In Lovely Zamobia free porn video

IN LOVELY ZAMOBIA by Throne Milton Mulch looked around the ramshakle coastal town with distaste written all over his features. He was a short man with a soft body and bland face. He glanced behind him along the dock, where his wife was stepping nimbly off the seaplane that had brought them to this tropical island. Davina Light (She had insisted on retaining her maiden name. Who would want to be Davina Mulch?) was a tall leggy blond with a beautiful face: wide-set blue eyes, dramatic cheekbones, pert nose, full sensuous lips. He shook his head disapprovingly. Why did she insist on wearing that blouse that didn't button quite high enough and those shorts that always let a hint of butt cheek peek out at the bottom? The pilot, smiling appreciatively at the sight she made, tossed her a full backpack, which she caught effortlessly. Davina turned and threw it to Milton. It hit him in the middle of his narrow chest and he stumbled backward. A tall bronze-skinned man who was standing nearby watched him struggle to keep his balance and grinned at the sight. The watcher had straight black hair, worn long. He was lean and muscular, his body shown off by the absence of any clothing except a loincloth. A very long one. Davina ran her eyes up and down that impressive physique and strode over to him. "Umbatta?" she said with a smile. "You are Umbatta?" He held out his large hand and said, "Yes. I am Umbatta." She took the proffered hand and rattled off several sentences in the local language, which she spoke fluently. Her spouse stood where he was, hugging the backpack, not understanding a word of what was, to him, utter gibberish. As the native made some comments of his own, again in that incomprehensible tongue, Milton noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head and was confronted with the striking presence of a dusky woman, as tall as Umbatta and with the same long black hair, very fit and -- under the few bits of cloth she wore -- impressively curvaceous. Her bust was full and rounded, waist narrow, hips and thighs generous in the extreme. He took a step and then another, putting himself in a position to see her bottom in profile; it jutted out invitingly. To someone else she might have been a dusky goddess, but to Milton she was -- despite his momentary interest in her contours -- just some primative wench who ranked very far below his civilized self. Davina called to her husband, "Milty, dear, come and say hello to Umbatta. He'll be our guide and take us to Zamobia and his village by the Ne'Quata River." Milton sighed and went up to the big man. Umbatta took the small white hand in his much larger dark one and gave a vigorous shake. Milton wished he was back in his study at home, where he could peruse his library of classical poetry. His wife's passion was anthropology, and she was highly regarded in that field. His interests lay elsewhere, though he had enough familiarity with her specialty to accompany her and act as her assistant, a position he considered to be well beneath him. Umbatta released Milton's hand and looked down at him, nodding inscrutably. Davina scooped up a bigger backpack, which was hers, and strapped it on. Milton reluctantly slipped into the smaller one that was his, having a bit of trouble donning it. The dark woman, without being asked, adjusted it on his back, tugging him this way and that as she did, as if he was a puppet. He huffed at her and raised his chin. As Umbatta had done, she eyed him from her superior height and nodded for some reason that eluded him. Umbatta spoke again and started off, with Davina right behind him. The native woman fell in behind her and Milton hurried to follow, his short legs working hard. To his wife he said, "I still don't understand why we didn't pack more clothing." "Well, dear," she said with exggerated patience, "I guess I should have mentioned it sooner, but for us to integrate ourselves with the tribe, we'll have to 'go native'." "Native? You mean half-naked?" "Exactly." "B... but, if I had known that..." "Too late," she chirped. "Now just come along and don't worry about a thing. I'm sure you'll find your place among these wonderful people. I can't wait to begin learning about all the amazing herbal cures and such that they have. If they'll share their secrets with us. And for that to happen, we have to join with them as equals, if they'll have us. It's important to me that you cooperate." There was an unfamiliar tone of authority in her usually placid voice. Milton didn't like it but, being so far from home, and not even speaking Zamobian like she did, he felt rather helpless. So he mumbled his assent and continued struggling to keep up as Umbatta led them out of town and off onto a trail through the thick rain forest. Milton saw the woman ahead of him tug at the minimal garment that wrapped her wide hips and pull it free. As she casually retied it around her neck he was mesmerized by the rolling motion of her round backside. She glanced back at him over her shoulder, dark eyes seeming to pierce his mind and read his thoughts. He tried to avert his gaze but then she removed the other minimal covering to free her heavy breasts. She turned fully around so she was facing him, still walking, going backwards with smooth steps, her eye-catching bust swaying slightly. He swallowed and almost tripped over his own feet. She laughed softly and spun around to resume walking normally. Milton felt his cheeks grow warm and knew he was blushing. This was all so disturbing. His wife began to chat with Umbatta, whose deep resonant speech flowed with an easy rhythm. He paused for a moment and, like the woman, removed what little he was wearing. Milton saw why that loincloth had been so long. The man's endowment was huge. The thought of his wife also observing it made the small man uneasy. He mentally compared what he was seeing with his own much less notable manhood. His mind was restless and distracted as they hiked for a full hour. Milton was getting ready to request a halt when they came out of the dense growth and found themselves on a river bank. They had reached the Ne'Quata. There was a long narrow canoe tied to an exposed root of a tree that leaned out over the rapidly flowing water. Umbatta stepped onto the narrow craft and helped Davina to do the same. The woman joined them and everyone watched Milton, waiting for him to follow. He went to the edge of the bank and stretched out one short leg, getting his foot into the canoe but not confident enough to keep going. The woman reached out, took him under the arms, and lifted him, turning at the same time to set him in front of her, very close. She did it swiftly and without losing her balance. Milton gazed up at her and blinked. Again she nodded and, not knowing what else to do, feeling more out of his element than ever, he nodded back. She considered his response with interest and then untied the rope from the prow and took an oar that was at her feet to push them out into the middle of the Ne'Quata. The current swept them away as Milton looked back at their point of departure, watching it vanish and feeling like a stranger in a strange land. Umbatta sat at the rear of the craft and used his own oar to adjust their course, keeping the canoe in the center of the river. In less than two hours they had reached Zamobia. By then Milton had been told by his wife that the woman with them was Adalla and that she and Davina would be tribal sisters, just as Milton and Umbatta would be brothers. As they got out of the canoe more tribe members came out of the jungle to greet them. They were all tall and fit. And naked. Davina turned toward her husband and told him that it was time to get undressed themselves, so that they would be accepted by their new friends. When he didn't