slathered, head to toe, in the holy oil (if Natacha were a trained botanist, she would have identified the oil as from a rare, hitherto undiscovered species of Sandalwood), and then taken down.

The anointing blushed the Pale One pink. The women took great care to slather her breasts, back passage, and the flower between her legs, to attract the Other Ones.

The Pale One expressed great agitation at this act, and made loud noises.

The Pale One continued this annoying cacophony (the Elder snorted, I shall be glad to be rid of this one. Maybe the Other Ones will eat her.) while the people led her to the sacrificial clearing.

They tied the Pale One, spreadeagled, to the stakes, anointed her breasts and flower some more, and left. The sun god was on the way to his house, and soon his sister moon would travel her path.

"I have a chicken with yams waiting in the pot," his wife said, to the growls in his belly. He hugged her close. She was a good woman.

"Do you think the Many-Legged Ones will get to the Pale One before the Others?" asked the boy. "They love the oil, so I heard."

"There's not much the Many-Legged can do before the Others arrive," the Elder answered. "The Pale One's only worry is if they enter her cave. It will complicate things for the Others."

"Oh," the boy said no more.

Hours later, Natacha lay, squirming in the moonlight. The centipedes had left, and now she was cursing her predicament.

Her mind cycled back to that tree, where the women, every bit as wiry and tattooed as the men, slathered the strange, sweet-smelling oil, paying extra attention to her intimates.

"Merde! Not there! Get away from me you..." She stopped herself. One, they wouldn't understand what she said anyway. Two, she was the stranger here.

Still, looking back, I acted the stupid tourist idiot, didn't I?

Only entitled tourist types, she herself despised, used loud speech, threats of arrest, offers of valuables, etc...

Merde! I acted like a spoiled rich kid!

Natacha's mortification stemmed from personal experience growing up among the entitled, oft with literal titles, relatives included. Her adventures were attempts to get as far away from that crowd as possible.

And now I'm acting just like them, idiote!

Something came by earlier. A dog maybe. It sounded like one at least. Whatever, it watched her for a few moments, At least it felt like it, then ran off, barking loudly as it left.

Then the centipedes came. Maybe those were what frightened the 'whatever' away.

It was easy to see why. These weren't just regular, ordinary centipedes. These creatures were prehistoric.

She'd shrieked at their touch. Natacha noted, wryly, in hindsight, that she probably discovered a new species, Or rediscovered a very old one, but didn't think of that at the moment.

It wasn't like earlier, with the tinier, normal-sized insects.

Giant centipedes swarmed her body, countless legs tickling, crawling, driving her to near madness.

If only they'd stopped at the tickling, it would have been enough, but no, they got worse.

The oil acted as a delicacy, and most of it, and as such, the centipedes, concentrated around her nipples, and clit.

They provided the true insanity of her peril; tongues and mouths from previous lovers had given those areas attention, but centipedes...?

She yelled and screamed herself hoarse. Her body squirmed and wriggled on the ground beneath.

It was torture. The centipedes licked... and licked... and licked... and Natacha shuddered... and the centipedes stopped.

Natacha lay exhausted, covered in oil, sweat, and centipedes, quivering in near total mortification.

Dieu Merci, that no one saw, and no one's going to know... if I get out of this.

It took a few moments to realize the reason they stopped. Their antennae were raised, as if listening for something. Then, in less time it took to blink, the creatures scampered off her body, into the undergrowth.

What was that about? The woman lay, slightly panting, nude body gleaming in the moonlight.

Then she heard it; a rustle at the edge of the clearing. She looked, she saw, she cursed.

"Putain!"

It was big, mostly in shadow, but standing on two legs. It looked humanoid.

She could hear its heavy breathing, vaguely reminding Natacha of a bull.

It approached her slowly, on thick, heavy legs thudding the ground.

Natacha remembered a movie she saw as a child: Forbidden Planet. The thrill she felt watching the Id Monster approach its victims.

But this is real, and she was naked, exposed, spreadeagled, her womanhood wet and wide open to the thing. The explorers' fear of the monster was her own now.

Her heavy breaths matched those of the creature.

"I'm going to be eaten," she thought. "Ripped to bloody shreds because I was such a putain d'idiot!"

She'd weep from her idiocy but Natacha was not a crybaby. She'd never been one.

Nor could Natacha say she had anything to be sorry about, nor any apologies to friends or families.

Pas d'excuses, aucun regret.

The creature rumbled a deep growl. A low, deep vibration resonating with Natacha's belly.

A growl, from some mysterious creature of the jungle alone, would be terror enough for the Parisian. The creature's step brought it into a patch of moonlight, and Natacha received a full view of an abomination of nature.

