The Red Tipi free porn video

Among his people, the womenfolk lived in a red tipi. It was a single canvas woven of the hides of countless buffalo, and in the tribe's better years, it had housed as many as twenty women. But as Diving Hawk parted the flap, he was greeted by the sight of only four. There were no children, either. Normally, he wouldn't have been allowed to see this. No initiated men were allowed passage. If they trespassed, violators were shunned?most never allowed to touch a bow again for the curse of entering the red tipi would spread even to sacred weapons. But Diving Hawk was here with special permission. Tonight, he would join the womenfolk. The four womenfolk sat about a fire in the middle of the tipi. The fire smelt of unfamiliar herbs. It was honeysuckle and rich soil mixed with the scent of a woman's groin. It was a pungent odor that he rapidly began to like. He took a deep breath of it, and the smoke made him lightheaded, as though he had just taken a toke of the sacred pipe. It was a calming sensation, and for the first time since he had volunteered himself to join the womenfolk, he felt some of his worries fade away. The smell soothed him, made the hours ahead difficult to fathom. The eldest of the womenfolk noticed the easing of his spirits. Her name was Silent Crow, and she gestured for him to approach. The lines on her face were deep. She was what a tree would be if it learned to move and speak in a human tongue. Rumor was that even she had never seen this ritual performed, and for one as ancient as her to have never witnessed this rite meant it was as rare as the birth of a mountain. The others silently watched, and Diving Hawk could not tell what they thought. There was Black Bear, mother of The People's three fiercest warriors and four most lovely daughters. Despite her age and the many births she had given, Black Bear was hearty and womanly. All but one of her children was dead now, but she loved the whole People with such passion that she remained strong in the face of her losses. Opposite her was Feathered Grass, who had been the first woman whose flesh Diving Hawk had known. She was older than him by several seasons, but time had yet to weigh down her beauty. And in her movements was the grace of a deer, something that time would never steal. Between them was Reed. Of all his generation, Reed was the most beautiful. Diving Hawk had protected her since she was a child, as she was inclined to wander into the forest and bring danger upon herself. When the Thunder Men raided with their boomsticks and horses, he had taken her by the hand and hid her while the other women were caught in the fields and dropped like flightless quail. Her face was still young enough to show everything her heart experienced, and she watched him uncertainly from over the fire, her eyes filled with sadness. His gaze locked with hers, and Diving Hawk worried that her sadness would shake his own resolve. Before he could think on that, though, Silent Crow patted Reed on the back and nodded towards him. Reed grimaced, tears pooled in her eyes. But in the next moment, she was composing herself. She looked to the ground, then walked over to Diving Hawk and took his hand. She kept her face turned away from him and led him quietly to her buffalo mat. They had all taken a vow of silence for this ceremony, and until he was fully of the womenfolk, none would speak. Following her, his eyes wandered over the form of this beautiful woman he had hoped one day to join. On any other evening, he would have found the sway of her young hips alluring, but he shared her sadness and felt her regret seep into his own heart. There was so much they were losing tonight, so many dreams they were sacrificing for their people. But a man needed to offer himself, and no others were brave enough or selfless. So the responsibility fell on his shoulders, and the weight of it would tear them apart tonight. But first they would be made one. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tilted her face up for him to kiss. Her eyes were closed, though the painful knot on her brow communicated all the regret in her heart. And gazing upon this, Diving Hawk could no longer bear it. He put his lips to her ear and whispered his only words of the night. "This is all we have left. We must make it everything we have wanted." Her eyes remained closed for the span of a hesitant breath, then she looked up at him again and in her eyes he saw the lover he had always meant to hold. Their first kiss was passionate, and it led them to the small cove of privacy afforded Reed in the red tipi. Beneath his hands he felt the firm flesh of her back, the tight curve of her hips. Her breath tasted of something dark and heavy, and its warmth made his blood boil. In a moment he had torn off her dress, and she had shimmied his loincloth until it dropped around his ankles. He smoothly stepped out of it as he laid her onto the buffalo hide, himself atop her. He'd shared carnal