respond at once she repeated the announcement, but with more force. As Davina happily begain to disrobe, Milton reluctantly undid the top button of his shirt. He had never been comfortable exposing his body. But this... among these towering bronzed specimens... with their obvious physical superiority... was unbearable. Without enthusiasm he started on the second button, just as his bride opened her blouse to reveal that she had on no bra. Davina happily finished undressing, while Milton lingered over each button. Soon, however, with her standing proudly nude and expectantly waiting, he was down to just his jockey shorts, which showed off how small he was between the legs. The Zamobians eyed his crotch with curious interest. At last, taking a deep breath, he got out of his final garment and stood there, revealed in all of his pale inadequacy. The onlookers murmured among themselves and several of the women tittered, obviousy amused. Umbatta and Amala spoke to each other and then he said something to Davina. She told Milton that he was to go off with the men and she would remain with the women. As the six-foot-plus males approached and then surrounded him, he felt increasingly uneasy. Someone patted him on the back as they started to move forward in a group and he unhappily went with them. Soon they had come to a grove of trees with fat ripe fruit hanging from them, high above. One of the natives climbed a tree, making it appear easy. He pulled loose a fruit and tossed it directly to Milton. The startled little man stood there as the object hit him on the shoulder. He stumbled backward and landed awkwardly on his unmuscular bottom. The men laughed. One of them helped him to his feet, yanking him up hard and then steadying him. The local pointed up the tree and indicated that Milton should climb it. Milton put his hands on the trunk and tried to pull himself up. He got a bare foot against the surface and attempted to raise himself that way. He even wrapped his legs around it and tried shimmying upward. That final effort made his genitals rub uncomfortably against the tree and he yelped, let go, and stood there clutching his crotch, which set off a hooting reaction. Next they moved on to pull up some sort of root vegetables. Milton again tried to duplicate what he saw them doing, and once more failed. He tugged and tugged without being able to obtain even a single one, while several natives easily filled a large woven basket. At the same time, three men who had stayed in the grove reappeared, their athletic arms full of the arboreal edibles. Those were piled into another pair of baskets. Men picked up baskets and one gestured for Milton to do the same. He heaved at one but couldn't raise it off the ground. When he began to drag it there were sharp words of criticism. Someone grabbed his basket and carried it off. The men departed that area, leaving him behind. He scurried after them, trying not to whimper. When they stopped again it was in a clearing where dried wood had been gathered and piled up. The men whose hands were still free each took several large branches. When Milton tried to do the same -- limiting himself to just one -- he had trouble balancing the length of wood. One of the Zamobians took it, handed him a slender branch and signalled him to come along with them. When they reached the village, a circle of huts, the women were already there. They had gathered flowers and were weaving them into garlands, with Davina easily duplicating their craft. His wife went to Milton as he set down his single branch and she draped the floral loop around his neck. Amala took another and wrapped it around his waist, fastening it in back with some trick of twisting the ends together. He was left feeling foolish, decorated with blossums that failed to cover his nakedness. But he was so un-self-assured that he simply stood there, looking ridiculous, and accepted it. His wife explained that the tribe members had decided he should have something special to wear, something that reflected how they saw him. Well, he told himself, at least they recognized his distinction. It was late afternoon by then and Davina stayed with the women while they fetched water. Milton remained with the males, but felt excluded as they built a fire and used machetes to prepare the food they had gathered for cooking. The water was heated and the females put the edibles into it, adding herbs and spices that they had brought from one of the huts. Milton stood by, shifting his feet around, trying not be noticed as he attempted to pull the flowers down in front to hide his diminuative male parts. Soon everyone was eating, their portions served in wooden bowls. Milton's bowl was smaller than all the others. He sat with it in his lap, grateful that at least for the moment he wasn't so exposed. After the meal there were songs, accompanied on simple instruments. Davina sang along, her voice harmonizing well, while her husband sat and wished he was somewhere far away. Then the deeply tanned tribals paired off and headed for huts. Umbatta said something to Davina. She explained to Milton, "You weren't able to do your share with the men, so it's your job to tend the fire and let it die out naturally, which it should do in a few hours. Then you can come to my hut. In the meantime, because it would be considered impolite to leave me alone, and since there's one more man than there are women in the tribe, Umbatta will visit with me. It'll be a great chance for me to learn more from him. A wonderful opportunity. Don't you agree, Milty?" He was tired and irritable but too intimidated by circumstances and his nudity to speak up. Instead he just muttered assent. Maybe talking with their guide would help her gather the information she wanted, and make their departure come that much sooner. He certainly hoped so. As she went off with Umbatta, Milton listlessly poked at the burning branches with the short one he had carried. His bride and the tall bronzed figure vanished into the last unoccupied hut. Several minutes later, as Milton sat there holding his branch with both hands, he began to hear sounds from the nearest hut. There were soft voices, accompanied by rising and falling moans. He was still trying to understand when similar vocalizations came from another of the primative structures. Soon he was surrounded by it, though there were less words and more wordless expressions of -- he jarringly realized -- pleasure. There was an orgy going on all around him. How would Davina react? She would probably be eager for Umbatta to detail how this savage mating ritual worked. Maybe she would come and get Milton, to be with her. It had been quite a while since he had enjoyed her body. One problem was that she wanted her husband to perform orally, but he was repulsed by the idea. He sighed and squeezed the stick hard. Milton angled one leg to raise his knee. He brought the stick down hard, intending to break it in two, but only succeeded in hurting himself. He sat there with his bare butt in the dirt, knee throbbing, naked except for those flowers, wishing he had something else to wear. Gradually the sounds of lovemaking faded. At last there was just a single couple who were... coupling. He listened to them as they continued, taking much longer than the others. At last the female let out a wild orgasmic cry. She sounded almost like... Davina? But his wife had never made a sound like that while in bed with him, so he dismissed the idea that it had been her. That was impossible. Wasn't it? Milton spent long hours under the stars, curled up by the embers of the dying fire. He fell asleep before it was completely out, unable to do even that simple job correctly. He woke up sometime after dawn, stiff and sore. With an effort he got to his feet. As he looked at the huts