"Mon Dieu!"

God, however, could have created such a monstrosity, accept as a joke, and the Deity was never known for a sense of humor.

It was humanoid, that was obvious; tall, muscular, seven to eight feet in height. It stood upright, but exuded an overwhelming bestiality, below that even of apes. The shape of the human was as far as this creature went.

Its thick, leathery skin, black with patches of dark brown fur, blended with the almost reptilian scales appearing across its body, mostly on its legs.

Its face, oh its face. A blend of lizard and ape, as near a demon from hell as Natacha could imagine.

"Perhaps it is," she thought.

A thick, forked tongue slithered from its fanged mouth, licking around its black lips.

Its ears, pointed, like giant elf ears, but almost akin to horns at the tips, adding to its demonic appearance.

Its head, giant yet proportional to its powerlifter body, set atop a thick muscular neck.

The creature stalked toward her, animalistic lust written on its face.

The flash of moonlight vanished and the creature, thankfully, went into shadow.

Natacha did not want to see the teeth which would maul her to shreds.

Something else occurred, however, that would send a shudder through her body. Something she, hitherto, had not noticed, so focused was she upon the creature's other features.

In hindsight, Natacha thought, Of course, a creature like that would sport the thing all males have.

It swelled from between the creature's legs. She couldn't see it in full, but what she did see created the impression of, Long and thick, and the creature was kneeling between her legs with it.

It crawled forward, and over her body. Its black, obsidian shaft sat poised at her wet entrance. Natacha braced herself.

Oh merde! Here it comes!

Then it began.

The entry was not so much a stab as a slow, almost patient, insertion.

The cock made a sound, wet and soft, "ssshhhh" as it slid in. The sound coincided with the low growl from the creature, and the soft hiss from Natacha, through her gritted teeth.

The stretching of her walls confirmed Natacha's suspicions of its length and girth. The ease of the monster's entry came as a mild surprise, but Natacha was well lubricated.

Those fucking centipedes.

The monster penetrated deep, until its cock tip reached her cervix. Then the fucking truly began.

The monster drilled her through the night, sliding in and out, making no sound other than low growls. Its lustful, bestial face looked at her, saliva dripping from its fanged mouth, onto her oil and sweat-soaked body.

Natacha gazed back, not defiant, but not fearful either. She knew this creature could kill her at any second. There was nothing to be done but submit to this... "mating" and see what came next.

Natacha felt the power of the creature's thrusts throughout her body; from the bulge in her groin, due to the monster's girth, to the roll of her belly, to the up and down sway of her breasts.

The noises she made also expressed that power, done often with lovers past, but more forcefully here; rhythmic grunts punctuated by orgasmic moans, repeated over and over.

"Uck!... Uck!... Uck!... Uuughnn!... Uck!... Uck!... Uck!... Ooohhhh!..."

Her body responded, as with the centipedes, not just with quaking orgasms, but rising and falling arcs, bending as much as her tied wrists and ankles permitted.

Each pump from the creature drew squirts of cum, both from her and it.

Words soon accompanied her moans and grunts.

"Oh putain! Oh merde! Oh putain! Oh merde!" sang through the jungle night.

She didn't hear the other rustlings until the creature stopped.

Natacha rested, mouth open, steel-blue eyes wide, but not from fear.

What manner of creature is this thing?!

Then she noticed why it had stopped: others were here.

Oh merde! Je suis vraiment foutu!

Uniformity in size and appearance couldn't be expected from such creatures. Variations exist in every species. Certainly Natacha saw differences in height, fur coloring, even scales.

She numbered them at ten, but further rustlings meant more.

If that prospect wasn't enough, two others brought a moan: their height, most of whom matched the first, if not more, and their cocks, every bit as thick and long.

The creatures converged upon the couple. The creature on top of her, looked to the side and gave a bone-rattling roar.

The others stopped and assumed a waiting stance.

The creature looked back into Natacha's face, and grinned.

A grin?! It is grinning?!

The grin dripped with malevolence and menace, savage razor sharp teeth and forked tongue flickering from the saliva drenched mouth.

It was more than a grin. It was the leer of a predator.

The monster withdrew. Its cock slurped out, followed by a gush of cum.

It stood and turned to the others, pointing, and speaking with grunts and growls.

The others barked back, but assumed a group formation. The sexually experienced Natacha found it very familiar. Her adventures in sex never quite took her beyond more than two partners, but she knew what this group meant.

Putain! I'm going to be gang banged!

A grinning abomination stepped forward. Natacha braced herself once again.

They took her, one by one, through the night, each fucking and filling her until sated.

She stopped cursing after the fifth one.

She stopped counting after the eleventh.

She passed out after the sixteenth.