knowledge with several women by then, yet none of those women had been as sweet to behold as Reed. None of them had the magnetism of flesh that made him want to enter her so fully. None of them had the honesty in her eyes. And as he neared climax, the look on her face was holy. She was the embodiment of youth, and her joy was his, too. It led to a moment of human bliss like he had never known before, and he knew they would both savor this instant forever. Despite the vow of silence, they both gasped with the ecstasy of their union, and Diving Hawk's lungs were filled with the sweet, rich aroma of the womenfolk's fire. It made him more light-headed than ever, and in that state-of-mind, their love became more powerful than he could imagine. Yet as he emptied himself into her, he was seized by an urge to keep going. When normally he would stop and shrink, he felt a channel open inside himself and through it rushed every drop of his manhood. His testes pumped until they had nothing left to offer. It was the longest climax of his life, and it continued unabated. The channel widened further, and he gasped as something heavy rushed through it. It was the essence of his manliness. It came from his hips, from his legs, from the muscle of his waist. He felt it pour out of his chest, his arms, his neck?and in its wake was a euphoric weakness. He looked down upon himself and saw his body shrinking to a boyish size. In the next instant, he felt his face caving in on itself and its essence pouring through his body and flowing through his manhood into Reed. Worried that the transformation would distress her, he turned his face away. Yet his body was rapidly weakening, and soon his arms teetered and collapsed beneath him. He landed on top of her, and she clung to him tightly, gently kissing his forehead. His essence continued to pour out of him, and every spurt was ecstasy tinged with regret. He felt himself shrinking, his back cracking and crunching as he lost his manly stature. Even his very manhood was disappearing. What was once the length of a hand now was a plump thumb. Desperately, he ground his hips into her, and she lifted hers up like a spirit of the water lifting its cup to receive the rain. He continued to pour himself into her, and his testes tightened against his abdomen. The pressure built, and then he felt the flesh of his groin give. In the next moment, his testes were inside of him, and his manhood continued to shrink with every spurt, until finally it was a tiny toe. And in one last spasm, it pulled itself into him as well. They laid together for a long while. Diving Hawk was exhausted and could barely think. He clung to her the way he once clung to his mother, and it filled him with a great comfort that kept thoughts?good or bad?at bay. When he finally started to come out of his daze, he found her asleep in his arms. She looked so peaceful that he let her stay there. He watched her face, so holy in its sweetness. Then his eyes wandered to his arms. They had lost all their hair, and they had also lost a great deal of mass. Still, there was nothing womanly about them; they didn't have a woman's softness or glow. They were more like a boy's arms. Or a girl's for that matter. He couldn't tell the difference. He wasn't sure what he was anymore. He was tempted to spend the whole night there rather than undergo the rest of his transformation. But his energy had returned to him, and his back was starting to ache from lying on his side. Behind him, he still could hear the fire burning, and he knew the womenfolk awaited him. He gave Reed a kiss, a gentle one on the cheek, then pulled his arm out from under her head. She stirred slightly, but didn't wake. As he was leaving, he gave her one final look over his shoulder. She was beautiful. Soft, sculpted by gentle curves. She was every bit the young woman he had fallen in love with, but something was missing now. Where once a sexual thrill was weaved into the fabric of their love, it was now completely gone. He admired her beauty, but the way he admired the beauty of the moon or a lake at full tide. Looking down at his own body, he had lost everything that she would find attractive. The muscle had dissolved and his body was flat and featureless. He had also shrunk, it seemed, though not by more than the length of a hand. And down at the base of his stomach, his once proud manhood had drawn into itself like a turtle into its shell. He wondered if it was still a manhood buried inside there, or if it had already begun its own transformation. When he arrived back at the fire, Silent Crow looked him over once, very slowly, then nodded. She then pointed to a corner of the red tipi where a new buffalo mat had been laid out. That was to be his home. His home amongst the womenfolk. Did that mean he was now a she? He certainly didn't feel like a she yet, but then, he wasn't quiet the he he used to be, either. Uncertain, he lied down. Soon, Feathered Grass and Black Bear were at his side. Black Bear