surrounding him, couples began to emerge. Umbatta appeared, with Davina close behind. She streched contentedly, a look of deep satisfaction on her lovely face. They were both still naked, which made Milton twitch. They came nearer and he noticed that there were bites marks on his wife's neck. He was glad that none of the insects that had found her had reached him. It must have been bugs that left those red spots. Right? After the moring meal, Milton went off with the men again, to spear fish and check traps. His efforts with a spear were comical. He was too squeamish to club the animals caught in snares. All he was allowed to do was to carry some of what the others procured. Davina and the women had brought back some exotic berries and herbs. She was excited by the latter, telling her spouse that they were among the ones that the tribe used to produce cures and other results. Umbatta spoke to her, pointed several times at Milton. She went to her husband and told him that, because he hadn't been able to perform like a man, he must wear some badge to identify him as less than fully male. Amala came and used some of the berries to color his lips. Davina said that the juice would leave its bright red stain for several days. Milton was horrified but it was too late to do anything about it. She told him that as long as he began to carry his weight, there would be no more marks of femininity put on him. But if he wasn't able to improve... She left the thought incomplete, causing him gnawing anxiety. Milton continued to lag behind the men of the tribe each day. He couldn't do anything that was expected of him. Davina had excelled at womanly tasks but also showed an aptitude for harder work. Therefore, a serious decision had to be made. All the Zamobians partook in a conversation, with Milton sitting outside the group, wearing only two fresh garlands of flowers, his mouth still colored bright crimson after a fresh application of berry juice. After the talk was concluded, Davina came to him, Umbatta alongside her, and they were holding hands. "We came up with a terrific solution," she enthused. "And it will help in my research, you'll be glad to know. Here's what we're going to do. I'll take your place with the men and you'll assume my role with the women. Isn't that clever?" She ignored his dismayed expression and went on, with a touch of sympathy in her voice, telling him, "Of course, you will have to be made to look a bit less manly. I'm sure you won't mind, however. I mean, this could lead to me writing a major paper and advancing to the head of my field. Aren't you thrilled for me?" "Well... but... I mean..." he said in a small voice. She responded, "Oh, and that's good, I mean for you to speak softly like that. If you try to reject your new identity, that will insult the women. I'm not sure how they would react but, well, it might be sort of... hostile. So just cooperate and everything will be fine. And don't try to sound like a guy when you talk. That'll be easy, since your voice was never really deep or resonant anyway." In mild shock, he could only blink at her as she chatted with Umbatta, still holding his hand. At the same she rubbed his arm, concentrating on that firm bicep. Milton was seized from behind my two tall women, who spun him around and led him away. His peripheral vision was filled with images of their firm but jouncing breasts. They led him into a hut and one of them put a hand on his shoulder, while the other put her fingers on his thigh, positioning them carefully. The first female uttered a single syllable and they both applied mild pressure where they were touching him. All at once he seemed to lose control over his muscles. Milton could barely remain standing. They lowered him onto a pallet in the middle of the hut and arranged his powerless limbs so they were out of the way. Next they produced herbs and began to grind them, after which they were put into a small pot of water that had been heating over a low fire. As the mixture warmed, filling the confined space with a spicy exotic scent, the females leaned over him, one to knead the soft skin of his chest, the other to do the same to his bottom. He felt additional blood going to those areas but didn't understand what the purpose of all this was. That was when they took the brew off the fire and dipped some out into a small hollowed gourd. They blew on it, taking turns, while speaking in their own tongue and tittering over something Milton didn't comprehend. Then one gently parted his lips so the other could pour the hot liquid into his mouth. His throat was rubbed and he felt himself swallowing. All those steps were repeated, over and over, for the next hour, until the potful of herb-water was gone. What happened next was even more startling and mysterious. They moved their hands to his wrists to again exert pressure, slightly more than before. He was shocked to feel himself become wildly aroused. His small member stiffened. His arms and legs remained unresponsive. They must be using something like accupressure, but unknown to the practicioners of that art. He writhed with frustrated passion, wishing desperatly that he could ejaculate, shameful though that would be in front of the two witnesses. This procedure too was continued for a full hour, until he was nearly exhausted from sexual stimulation. One of the women called to someone outside and a third of them came in carrying a small pile of wet leaves that were placed in the middle of a flat rock. The rock was laid on his belly and he could feel that it was warm. This woman gave his right ear a series of sharp pinches and suddenly his erection vanished. He gasped with relief, though he still felt an urgent need for release. The newcomer took the leaves and began to wrap them around his shrunken penis, working carefully, and making sure the covering was snug. Then she took the heated rock and set it on top of her handiwork. In a daze, Milton wondered if they were going to do anything else to him. He hoped not. But the most recent arrival went out and returned with some sort of creamy stuff carried on a square of animal skin. She got some on her fingers and rubbed it over the scant hair in the middle of his chest. The others each took some and applied it to his arms and legs, where there was also a slight growth of body hair. They worked quickly and efficiently, moving his still unresisting form until they had covered every area where even a trace of hair grew, as well as his jawline and under his nose, where facial hair would appear if he didn't shave. They saved his crotch for last, giggling as they liberally coated him there. When it was all done they went away, leaving him unable to rise, feeling quite helpless. He dozed, awakening more than once but always drifting back into sleep. Several times he was aware of darkness being replaced by daylight beyond the hut door, and then a return to night. They fed him more of the liquid, massaged his chest and bottom as before, and chattered among themselves. At last he felt them using their local form of accupressure again, and he came completely awake, with the need for sex still persisting, even more powerful than before. They helped him to rise and he stood unsteadily. Looking down he saw that they had strapped sandals to his feet, but the footwear had high heels. His eyes went wide as he saw that he had also had every bit of his body hair removed. But his biggest astonishment was that there were two bulging places on his chest. He had been given breasts. One of them women tittered at his reaction and then took his hands and moved them behind him, to his buttocks. He was horrified to feel that they too had been changed, and were now large and soft and round. It was as if he was caressing the backside of a shapely woman. He started to speak