5 comments/ 80643 views/ 6 favorites Vacation in the Brazilian Jungle By: cowboy109 BRAZIL - HERE I COME! Donald stepped into the Boeing 787 Dreamliner. The welcome space was lavishly spacious and unusually tall for an airplane. Getting squeezed out of the compressed terminal walkway was freeing. The feeling of starting out on a great summer vacation to Brazil really sunk into his mind. The stewardess in the blue suit and the pearl earrings smiled. With the next shuffle step, he was right back into the squeeze of passengers backing up in front and passengers inching forward. The packed space made it a close family experience. Donald felt like his nose poked his parents and his sister Leslie in front of him. Their bodies took up extra space with the coats over one arm and the large carry on pushed like a shield in the other. There was way too much clothing, hair, and knickknacks in his face. Magazines, bottles, iPods, glasses were shuffled form one hand to the next, into and out of bags, and onto trays. The mood lighting that cycled through the artificial colors of the airline's logo anchored the whole mess in. Getting into the seat didn't improve things. Leslie claimed the armrest first with her elbow. Victorious smiles escaped her placed face. She arranged the celebrity magazine and iPod with the arm belonging to the other elbow. He grumpily looked at the window three seats away. The oversized windows with the dimming glass were supposed to be the highlight of the new Boeing 787 Dreamliner. Yep, the window was a tiny speck hidden behind bodies and seats. His mind wandered to imagine what he would tell his class on the first day after school about his first trip to Brazil. Nope, there wouldn't be any class anymore. He had graduated high school a month ago. He was a young man poised to study math, because he always got A's in math without studying. His pants were gray Ted Baker slacks with a cut that accentuated his slender tall body. Last moment in the morning, he had decided that pink would be a bit dashing and unconventional to wear for a shirt on the travel day. His hair was long and wavy. His face was tall and highlighted by dark eye brows and dark shadows. Yet, his baby blue eyes gleamed with a sparkle, when the light shown right. His sister next to him was leaning over the tray to flip through her magazine. Her mouth made oh's of exasperation every now and then. The lip stick was pink and the most boring and conservative hue in her whole class. One of her feet was resting up on the seat, so that she could put her upper arm on the knee tip. The hand held her forehead and hair bag. The hair was too puffy and of a seriously annoying natural blond. The first thing that he would do with her hair would be to thin it and color it with a blond from an upscale hair salon. Though, that was not his decision. He would also burn her wardrobe. The pants and sweatshirt made his sister look big and clumsy, rather then take advantage of her height to make her a tall model like being. The pants were one big cut that did not provide highlights or re-shape her hips in anything that called out sexy. There she went again making facial expressions to herself that demanded a response from everyone else. "What is your favorite part about Brazil," said Donald trying to make friendly conversation. "Oh, I can't wait to meet the Latin lovers. All the gentlemen will open the door for me. And, they will gently hold my hand, while they take a bow. Their eyes will have such deep passion, when they see me walking down the street." "Snap out of it, Leslie. With all those hot Latinas in thong bikinis, they won't even notice you in your grand mother clothes. You did bring at least swimwear, did you? This is Brazil with beaches and parties!" "Uh, you are so rude again." She rolled up her magazine and hit him on the thigh. Her face looked tense. He threw his arms up to rest them behind his neck. His sister had returned from her freshman year in college. And, she hadn't grown any easier, worldly, or sophisticated. Then, she walked off to look for the seats, where their parents were seated. His elbow claimed the arm rest. The rest of the travel went back into a blur. Mind numbing waiting in the airline chair made him want to stand on his head. However, the head space was not near enough to actually attempt such a thing. There was the physical relief of walking to the bathroom every two hours. That also brought the mental relief of scanning the passenger for the one or two cute girls in the crowd of middle aged people. The São Paulo-Guarulhos airport was like most airports. Multilingual signs for baggage claim and taxi. A mix of people from all countries dressed in fine clothes. There was the conspicuous absence of really poor and rich people. The palm trees and fluffy air flow suggested a warm country. The people lacked what the Brazilian fantasy had promised. They were mostly dressed conservatively in single colored pants and shirts. The exuberantly sexy and shiny people were the minority to be gleaned in the steadily moving crowd. The taxi was full of foreign signs. Yet, otherwise the taxi delivered the family to the hotel without infamous cussing, speeding, or throngs of impoverished kids running behind the car. The hotel had plenty of the same fake gold ornaments and soiled carpet as the hotels in America. Like with all hotels, he loved the clean, smooth bed sheets and the meticulously cleaned bathroom. The clean bathroom made him want to roll around in it. Obviously, his own bathroom at home had an unspoken and denied cleaning problem. He looked over at his sister. Her hands were busily messing with her suit case and the closet. Her feet shuffled in house slippers. He looked at his own bare feet, the shirt tossed over a chair, and the undershirt that he was wearing. "Sis, we are only in Sao Paolo for one day. There is no sense in unpacking. You will only have to pack again. And, guess who gets to sit on your suit case to make everything fit?" "First, having everything neatly in the closet makes me feel at home. Second, you will be the one that walks around in