looked as uncomfortable as he felt, but her lips were resolved. Feathered Grass, on the other hand, seemed openly intrigued, and somehow that made him feel better, like this was something happening far away, something he was only watching from a distance. It wasn't happening to him. Yet Black Bear was watching him very carefully, and something in her great bearing seemed to be asking for permission. Permission to proceed, to make the next step in his transformation. He nodded to her, and she grimaced obediently and knelt down before him. She spread his legs apart, and putting her face to where his manhood used to be, she breathed her essence into him. He felt the difference immediately. Her warm breath flowed in, then there was a sudden dance and shuffle in his groin. Things shifted down there, his testes pulled themselves further into his abdomen, and the sensation made him gasp. She breathed into him again, it felt like his testes were glowing. They pulsed with his heartbeat, and the heat of it made him blush. In the next moment, his life was flashing before his eyes. He saw his mother again, as she had been when he was very young, and he was reminded of how much he had loved her. Then it was scenes of him running through the grass trying to catch locusts. His hands were cupped, outstretched. And then he saw his little brother again, still a baby suckling on their mother. He had been such an adorable child. How did Diving Hawk not notice it then? Those tiny, plump hands. Those bulging legs. At the time he only resented the stolen attention. But now he saw an adorable child. It made his heart flutter. Diving Hawk felt his testes shifting their course, veering away from each other and wriggling towards his hips. Their pulses grew stronger, flooding his whole body with waves of what he could only describe as love. Love for himself. Love for his people. And more than anything?every time his mind skirted the thought of them?love for children. Love for babies. How did he not notice before? They were so small, so beautiful. He wanted to hold them, to cradle their bodies. He would stare down at them for hours, watching every tiny movement in their faces as they slept, as they fed, as they giggled with their first human understandings. The very imagining of them made his heart well with powerful feelings. Black Bear released another long, heavy breath into him, and he felt his testes dancing inside him, nestling up against his hips. They were warm now. Warm as the flesh of another human being, of a baby in the womb. He could imagine what it would feel like. The baby growing inside him, getting strong and healthy. He would carry it with him for months and months, and it would be his precious gift. He would wrap his hand around his belly, and he would feel it in there sleeping, stirring, kicking, breathing. Oh, how much he had changed! Something inside him was becoming a woman, and it would want babies. Already his testes had transformed into something else, something that made him squirm with delight when he thought of being pregnant, when he imagined having a child of his own. And it would happen soon. It would happen soon! He had no idea that becoming a woman would fulfill him this way. When Black Bear pulled away from his new womanhood, he gave her a long, thankful look. It eased a great deal of the discomfort from her face, which was only right. He felt very little discomfort now, and instead was filled with warm thoughts of children. He didn't even notice when Feathered Grass slipped between his legs and put her tongue to his groin. The touch shocked him to attention. Her tongue was firm and slow. It circled the lip of his womanhood the way it might lick the final drops of broth from the inner walls of a bowl. He gasped uncontrollably, and then she did it again . . . and he moaned. He was embarrassed by the sound and kept it soft, but when she did it yet again, he had trouble controlling his voice. This time the moan was so needy and sexual, it didn't sound like him. He didn't want to believe he could make those noises, that from now on he would make those noises. She licked him again, and again. Each time her tongue grew firmer and his voice grew heavy and deeply pleased. He was swelling down there, transforming with each lick. He'd seen a woman's groin many times before, with its pink folds like a yawning oyster. That's what was happening to him now. The feeling of the transformation was slow and wondrous, and the pressure of Feathered Grass's tongue was a deep sensual throb. His moans were fading into pleased murmurs. The slow swirl of her tongue was the ebb and flow of a great placid lake. He felt the waves flow across his body, up his chest, down his arms, then retreat back to the pool of his womanhood. He began to think of sex, of slow sensual sex between a man and a woman. The man was inside her, grinding slowly into her womanhood. His thick hands held her by her shoulders, and that gave him leverage so he could journey deeper