but one of them glowered at him and held a finger up to his lips for silence. She said something in a high whispery voice and then pointed to his mouth. Milton comprehended and started to speak again, but in a girly way, as his wife had advised before his transformation had begun. The native nodded her approval but then pointed to her ear and shook her head, indicating that she didn't understand his language. He wanted to talk to Davina. Feeling a bit steadier by then, he pantomimed his wife's curvy figure. The woman in front of him grinned and touched his breasts. Before he could correct her interpretation of what he wanted, she took his nipples, which had grown noticably, and rolled them between thumbs and forefingers. A jolt of erotic energy raced through him and he gasped. His penis tried to erect but... to his dismay... couldn't. He reached down and felt that it was still encased in those leaves, which were now dried and formed a snug coccoon over his yearning organ. All he could think about was his need for satisfaction. But when he tugged on the clinging vegetation all he accomplished was to pull at his sensitive skin. His dick was hopelessly trapped inside that short narrow sheath. The women crowded around him and ran their hands all over his body. One of them drew his face to her bosom and fed her own nipple between his parted lips. Overly eager for any sort of erotic contact, anxious to win them to his desires, he began to suck. She purred happily and let him continue for several minutes, effortlessly keeping him where he was. Then, instead of doing something for his pleasure, she passed him onto the next woman. They kept it up, using him like a plaything, until he had aroused all three of them several times. While he was doing that, they lightly stroked him, elevating his own needs ever higher, until he was ready to weep from the teasing and denial. He spoke his wife's name, thinking that might get him the reaction he wanted. Sure enough, one of them said something that sounded like an affirmative and stepped outside. The others kept him busy with his mouth on their breasts, and didn't relent with in their toying with his libido. By the time that Davina appeared, with Umbatta by her side again, Milton was in a tizzy from overstimulation. His wrapped member still strained futilely in its confinement. His wife smirked at him. She said, with undisguised amusement, "Oh my, Milty, you have certainly gotten into your new role as one of the girls of the tribe. Actually, your role is that of the lowliest girl. So be sure to do whatever you are told. And i mean 'whatever'. My research is going fabulously and I don't want anything to upset it." He began to say something in his natural voice but quickly caught himself. Substituting the female pitch and tone that was expected of him, he told her, "You have to do something, darling. Y... you're my wife." "Wellll," she said with a hint of regret -- but only a hint -- , "I'm sort of NOT your wife at the moment. Because you're now one of the women of the tribe..." She put a hand under one of his modest boobs and moved it up and down a bit. "... and you've undergone these changes, by local law I can't be married to you. So Umbatta generously took me on as his second wife. Wasn't that helpful of him? So all I have to do is stay in that roll..." She glanced down appreciatively at the tall man's crotch, admiring his equipment. "... and everything will continue to go smoothly.' "B... but what about ME?" Milton piped. "Wellll," she said and gave an elaborate shrug. "To complete your transition from man to woman -- lowliest woman -- you have to worship the other ladies. You know, with your mouth. On their pussies." "W... what? I can't... I won't..." he spluttered in this high voice. "I've never even done that for YOU." "I know, Milty. I know. So there's a certain poetic justice. And do a good job because, if you don't, they might put you under again and this time when you wake up, instead of those small and rather attractive breasts, you could have udders like a cow." He tried to speak again but choked on the attempt. His wife snickered and said something to Umbatta in the local speech, prompting him to laugh merrily. Then she spoke to the women. Davina held her first two fingers up in a 'V', turned her hand so it was facing her, and put her tongue where the digits met, licking spiritedly in demonstration. The women clapped their hands and two of them took Milton under the arms and led him outside into the sunlight, his boobs jiggling. The third one slapped him on his enlarged butt. "It's time for you to join them in performing womanly tasks," Davina explained. "But tonight, after the sun goes down, you're going to consumate your new status... with all three of them. And don't worry about me, Milty. I know Umbatta will take care of ALL my needs. Like he's been doing." "N... no," he peeped. "Oh yes," she assured him. "And it feels silly calling you Milton or even Milty. How about Milly? That's perfect, because in their language 'milly-ooo' means 'obedient girl'. How convenient." As the tribeswomen led him away they kept saying milly-ooo and then just Milly. Their fingertips brushed him here and there, keeping his excitation at a peak. He whimpered as he looked back and saw his bride and her new husband departing, Umbatta's large dark hand on Davina's bottom. Milton was led into an area that grew richly with flowers. The women plucked numerous blossums and fashioned them into a pair of garlands. One was draped around his neck, so that it fell across his new breasts, and the other put around his hips, where it barely covered his shamefully hairless crotch and did even less to hide his expanded backside. The problem was that with every step he took, not only did the heels attached to his feet make him assume a hip-swinging gait, but that in turn kept the garlands shifting, so that his newly acquired charms were always being immodestly shown off. He tried, by adjusting his shoulders and attempting to alter his walk, to improve the situation, but only made it worse. One of the females playfully pinched his butt and another flipped up the flowers in front so that his mobile boobs flashed everyone, including some of the men who were nearby, on their way to do some fishing. Milton yelped and mewled, panting from his elevated sexual urges, and kept trying without success to not show himself off so much. Worst of all, those leaves imprisoning his manhood still made it impossible for him to grow hard. Soon they were at the riverside, where he was put to work dipping dirty clothes, mostly the loinclothes that the men wore on ceremonial occasions, into the water and then beating them on a rock. The males who he had seen showed up in a long canoe, gliding along. Davina was with them, handling a paddle like an expert. They came closer and Umbatta raised his own paddle from the water, then swiveled his upper body to press his lips to Davina's, which were open and waiting. She lifted her own oar and put an arm around is muscular neck. The other men chuckled as they looked back and forth from her to Milton. They called out 'Milly. Milly.' His cheeks burned with shame. For the rest of the day the women had him picking vegetables, struggling to carry them to the village, and cleaning pots and utensils. By the time dusk arrived he was tired and sore, but would have preferred more work to what he knew was waiting for him. As the sun went down the men returned from fishing. They had a good catch and Milton was put to work gutting and cleaning fish, which made him queasy as he struggled to get it right. The women cooked the fish and everyone sat around in a circle, with Davina next to Umbatta and his other wife on his opposite side, all three of them looking quite happy. Milton was tasked with