wrinkled clothes. And, all the girls will turn their noses up, because Latin men know how to take care of their gentleman wardrobe." "Whatever you say, sis." The cool part about family vacations is that they are free. An international trip like this would have taken him many pizza deliveries. The bad part about family vacations is that, even they were both over eighteen, they still got to share the same room. Their parents were partially in denial about their kids growing up and partially reluctant to spend double the money on the kids. With all the college expenses, neither of the kids dared to challenge the wisdom. Leslie went to the bathroom. She reappeared in knee length draw string pajamas. The fabric was stiff, tube-like with a faded pink. The pajama top had lace decoration in the front. Half circles of white lace tried to make the pajama look special, yet only managed to remind of a bored worker yelling at his boss "here are your damn boring laces. Let me have fun designing clothes for once." Donald simply tossed the pants over the chair as well and slipped under the sheets in his underwear. They turned the lights off. He closed his eyes. The images of the travel flashed in front of his eyes. His mind remembered the look of the airport and acknowledged that he was present in Brazil. Sometimes, the body travels faster than the mind. And, the mind has to consciously catch up. His mind remembered the blond cheerleader type girl in the airport security screening line. She had worn a pink and white checkered mini skirt with a black belt. Her attitude was so perky. She placed her items on the conveyor into the x-ray machine with a bounce. Her arms moved fluid and were unafraid to raise high to draw attention. The hair was freshly colored near platinum blond. Two pig tails pulled the hair to each side. The hair formed straight and smooth lines. Her full lips were chewing on bubble gum. "You are ruining my pedicure," had she said with a flirtatious smile to the security officer, when she slipped of her high heels. The high heels were cork wedges that were only held by her toes like flip flops. Her skirt had ruffled, when she had bent over to pick up her shoes. The security guard had smiled and looked, while remaining motionless to feel safe. Those feet had beautiful arches. The nails had a bright green apple polish with a wet looking gloss. He imagined her bare soles rubbing against his hard penis. He imagined the smooth and moist skin pulling his penis skin as he shoved the feet down. He imagined the small pain and the immense horniness from having her feet on his hard erection. He turned over in his bed, so that he could feel the pressure of the mattress against his penis. He imagined looking in her face. She'd give him a wink back with her eyes to tell him that he should go ahead using her feet for his erotic pleasure. She'd sit with her legs bent and on her elbows looking up at him. He'd unbutton her blouse one more button to see her full cleavage, those health, happy, wholesome boobs lifted by an underwire bra. In the hotel bed, he moved his hips up and down against the mattress. His body weight was pressing down. The smooth sheets gliding along his penis skin felt wonderful. He pressed his lungs to breathe quietly to not alert his sister. He carefully listened to the sound of the sheets moving with his hip pushing to minimize the noise. Oh, it felt so good. He had to secretly feel that brush against the sheets again. Next thing, he was moving onto his knees and then all the way flat to get larger strokes out of his mattress. His mind was focusing on one toe at a time of that cheerleader. Those round chubby little love bumps. He imagined the taste of her freshly washed feet with a couple hours of perspiration. How sweet would the smell. His raging horniness made him forget about his sister in the bed next to him. He full on placed his penis on the sheets at the bottom of the bed. Then, he pulled himself to the top of the bed, while trying to balance his whole wait on his penis. It was kind of like sledding on his penis. And, then the throbbing started. And, his whole body tensed and raised up into the air to increase the weight on his penis. The spurts of cum pulsed into his underwear. The cum soaked through into the clean hotel sheets. No matter how he tried to constrict his breath, he could hear his breath and heart like the thunder of the steaming railroad train. He recovered silently and motionless under the sheet. He puzzled to himself how his sister could not have noticed him. His sister was probably mortified and tried to ignore the episode. He easily fell asleep in post coital dreams. SIZZLING HOT POOL SIDE TIME OR NOT? "But, dad you promised that we would spend one day in the city." "Donald, I am tired. I have jetlag. Let me rest at the pool. Tomorrow, we are going on our jungle exploration. Aren't you excited about seeing the jungle plants and the exotic animals?" "Dad, I want the beach, the girls, and the party." "Why don't you put some sunscreen on your sister? That way, you get at least one girl." "Ugh, dad. I don't want Donald touching me. The Latin man will run at the chance to help a lady." Leslie looked at a young man with black pants and a Hawaiian shirt. "Boy, would you please put some sunscreen on my back." "Miss, I can bring you drinks. If you don't have sunscreen, I could bring you a tube and charge it to your room. Though, I do not touch the customers." The waiter left. "But, didn't he flirt with that girl over there and put sunscreen on her back?" exclaimed Leslie. "Leslie, that girl has a super hot body in a skimpy black bikini with the back strap undone. And, she does not sit with her parents," added Donald. "Ha! A real gentleman does not want to see everything. A real gentleman eschews slutty behavior like that." "Dad, I want to pick up that chick. How do I do it? You got mom. You gotta tell me how to do it." "Well, son, you head on over there. You say, 'My name is Donald. How are you this lovely day.' Or, ask her where she is from. That's always a safe question with travelers." "Dad that is so lame. She