inside of her. She was moaning softly, her whole body warm. Her hand caressed the curve of his shoulder, then her other hand squeezed him by the waist. His muscles were hard, and her heart welled with admiration for his physical beauty. She allowed her hands to travel across his body, to feel the ripple of muscle and sinew. His biceps were like boulders, his chest as broad as a horse's. Her fingers pulled at the hair there, and his grinding grew fiercer and faster. She began to gasp with the pace of his thrusts. The lake, once ebbing and flowing inside of her, began to flood. She was swelling like a thin water sack ready to burst, and she began wailing just to release some tension. She wrapped her arms around him, buried her face in his chest. She hoped it would muffle her screams. Instead, she took great lungs full of his musk. It was rich and intoxicating; she had never noticed how good men smelt. She began kissing his chest, then biting it. Anything to release the pressure building up in her womanhood. This only made the man's thrusts fiercer, and she began to scream, and scream, and scream. Waves of pleasure washed over her, a hot red tide. And then everything in her was spent, and she collapsed beneath him with a sigh. When Diving Hawk came to, he was plastered with sweat and his skin was still tingling and warm. Black Bear was padding him with a cool sponge, and he took a deep breath of relief. He wanted to ask her what happened, if he had really screamed like the woman in his fantasy. But he decided not to break his vow again. Glancing at Feathered Grass and seeing the pleased smile on her lips, he suspected the answer would embarrass him anyway. He looked down at his body, but it was unchanged from the childish form it had taken. The only difference was a hint of pink protruding from the folds of his womanhood. Yet beneath that, he knew that he was as fertile as the earth. Someday he would bear children of his own, but staring down at his childish hips, a deep instinct told him that couldn't happen yet. He wasn't a woman. And he was feeling impatient to begin. Black Bear must have noticed. She sat down beside him, cradling him in her arms. She was a large woman, and Diving Hawk had become thin, like a child on the verge of puberty. He easily folded into her hug, which was warm and soft. He nestled into it, enjoying the human comfort. Her breath was slow and deep, and the rise and fall of her chest rocked his head back and forth. Eventually, she took one large hand and rested it behind his head. Her hold was so gentle, though, that he barely noticed it moving his face towards one of her heavy breasts. Before his lips had reached her nipple, he knew what would come next. He wasn't eager to suckle on her like a baby, but already he knew he shouldn't look at it that way. She was about to share her essence with him, and he would drink of what it was to be a woman. He pressed his lips gingerly around her nipple, then with a hesitant squeeze of his lips, sucked in a trickle of milk. He had forgotten its taste, but was immediately grateful?if a little ashamed?to have this opportunity. Her milk was heavy and rich, and he took several more sips before swallowing. Black Bear seemed unsatisfied with his gentle sips, though, and pressed his head firmly into her breast. He resisted for a moment, but such a gush of milk came out that he was grateful for the extra pressure. He burrowed his face more deeply into her chest, and he drank heavily of her milk. Finally, obeying a long forgotten instinct, he lifted his hands to the either side of her breast and squeezed thick streams of her essence into his mouth. His belly began to feel heavy and warm. Her milk was the most wholesome thing he'd drunk in memory, yet he felt a rising hunger. His whole body shook like he had just run across the Great Plains on an empty stomach and now his muscles craved nourishment. There was an aching emptiness in his arms, his back, his legs?even in his face and his hands. Every inch of his flesh demanded a share of Black Bear's milk, and as he drank, he felt his skin absorbing her essence. His arms grew heavy and rounded as a woman's. His lips plumped up, his cheeks softened. And he felt, far more than anywhere else, the milk pooling in his hips and thighs. The sudden weight developing down there pulled uncomfortably on his lower back, and a deep throb began to pulse from his sacrum. He wriggled his hips for relief, until finally he heard a satisfying pop. The tension that had pooled in his back rapidly defused along his hips, and beneath his skin, he felt the bones cracking and widening. Yet almost immediately, the tension began to build in his lower back again. For lack of a better way, he continued to wriggle his hips. As his body grew heavier, Black Bear had more trouble supporting his weight. She lay down slowly, gently pulling him with her. Diving Hawk obliged, never releasing his lips from her nipple. As his body absorbed more of her essence, he