serving. It was deeply humiliating to have to do that, at the same time trying to hide himself with those inadequate garlands. His new contours wiggled and attracted eager hands, both female and male. He was horrified to have the men patting his backside and squeezing his tits, but when he turned his eyes to Davina for help she just giggled, reached out, and gave his incapacitated penis a pat. On top of all that, after everyone else had gotten their portion from 'Milly', there wasn't any left, so the made-over man had to go from person to person, while each of them put their plate between their feet for him to kneel in front of and lick clean. The final person to do so was one of the women who had worked on him, who he heard the others call Neeku. When he reached her she edged her plate back several times, until it was right under her womanhood. As he extended his tongue toward the bits of food still on it, she put one finger under his smooth chin and tilted his face up. He was looking right at her most womanly place. There was a moment of silence and then she placed her hand confidently on the back of his head. Neeku drew him closer until he was inhaling her feminine musk. Milton didn't want to do it, just as he had always been repulsed by the idea of treating his wife that way, but he had no choice. The feminized man extended his tongue and got his first taste. Neeku squeezed his neck and he began to lick steadily, making her sigh. She toyed with his ears, using the tribe's accupressure-like tricks, and his desire surged. Suddenly he was lapping her furiously, eager to bring her pleasure so that -- he thought irrationally -- she would do something similar for him. But no matter how well her performed, all she did was to enjoy one climax after another. When her third had exploded and then subsided, she at last allowed him to back up. His eyes turned upward and he saw Davina standing over him, smiling down. "Well, well," she said. "I'd take advantage of your new skills, but I have Umbatta to keep me happy. And he is a real expert in that department. Indefatigable. Takes care of his real wife and me, too. So I'll let you stay with the women so they can finish initiating you into your new role. Have a lovely evening, Milly. I know I will." He wanted to protest but another female was already taking Neeku's place. Unseen hands shoved Milton toward her, his round boobs juddering, until his face was mashed against her most intimate spot. As if by reflex he began using his tongue, hating it but unable to stop himself. He fought to gain control and just when he believed he might succeed, his new user played with his ears and sent him into a fresh cycle of stimulation and the need to satisfy whoever was using him. He sobbed but didn't stop what he was doing. His poor dick felt like it was being crushed. His balls throbbed with discomfort. When he was allowed to come up for air for a scant few seconds, he glimpsed his bride leaving with Umbatta... again. Over the following several days Milton became more fully integrated into his new life. He still worked alongside the women but now they felt free to 'borrow' him from his labors whenever they felt like it, for a quick climax or two. Even though he didn't understand their words he knew from their tone and laughter that they often joked about him and is plight. They loved to stroke his new curves and toy with his traditional erogenous zones, as well as those that their secret arts told them how to access. He was in a constant state of neediness, always hair-trigger ready to get his head between their thighs. They also found it amusing to have him fondle and kiss their long legs, as well as lavishing attention on their wide protruding bottoms, and very soon those two practices were also getting him wildly excited. He was addicted to serving them in the most demeaning ways. He used his mouth so much that they had to refresh the berry juice that colored his lips. They also used other natural colors to outline his eyes and tint the lids blue. At the same time, the men were taking special notice of him. Still in those unwanted heels, he minced among the huts, his bare skin, pink and hairless, on display, his hips swaying and those plump 'chest-warmers' wobbling invitingly. The men would call out 'milly-oooo' and then laugh at his always nervous reaction. Once while he was satisfying Neeku, one of the men came and planted his large foot in the middle of Milton's back, between his shoulderblades. The frightened kneeling husband wished that they would give him more to wear than just those inadequate garlands of flowers. Milton saw his wife conversing with some of the women. Davina tugged on her own earlobe and then pointed to her spouse. Whatever she said next made the females chortle and nod agreement. Within the hour Milton learned what she had suggested. A small batch of cooked herbs was made into a paste, which was applied to the bottoms of his ears. The women worked it in, at the same time tugging downward. After about an hour of that they put leaves over the sides of his head and wrapped them in place with lengths of slender vines. He had to go around for the rest of the day with that added indignity, also concerned about what it might be doing to him. At night, after serving Neeku and a few others, with added emphasis on their bottoms, being made to bury his face between their jutting buttocks, he was allowed to sleep, but with the leaves and vines still in place. The next morning his fears were confirmed. When the coverings were removed they guided his hands to first one ear and then the other, so he could feel that his lobes were now fat and pendulous. They made him sashay around, chuckling at how the ends of his ears moved -- just like the other features they had given him. He was seated on a smooth rock and primative tools were produced. As they prepared to use them he understood that they were about to pierce his ears. Milton hugged himself, making his breasts bulge up and threaten to pop free, bit his lower lip, and wordlessly shook his head. Neeku said something to one of the others, who took hold of his hair, which had been longish when he arrived and was now nearing collar length (except that he had no collar). Neeku worked on his ears with the tools, causing him pain but then using her fingertip magic to sooth it. She worked for a while and he felt weight being hung in his new piercings. When she was done they made him walk some more, so that he could feel the large metal hoops they had given him and how they swung. On the verge of tears, without thinking before he spoke, he turned toward Neeku and blurted out some angry words. They might not have know what he was saying, but his intent was obvious. The tall woman seized him and marched him to her hut. She stood him by the door and made it plain that he was not to move. Terrified, he froze and stayed that way. She emerged with her hands full of woven vine- cords. Getting behind him she tugged back his arms, which made his boobs thrust out. With expert movements she pulled his arms together and bound them, each one doubled up, and then their elbows joined by a brief length. She made a collar and fitted it around his neck, then tightened it. Next came a leash, joined to the collar pulled back between his legs, and tied to the arm bonds. Milton was forced to bend far forward, so that his boobs pointed downward and his bottom was uppermost, jutting out prominantly. Neeku got in front of him with a length of cane in her hand. She had a no-nonsense expression on her dusky features. Milton swallowed with difficulty. Other tribe members were gathering around to see what was about to occur. He took a tiny step forward on his high heels, not knowing where he could go, but then she grabbed the cords and held him where he