They fucked her even then.

The grunts and growls went through the hot jungle night, fading with the dawn.

The Elder and The People came to the clearing to view the aftermath, once it was clear the Other Ones were gone.

So was the Pale One.

The stakes were still there, but the bindings were chewed away.

A large puddle of man seed lay curdling on the ground.

"The Other Ones look to be attached to her," opined one.

"Maybe," the Elder responded, "we'll see. Right now we need coconut and fish. Assign the duties for the day."

"Yes Elder One."

In A Dark Place, Many Many Days Later, With Stone Walls, and Lots of Water.

She'd tried to escape; several times. They always dragged her back. No real punishments, just more vigilance.

She lost count of her days here. She was too distracted.

Fucking was constant. From the "men" it was mostly cocks. Cocks filling her pussy, cocks drilling her ass, every day, every night.

There were very few nights where bodies weren't on her, or cocks inside her.

The "women", and of course, there were women, used their tongues, mostly on her pussy.

It came as a mild surprise, waking one day to the now familiar feeling of something in her vulva, only to find a head bobbing between her legs.

In other circumstances, she'd be outraged. Here, she merely came, and waited until this one finished.

Natacha thought, initially, it was a man, until it removed its tongue, raised its head, and stood.

She saw breasts.

There weren't many differences between the males and the females, except for longer hair, breasts, and softer features. Plus, the females' tongues were longer.

Two points Natacha gave to these creatures were they kept her fed and clean.

The food was mostly root vegetables, coconuts, and fruit, plus an occasional raw fish. The creatures ate the same, with other meat. Natacha guessed, by the carcasses, them to be wild dogs and pigs.

Some of the creatures, male and female, looked at her with some of the same relish as they had the meat.

Natacha knew she could just as easily become a carcass, But something is holding them back.

The cleanliness came from the waterfall, and brook, near the cave. A waterfall under which she stood washing.

It could have something to do with this, she frowned, running her hands down her body... and over the pronounced swell of her belly.

They can breed with humans at least.

The nausea and growth of her belly was less surprising than she thought. It wasn't as if she could maintain birth control.

Natacha only wondered how large she would grow, considering the numbers.

Plus, some of the roots they gave me were strange, tasted strange, and I think had some effects. No telling what they did to me.

Personal care proved remarkably easy. The waxing and electrolysis meant no body hair for her.

I guess the only hair to worry about is on my head.

Natacha was aware she probably presented a very sensual image: nude, smooth, with swollen milk-laden breasts and pregnant belly that both sat well on her body. The water running over her, slicking back her hair, making her body gleam.

The abstract thoughts of sensuality helped her adjust and prepare. In a few moments, she had to go back to Them. They made no distinctions over pregnancy, albeit they took more care.

In The Dark Place, Some Months Later.

"AAAAHHHRRR! Puff! Puff!"

They were coming; through her parted legs, out of her womb, crowning through her vulva.

Her body had grown to almost impossible proportions. Her belly to gravid immensity. Her breasts to milk-filled giants.

Blue veins crisscrossed her pale globes. Her gravid body dripped with sweat.

Natacha's face grimaced with all the pain, anger, and strain of her labor.

The creatures grew more caring the larger she grew. Not by much, but they still kept her clean and fed.

The food consisted of more and more of the strange roots, and she received constant rubdowns, with tree bark whose sap smelled suspiciously like the oil from the natives.

The bigger she grew over the months, the more difficult moving about became. The creatures helped her with morning ablutions.

"I'm important to them, somehow," she'd thought. Natacha hadn't noticed any children. Are the women sterile? Do they need me for that?

Presently, she couldn't dwell on those possibilities. The first results of months of monster fucking, fertility inducing root vegetables, and oil rubdowns were exiting her body via her vulva.

The women were between her legs, watching the head crown, confirming the roots' work, in ways they no longer worked for them.

It was important. It would mean the reintroduction of fertility, halflings as the children may be.

The Outsider was lucky to be chosen as a breeder. She'd be more useful as food, otherwise.

Some Hours Later.

Natacha lay on her side. It was over. She'd had seven; she didn't know how many were girls, how many, boys.

The creatures were rubbing her down with the tree bark, and inserting something into her pussy. Its touch felt soft and wet, but not like a cock, or tongue.

"A root maybe?" she thought, before drifting to sleep.

One Month Later.

The Pale One staggered into the village. The women in the center, weaving the baskets, noticed first.

The villagers would slay the intruder under other circumstances, but they remembered the clearing. They sent a younger to inform the Elder.

The Pale One had the dazed look of a shaman who'd gazed too long into the Realm of The Gods. The marks on her belly told the women she had birthed.