was growing ravenously hungry. He couldn't seem to drink enough to keep up with his body's growing demands, and in the focus on feeding, he lost thought of much else. Periodically he'd pause to crack his hips and feel them spread, or he'd be distracted by the unfamiliar sway of his growing thighs or his heavy rear. His legs were now so thick that they always touched each other, like twin tree trunks that grew side by side. His whole body felt plump and satisfied, but it still had room to grow. He took long heavy gulps of Black Bear's milk, and she stroked his hair like a mother would her child. This kept up for the span of time it takes to start a campfire and watch it die. He was still drinking heartily and cracking his hips when he felt somebody watching him. He turned to look, twisting his head so he wouldn't have to break his lock on Black Bear's breast, and saw Reed standing just beyond his feet. She seemed sadder than before and didn't even notice him looking at her. Her eyes were fixed on his backside, which had swelled to womanly proportions. He was constantly cracking it now, which made his hips swing like a massive pendulum. He was both proud of its breadth?which easily surpassed Reed's?and ashamed of what he was becoming. He knew it was best for The People, and soon he would be a mother, a real mother! But the disappointment in her face struck a chord with him. He didn't want to make her sad, and in all these transformations, he was losing himself. Wasn't he? When he turned his attention back to Black Bear, he resolved not to crack his hips any more. They were womanly enough and would bear him a whole clan of children. He was even tempted to stop suckling, but the pangs of hunger in his belly were irresistible. So instead he focused on his hips. The tension was already growing again, but he locked his back and refused to crack it. Even when the pain began to pulse through his whole back, he resisted. Even when his cheeks grew red and sticky with the sweat of pain, he resisted. Then suddenly Silent Crow was at his side, her old face stern and angry. "It is not for you to decide," she hissed. "It is your body's will what you become. You must accept it now. A life of pain will come to you otherwise." He wanted to yell at her that she was wrong, that he should have some control. But the pulsing pain in his back told him she was right. If he refused to crack his hips, then that tension would never leave him. The pulsing ache would follow him to his death bed. He had no choice. His people needed a woman that could repopulate their tribe. And now, he was becoming that woman. When he arched his back this time, he heard it crack a dozen times?each crack echoed by a chorus of smaller cracks along his hips. Beneath his skin, he could feel the bones spreading like the wings of an eagle, like the arms of a mother about to embrace her children. It was a feeling of love and euphoria and pain. When it stopped, he took several long gulps, then exhausted beyond compare, he collapsed into sleep again. When he came to, he felt an odd suckling on his own nipples. He opened his eyes to see Black Bear on one nipple and Feathered Grass on the other. He still didn't have breasts of his own or the broad nipples of a woman, but his chest was soft and hairless. Black Bear didn't look at him, and he imagined she was embarrassed just as he had been. Feathered Grass gave him a wink, though, before returning her focus to his chest. Beneath their warm lips, he could feel something growing. It welled beneath his nipples, at first a hard little pebble that ached to the touch. He tried adjusting himself so the weight of the women's faces would be off those sensitive spots, but they were holding him in place. Still, he continued to squirm until the pebbles had nearly tripled in size and grown softer. They didn't hurt as much then, and he was able to relax into the women's suckling. It even felt good, in a way. It was like how breathing pulls air into the lungs, only it was their suckling that pulled fullness into his chest. His nipples were beginning to change, too. At first he couldn't even see them, as they were obscured beneath the women's faces. But he felt them spreading beneath their moist suckling, until finally he saw a hint of pink peek out from beneath Feathered Grass's lips. Soon, the edge of a pink areole appeared beneath Black Bear's face, as well. And inside their mouths, his nipples were thickening undeniably and becoming easier for the women to suck. Beneath them, his breasts were swelling noticeably. First they were little mounds that could be mistaken for fat, but with just a few more tugs from the women's mouths, his chest sported cute but undeniable breasts. Feathered Grass stroked the side of one, and the feeling was electric. They were still too small to cup, but when she pushed against one firmly, the whole thing moved as a single mass. It was reminiscent of having the shaft of his manhood squeezed, though softer. And the more they