was. Neeku brought up the cane and gave it a few test swings through the air. Despite the warmth of the day, Milton shivered. The cane-wielder stepped away from him to position herself at his side, and this time when she swung, it was not for practice. The cane swished downward and smacked against his unprotected butt. Milton howled in his high girly voice (which he now used automatically) and tottered forward on his heels, breasts rocking, bottom rolling. His tormentor delivered a second, third and fourth blow, marking his soft flesh and keeping him moving forward. The growing crowd cheered. That attracted more of the curious. Soon the entire tribe was watching him receive more stinging hits as he continued advancing and Neeku followed. He was forced around the perimeter of the huts three times before she decided that he had had enough. Then she stuffed some leaves into his mouth, right on his tongue, and made it plain that he was not allowed to spit them out. Dimly he was aware that he was now before the hut of Umbatta. From inside came a sleepy sated female voice. "What IS all that caterwaulering out there? Excuse me, Umbatta darling, while I take a peek." She said something in the local speech, possibly repeating herself to the man she now slept with. Milton heard the other wife giggle. As Davina appeared and saw her husband's uncomfortable and demeaning situation she laughed wickedly. "Oh dear, my dear. What sort of trouble have you gotten yourself into now?" Fighting back tears, he tried to tell her what had transpired, but the leaves had done something that prevented it. His tongue suddenly couldn't form words. She shook her head sympathetically but still wore a grin. "Well," she went on, "you really don't want to get these ladies angry. I did warn you. The men have been asking about your... shall we say... oral skills, and if the women praise you highly enough, well, I can't be responsible for what happens after that. But you'll be happy about one thing." He tried to ask what that was, still not able to make himself understood, and then sniffled. "I am getting more than enough material to write a paper. Especially in the area of sexual practices." As if on cue, Umbatta stepped out of the hut and put his arm around her waist, hand settling on her hip. He glanced down at Milton, who was even less able than usual to cover all those pink roundnesses. The dusky man said something to Davina and she referred him to the women who had been making so much use of her husband. Whatever they said to Umbatta made him speak to the other men, pointing several times toward the bent forward figure. The males all nodded and wouldn't stop staring at the object of their growing interest. "Like I said," Davina repeated, "I can't be responsible for what happens now." Milton was left in his awkward bondage while the women took him to the riverside. There was a new pile of their loinclothes to be washed. He had to pick each one up with his lips and offer it to them. They washed every one and hung them over branches to dry. The taste of their privates was strong in his mouth and his sexual desire was asserting itself once more... and being thwarted again by the wrappings on his penis. He moaned piteously. They laughed hissingly. Later, when they were back in the village, his arms were at last freed. He stood up with every muscle in his back protesting. His bottom still burned. One of the women offered him a stoneware jar with some sort of salve in it. She indicated that he should apply it to his bottom. As shameful as he found it to have to do that in public, he wanted relief more and so, with all the females watching and making soft-spoken comments to each other, he generously applied it and felt the pain abating. The men continued to eye him in ways he didn't appreciate. A few of them came to him and patted his salve-slippery bottom, letting their hands linger there while he squirmed with discomfort. Soon, they were accompanying that pawing with manipulation of his ears and other nerve junctures, causing him to become maddeningly aroused, except that now he was being made to associate pleasure -- albeit unconsumated -- with male contact. After a few days of that he found himself responding to their interest by striking suggestive poses, winking his tinted eyelids, and even licking his brightly colored lips. What was he doing? He didn't want to lead them on. Yet he couldn't control himself. Davina delighted in mentioning it and pointing out that he was 'just asking for it', as if he was a flirty female intent of driving men to take action. One of the women put his hair into a series of small braids that hung down around the sides and back of his head. That added feminizing touch drew more undesired male attention. At noon one day Neeku and two other females confronted Milton. He was again placed in bondage. This time his legs were bent and tied, so that he had to remain squatting. Then his arms were doubled up and bound, so that he could only flap them. While he was helpless, yet another batch of herbs was turned into paste but this time it was applied to his... lips. Some was even put onto his tongue. Leaves were arranged inside his mouth and over his lips, then held in place with a series of thin cords. A hollow reed was inserted for him to breath through. Neeku spoke to one of the women assisting her, who went into her own hut and returned bearing a woven basket full of bright feathers. The three who had bound Milton now gathered around him. By instinct he tried to flee, but all he could do was to waddle about, nearly naked, his flower garlands shifting around, mute and vulnerable. They used something sticky to apply feathers all over his body and then on his head. Davina appeared and was convulsed with laughter at the sight. She went back to the hut, got her cell phone and took a picture of him. When she showed Milton the screen he was appalled to see himself as a bizarre femme-bird with colorful plummage. Swats from a cane on his bottom got him moving again. They kept him at it until he was exhausted. He ended up in a dense patch of bramble bushes. A blindfold was put on him so that there was no way for him to find his way out of the improvised prison. He had to squat there all night. Occasionally, to ease his legs, he would move about, but inevitably had his big smooth bottom pricked, his hairless thighs stung, and once his unprotected breasts jabbed. His testicles, aching from disuse, also received their share of jabs. In the morning he was relieved to hear people approaching. Anything would be better than the night he had just spent. Except that when his eyes were uncovered, he found himself surrounded by tribesmen, with the accent on the last syllable. They sneered down at him, came near to run their strong hands all over him, and then led him safely out of the brambles and perhaps not so safely to a clear spot alongside a sandy- bottomed pond. He was untied and allowed to bathe, losing all those feathers in the process. The men made him paddle around while they admired his unmanly form. He had to float on his back with his boobs above the surface of the water. At last they signaled for him to join them. They finally removed the covering from his mouth. When he reached up to check, his nightmare dread was verified. He could feel that his lips had swollen to more than double their former dimensions. Also, his tongue had been affected and when he tried to ask the Fates 'Why me?' it was even worse than after the first contact with the leaves and he couldn't even say those two words. As he stood to one side, with a single male next to him, a hand on Milton's shoulder, the others sat in a tight ring and began to play a game involving black and white stones. As they continued, judging from the looks Milton got from whoever