"So, the Other Ones had use for her after all," thought the Elder, as the women led the Pale One into the main hut. We'll see what comes of this. They let her go for a reason.

One Month, Two Weeks Later.

Natacha lay on the mat, oiled, nude, and rested. The past month and a half was an almost one-eighty degree turn from the past year.

I think it's been a year, so far as I can tell.

The villagers had treated her remarkably well. The food they fed her was better than the cave. Some of it have those strange roots mixed in, though.

Neither the men, nor the women, touched her outside of the oil massages. The strange roots they fed her, almost like yams, were also used on her pussy. These were what the "Other Ones" used.

There was nothing sexual about it. Natacha thought, "I think these root vegetables have healing properties. I wonder what scientists would think if I ever got samples out." Certainly her pussy felt much better now.

I'm actually starting to get horny again.

The oil apparently had effects as well. After the tree bark and oil massages, the stretch marks on her body disappeared. If she hadn't experienced it herself, it was almost as if she'd never given birth.

What am I going to tell them after I find a way off this island?

Natacha figured her sailboard was still where she'd stowed it. She'd picked up a few words from the villagers, including the word, "Other Ones," for those creatures.

Natacha, back at the cave, had been surprised to wake up one day, to find the creatures vanished, With the babies... my babies.

When she left, there were none to stop her.

Now, she had to convince these villagers to let her go. They treated her almost like a queen, but their vigilance rivaled the, Other Ones; I'm still a prisoner.

At present, she could lay, wait, and pick up more of the language.

Maybe I can convince them to let me go.

The flap to the hut stirred.

Huh?

Three villagers entered. They were men. They were young. They were naked.

They looked on her with the nervous desire she'd seen on young men before.

Virgins, about to go for their first time.

She noticed the Elder and other villagers through the entrance, before the flap obscured them.

"Oboy, I know where this is going," or so she thought.

When the three young men began to change, as the fur grew, the skin turned to scales, and the tongues forked, Natacha thought, with slight detached horror, "Merde! Here we go again."

The Elder listened to the snarls and growls, grunts and moans, issuing from the breeding hut. The youngers would emerge as men soon. The rest of the men would have their turn after.

When the Pale One had finished with her services to The People, she would be given back to the Other Ones, who'd elected to stay in their true bodies.

The People, being more visible, elected the human appearance. The true form would attract more attention from the outsiders, and neither The People nor the Other Ones could have that.

As it stood, the Pale One could be passed between the two tribes as a breeder. The population had to be kept up after all.

It looks like she'll last awhile. She's strong and fertile.

Meanwhile, the Elder could enjoy that yam and pork soup his wife made... until his turn came.

Epilogue

The disappearance of the socialite, hostess, and occasional explorer, known in most circles as Natacha3, was one of the notable media stories of that year.

Her status as a daughter from one of France's most notable families, had much to do with the attention.

Initially, her disappearance went unnoticed. She was known for this activity after all. Plus, it wasn't uncommon for guests to rent bungalows at Chindi Resorts, and then spend most of their vacations camping on the nearby islands.

When it became obvious Natacha hadn't returned after a reasonable time, an investigation was launched.

Bangalore Jack was questioned rigorously, and became a center of media attention for awhile. The picture and film did their work covering his ass, and the notoriety actually brought him business.

The possibility Natacha may have sailboarded to South Sentinel was discussed. Search drones found nothing, other than a glimpse of a few natives.

The Indian government ruled out any ground search. South Sentinel was off limits, end of story.

Bangalore Jack, himself, had to refuse bribes and other lucrative offers to ferry reporters, curiosity seekers, and other mystery hunters to the island.

Most of the other tour guides, and fishermen, refused as well. The more willing charged too steep for many.

The official reason for the reluctance stemmed from fear of the harsh laws against contacting the natives.

Bangalore Jack, in a drunken conversation, in a bar with a reporter (a hot young number he was trying to charm into bed), offered another reason.

"Haw!" he laughed. "Of course nobody wants to go near the island. The locals are terrified of it. It's haunted."

"Haunted? As in ghosts haunted?"

"Naw, worse than ghosts, Rakshasa."

"Rakshasa? What in the hell are Rakshasa?"

Bangalore Jack leaned close, "Some Hindu demons, I heard. Shapeshifters and cannibals. I don't believe it myself but a lot around here do. Even the top investigators won't touch it."

"So the search parties won't go on the island because of some local superstition?"

"Hey! Don't look at me. I obey the law here. It's too much trouble to go there and 'sides, she might not even be on it."

"If she is, you think she's still alive?"

Bangalore Jack shrugged. "Don't know... maybe. A lush number like her would impress any native. She certainly made an impression on me."

The End.