suckled, the more his chest swelled. It was swelling magnificently, too, and finally Feathered Grass really could cup its underside?and they kept growing beyond that. Soon his breasts were so heavy that even Black Bear had to cup hers to keep it from rolling away. Staring down at them, he couldn't deny that they'd already surpassed Reed's. They might have even rivaled Feathered Grass's. He wanted to be embarrassed by these blossoming mounds, but staring at them, he was overwhelmingly proud. Between their lips, his nipples were growing large and taught, and Feathered Grass flicked hers experimentally with her tongue. Beneath their mouths, the areolae had become like the caps of pink, snowy mountains. He was tempted to continue watching, but the transformation was beginning to exhaust him again. Instead, he laid his head down and simply felt as his breasts filled. They were definitely larger than Feathered Grass's by now, and although he tried to be optimistic at first, they continued to inflate without end. He worried he would become grotesque. And if not that, something about this was still wrong. He was becoming a gorgeous woman, it was true, but the old him was disappearing beneath all those feminine curves. He knew he shouldn't hold on to what he was, that he would soon be a mother and one of the The People's womenfolk and all these changes just made him better for those new roles. But at the same time, even as he envisioned a child suckling on his breast the way Black Bear did now, he saw Reed's face and the disappointment on it. Eventually the pull of the women's suckling stopped filling his chest. His breasts were as full as they would get, and Feathered Grass and Black Bear released their lock. He felt the weight shift as they let go of his breasts, like two heavy water sacks rolling onto their sides, and when he propped himself up to behold the transformation, his heart sank immediately. All his fears were true. His nipples stuck out like the tips of his pinkies, and their areolae had grown big enough to cover half a palm of each breast. His breasts themselves were voluminous, and as he took one into his hand, he was struck by its weight. There was nothing about this that resembled the man he used to be, and he knew all too well what men would think as they gazed upon him. Yet at the same time, that thought excited him in a way. And gazing at his full breasts, he began to envision his child grasping it, suckling it and squeezing it the way his baby brother had fed from his mother. He had so much milk in them that he could possibly feed the children of the other womenfolk, as well, and the prospect of those long hours cradling the babies made his heart swell with love. All his flesh would keep them warm, and the more he envisioned this future, the prouder he became of it. He was proud of what he was becoming, of what he had become! He was still marveling at the transformation of his chest when Feathered Grass leaned up next to his ear. She let out a single note, a little snippet of song that echoed through his mind like a waterfall through the canyon. She sang a few more notes, with rising in confidence and volume. It became a chorus in his mind, not exactly erasing his thoughts, but rather merging with them, transforming them into song. Her voice rose, and his own thoughts, once the mellow baritone of a young man's, rose to join them. Without even realizing it, he began to sing with her. His voice was an octave too low, but naturally, without even trying, it began to rise. He could feel his throat tightening, stretching. His voice climbed to reach the note of her song, but like a bird flittering away, she jumped several notes higher. His heart was beginning to flutter from the effort. Feathered Grass never lost a beat, though, and she kept singing high and powerful as an eagle on the wind. The sound still hummed in his mind, filling him with a lightness of heart he hadn't known since his childhood. It triggered images of his sisters laughing with each other, of his first love wearing an elaborate deerskin gown. She had worn an aquamarine bangle that he now noticed in a way he never had before?for the first time realizing how beautiful it was! He saw her smile and thought of heartfelt friendship, and in his mind, he saw Reed, too. And he knew they would rely on each other for the rest of their lives. He began to sing again, as powerful and feminine as Feathered Grass. Their voices merged, reshaped each other, and filled the red tipi with the sound of heaven. The other womenfolk were drawn to them and stood around them in a semi-circle. Black Bear was crying, and in a moment Reed began to cry, too. At that sight, Diving Hawk changed his pitch, made it more cheerful, and Feathered Grass followed. The others watched silently, and he could see pride crossing all but Reed's face. In a moment, though, even she acknowledged what had happened, and she smiled at what he had become. He had joined the womenfolk. He had become she.