won each round and therefore stayed in the game, it became obvious what the ultimate winner would get as his prize. The guy alongside Milton let his fingers wander, making his charge quiver with distaste but also, when those nerve point techniques were used, with pleasure. How could this be happening? How could he, a respectable married man, have been reduced to an almost naked, smooth- skinned, piece of property with bulging female contours? How could he have been turned into a lowly sex toy -- oral sex toy -- for a gaggle of horny tribeswomen. And how could he -- Milton -- Davina's husband -- be about to serve as the reward for one of the natives who happened to win a primative game? Those rhetorical questions became secondary as the final round ended and one of the males, Rambone by name, came and took him by the upper arm to lead him away. He kept repeating 'milly-ooo' but then expanded it to 'milly-ooo-AH'. That must have some added meaning and Milton was afraid that he knew what it was, especially as they travelled deeper into the jungle and the 'ooo-AH' portion was all that was spoken, with a rhythm that suggested just what it was about. In desperation Milton tried to plead but with his enlarged lips and thickened tongue he couldn't even do that, useless though it would probably have been anyway. Rambone stopped, spun Milton around, and ran his eyes up and down that feminized figure. He reached under the garland of flowers to diddle Milton's nipples and make them stiffen. Then he put his dark hands on the quivering man's shoulders and applied gentle but inexorable downward pressure, making his 'prize' sink to his knees. Rambone stepped closer, lifted the beaded loincloth he had donned for this very special event, and laid it on top of Milton's head. The kneeling man's eyes went wide. That large hand moved to the back of his head and coaxed his face forward. When Rambone fingered Milton's ears, the captive's mouth popped open as if it was spring-loaded. Another finger move and his tongue slid out to find its target, which began to grow. This was the last thing that Milton wanted to happen but he couldn't prevent it. His conditioning had gone on too long, and now it was plain that only a minimal effort was required to shift the results from pleasing women to pleasing men. Rambone let him adjust to the daunting task somewhat. Then he took a small leather pouch that hung around his neck and opened it, pouring its powdered contents onto his palm. He held it under Milton's nose and made a loud sniffing sound. Milton inhaled sharply through his nostrils and took in all of the powder. A mild euphoria took hold of him. Rambone sank himself deeper in and Milton discovered that, along with relaxing him, the powder had eliminated his gag reflex. He was able to swallow and deep-throat the man with the ease of a practiced big-city hooker. Rambone had not only enviable penis dimensions, but also impressive staying power. He used Milton. Educated him, too. Milton learned how to enhance, prolong, and vary the big man's experience in more ways than he could consciously remember, although he had a sickening feeling that they were all now programmed into his mind and would be available spontaneously whenever called for. And he had an even more disturbing feeling that they would be called for often. Just as the women had shared him whenever they felt the need, he suspected the men would too. He worked his enlarged lips and swollen tongue all over the subject of his unwilling fixation. All he could think about was making Rambone happy. Giving him a memorable time. Making him -- NO, NO, NO -- want more of the same. His efforts paid off after what seemed like an hour, when that long tool was backed out until only the head was inserted, Rambone gripped both sides of Milton's head, and with a series of short hard jerks, the tall man made himself spurt prodigeously. Milly-ooo-AH, indeed. Milton was hugely relieved when his ordeal was at last ended. Except that, moments later, all of the other men appeared and lined up for thier turn with 'Milly'. It became clean that everyone who had played that game with black and white stones would get a chance, along with even the one who had stood alongside Milton. They simply had to wait, according to how well they had competed in the game. The feminized kneeling man moaned piteously. By reflex he tried to plead his case, but his powers of speech were still unavailable to him. Knowing fingers manipulated his ears and his mouth popped open on cue, his tongue ran over his plumped-up lips, and he let out a purr of invitation. It was a long afternoon for the once self-respecting, somewhat snobbish, sexually conservative man. That evening, accompanied by Umbatta and his first wife, Rina by name, Davina spied her spouse returning to the village on wobbly legs, his walk still made feminine by those heels, his garlands with many less petals on them. Milton's enlarged up lips opened and closed slowly, his swollen tongue occasionally protruding and then retreating. His sleek pink body jiggled in all the right places as he took a final few steps toward her. The shaken man stopped and looked at his wife, who appeared to have recently had a very satisfying encounter herself. Umbatta ran a hand down one side of her while Rina did the same on the other side. "I have some exciting news for you, Milly," Davina said with a smile. "My research is finally done, at least for now, and soon it will be time to say goodbye to Zamobia." She glanced at each of her companions in turn. "And my new friends." He tried to say something, but it was incomprehensible. His wife looked at him tolerantly. She said, "What's that? You want to know if you can have your poor penis freed?" All he had been trying to ask was how soon they would depart. But he was thrilled to hear that he might at last be able to gain some relief from his involuntary chastity. Milton nodded vigorously. "The women will be unwrapping your manhood tomorrow evening. It will be quite an occasion, I promise you." Too excited to think about what that might include, he nodded again, making his tits quiver. Someone -- he didn't know if it was male or female -- reached around from behind to give them a squeeze. He instantly shoved his bottom backward and gave it a wriggle. And knew that those hands belonged to a man. Possibly Rambone, from the feel of what pressed against his buttocks. But whoever it was relented and Milton heaved a sigh of relief. He didn't want his sexual servitude to go any further, especially now that a departure had been announced. Already he pictured those primative natives reversing the changes they had made to his body -- and mind -- as well as giving him back his civilized clothing. The next day was difficult for him. The men paid special attention, calling out 'Milly-ooo' and engaging in mock pursuits of him, getting close enough to grab his ass but then allowing him to scurry away, his hips swishing from the heels, boobs and butt jouncing, garlands in disarray. At last it was evening and torches were lit. The tribe members all wore their ceremonial loinclothes. Even Davina had one, whose patterns matched those on Umbatta and Rina's. It was one more insult to his masculinity, to have his bride's relationship to another man so blatantly demonstrated, but he bore up under it, reminding himself that his deliverance was at hand. Neeku suspended a pot full of water over a fire and added twisted roots to it to cook for an hour. The time stretched out for Milton. The closer he got to his release the more he was aware of every hungry gaze and roving hand that was directed toward him. Finally the time came. He had to stand near the pot, feet well apart, while cold water was added to the mix to make it safe to apply. All he could think about was how being freed from those confining leaves on his crotch would be the first (and most signifcant) step to regaining his manhood. He fidgeted as he waited, but then noticed that his constant moving, the twitching of his bottom and shifting of his breasts, was drawing unwanted attention. Finally Neeku declared that it was time. She began to use a wad of dried fungus like a sponge, soaking up the water and then squeezing it out onto his groin. Milton felt the leaves softening, loosening. He almost sobbed with joy. Then the native woman's nimble fingers went to work, unpeeling him from that long confinement. She stripped away the last of the plant matter and he looked down at his crotch, still devoid of hair, and his liberated penis. What he saw made his joy vanish. His member was still the same size it had been while it was imprisoned. Several of the onlookers chuckled at his shocked reaction. Someone toyed with his ear, triggering those effective pressure points. His member tingled. It felt like it was growing. There was a very slight visible increase in thickness and maybe even length, but it wasw insignificant. Davina squatted down directly in front of him and ran her fingertips lightly over his shrunken dick. It felt wonderful but there was no further growth. He did sob but it wasn't from joy. "Oh, dear," she said with feigned concern. "Those naughty natives seem to have played a trick on us, Milly." She stroked his satiny thigh. "They've reduced your cock to this silly little nubbin. Now you'll never qualify as a sex partner for me... or any woman. Poor baby." She said something to Neeku and listened intently to the reply. To Milton she explained, "And it turns out that those other changes they made aren't exactly reversible. I mean, they could do it but there are all sorts of side issues. Like you not qualifying as a man in the first place." He made some sad and desperate noises. His wife appeared to be suppressing a laugh. She went on, "It's not all bad, Milly. I can still take you with me. Of course, you'd be quite a freak back in the states, now wouldn't you? And I'm afraid you might find yourself vicitmized by, you know, perverted sexual predators. I couldn't protect you 24 hours a day. Especially not with how busy I'm going to be, working on my paper and giving talks and travelling. Unless you wanted to go with me as an... exhibit. So it might be best for you to stay here where you're appreciated." The thought of going home, once his greatest desire, was now fraught with terror. He imagined himself put on display, like a freak in a sideshow. Of course, there would be a veneer of scientific presentation, but he knew he would be seen by everyone as a bizarre creature. They might even think that he had WANTED this transformation. And his wife had put the idea into his head of being used by those whose tastes ran to the outre. At least here in the rain forrest he was among only a limited number of natives, and there was no mass media to spread his shameful image and story. "So," Davina said, sounding more sympathetic than he suspected she really was. "What's it going to be, Milly girl? Go home and be an internet star in the least desirable way possible? Or stay here and be protected from the eyes of the world, if not from the hands and... other parts... of these darling people? I mean, at least until I can come up with some other solution." Her hint that she might be able to do more to help him later was what made his decision. He didn't want to stay in this feminized condition, humiliatingly exposed, a virtual sex slave to an entire tribe. But the alternative was even worse. He looked at her and, forgetting again his lack of communication skills, mouthed some mournful sounds that signalled his acceptance of his current fate. "Terrific," she said, not sounding at all bothered that they would be seperated. "I'm sure it'll be for the best. And you know, Milly, I'd really like to spend my last night here with you. But I owe Umbatta so much for all of his help and... personal attention. I'm sure you understand." She wound one of his braids around her forefinger and gave it a playful tug. "But you won't be alone. I'll make sure you have company." She spoke to several of the men, who all showed interest in whatever she was saying. Then she went into Umbatta's hut with the big man and his wife. Almost at once Milton heard laughter, followed by moans of arousal, from the interior. The men she had talked to crowded around him. Powerful hands gripped his arms. Other hands pawed his curves. He was walked away into the shadows. When they reached a clearing he dropped to his knees and opened his mouth, all by conditioned reflexes. His need to satisfy others was taking over. But they wanted something more this time. He was eased forward with his chin on the ground and his butt in the air. One of the men, Rambone, knelt behind him in the moonlight and took hold of his hips. Someone else liberally applied a fruity smelling lubricant between his bottom cheeks. Maybe returning to civilization would have been the better choice. He tried to call out to his wife but could only make fretful bleating noises. Abruptly, those sounds were replaced by high-pitched squeals. After a moment those vocalizations settled down to rhythmic grunts that were soon joined by urgent cries that might have been wordless pleas for satisfaction that wouldn't and couldn't come. The next morning, as she prepared to depart, Davina encountered her husband being half-walked, half-carried back from his night of initiaition. He made himself straighten up and keep advancing. The heels still gave him a wiggle in his gait. He pulled back his shoulders to try to make his walk of shame look less like what it was, but the effort only thrust out his tits, which refused to stay still. His naked wife put herself toe-to-toe with him. "I'm sure you'll be content here, Milly," she said with easy assurance. "And don't worry about me. I intend to get back in touch with Prof. Williams. You remember him. Tall. Handsome. He was always flirting with me at symposiums. I'm sure he'll keep me from feeling all alone... at night. You just worry about keeping your new friends happy. After all, if they think you're stinting in your efforts to satisfy everyone -- and I do mean everyone -- they can still do more to you with their herbs and potions and those clever ways of affecting your libido. I'm afraid I let slip that one thought I had, about how they might give you a set of udders like a cow's. Super boobs. I even made the mistake of pointing out to the guys how good it feel for them to have their cocks between a pair of knockers like that and how the ends of their shafts would fit into your oh-so-accomodating mouth at the same time. So..." Davina snickered at the expression of horror that seized his features. She knew he wouldn't be able to get that picture of himself with massive mammaries out of his mind. And that Umbatta might just push for the tribe to give him a pair like that. Umbatta was unahappy that Milton had been a poor husband for Davina, and felt that no punishment was to awful or shameful for him. As the female anthropologist strode away, her shapely bottom wagging before her husband's eyes, he couldn't stop staring. He saw her once more before she started her trip home. This time, though he still wore only those meager garlands, she was fully dressed in the outfit in which she had arrived, not that long ago but a period that seemed to Milton like a lifetime. And yet, he now had a new life ahead of him, and plenty of time to experience it. He thought about that as she merrily told him, "Goodbye, Milly. Think about me often. I know I'll be thinking about you." ********* (This one is for C.C., from his basic outline, with lots of nasty details added by me.)