is super cool. She needs to be approached super cool." "Son, you should at least give it a try." "Okay, dad. I want to give it a try. But, I am frozen. My legs don't want to move over there. How do I make them move?" Mom got up. Mom was wearing her red racer one piece swimsuit with the golden buckle. Her hair was a pile of dirty blond rolls. She walked straight over to the girl in the black bikini resting on her belly. Her unexercised body clearly showed from behind. She talked to the girl for a minute and then turned back to the family. Donald's head was fire red. His body felt very uncomfortable. "Mom, you embarrassed me in front of that girl. Now, I can never approach her anymore." "Oh, she said that she would have loved to talk to her. But, her boyfriend is very jealous," reported ma. "Well, there you have it, son," added dad. Dad's head went down onto the travel papers. He was sitting on the lounge chair with his legs spread wide over both sides. He had a large trunk and dominated the vicinity with his potbelly and chest hair. He looked strong, because his arms and legs were full from his years with the army. He announced to the group, "That highway that we are taking to the jungle resort cuts straight through virgin forest. A big development company has only recently completed the highway. There are still original people in the jungle, who oppose the highway bitterly. However, they have neither guns nor rhetoric to influence the permit process. They are these untouched natives running around half naked. Well the pictures show them mostly naked." "They did create a lot of delays with the construction crews though. They use blow darts rubbed on poison frogs to ambush work crews. The Golden Poison Frog's poison is so lethal that one gram of it could kill 15,000 people. Wait, that means a ton of the poison could wipe out the entire population. Ha, many chickens and dogs have died from getting in contact with a piece of paper that the frog has walked over. Amazing, aren't you all excited to explore this world?" "Honey, I am not one of your army buddies. I don't want to see any frogs at all. I want to see pretty flowers," rejoined mom. "And, I want to get laid by a real Brazilian, but we will be stuck in the boondocks." "Children, come on, this may be our last family vacation together. You are all so grown up." RUMBLING BUS ACROSS THE JUNGLE HIGHWAY The next morning, a gleaming, spanking new long distance bus gently hummed out of Sao Paolo with the family. The bus was comfortably air conditioned. The upholstery was firm and had a gentle factory smell. The bus's suspension glided easily under the steady hand of the driver. The large windows let the landscape pass by. Mom and dad were in each other's arms relieving romantic moments of the past. Both kids were enthralled watching the passing city. The buildings turned into pastures and forests. The journey turned really interesting, when the tires hit the white gravel road. Tiny pebbles were perfectly evenly graded with little excess piles on the side of the highway. This was the celebrated Trans Francisco Continental Highway. Large construction vehicles occasionally lined the road. One was a two lane wide earth mover. Everything about the vehicle was giant, the claws, the tires, the two story high tower on top of it, except of the cockpit. The single driver cockpit was a small box stuck on top of the giant yellow monster vehicle. Most trucks were like that as well. Enormous trucks that could carry a little hill had only a little black cockpit on the left side. There were no buildings along the road. As a matter of fact, there was not much variation at all. The jungle was simply a green wall of large leaves that reached high into the sky. Even though the biodiversity is praised, from the road, it looked like a straight forward green wall with little variation. The passengers of the deluxe pass were a mix of eco tourists and locals on their way to remove villages and work places. All of them were subdued and enthralled to watch the landscape outside. Only, the assistant driver with a large black mustache felt pep in his body. Every half hour or so, he'd get on the microphone to name a site that we passed. His voice and gestures had the excitement of a soccer announcer. Maybe, he was practicing for a career switch. The outside air was humid and hot. The inside air was dry and cool. The air was rich of oxygen from all the trees around. The Amazon is the lung of the world. There was a small bathroom in the bus with its own exhaust and air perfume. The seats were spacious. It was very comfortable to live in the bus for a day. Donald listened to mellow music that he had downloaded before the trip. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see a row of broken branches stuck in the road. It was a tight line of sticks across the road. One sharp end was in the gravel. The other end was in the air. A second later, the bus swerved and slid sideways. Tight silence and tension in the air permeated as everyone clutched onto something and braised themselves for a crash or rollover. It didn't happen. The bus came to a stop sideways on the highway. The highway was still wider than the bus. No other cars were around on the endless stretch of highway. The bus driver and his assistant were the first to yell. They attempted counting the number of spare tires and the distance to the next emergency stop. The familiar Portuguese arguing set the passengers at ease. The passengers started rearranging their items and discuss the situation. You'd wish that there were chickens flying around in a rickety bus. However, it was simply a travel inconvenience like getting a flat anywhere else. Donald braised himself for hours of sitting around for the Brazilian triple-A to show up. Then, people started shouting. Everyone rushed to the left window. A band of seven brown indigenous people appeared out of the jungle. They were dressed just like in National Geographic. They had skimpy grass skirts. They had giant lips skewered with wooden skewers. They had red lines, circles, and stars painted with white wavy lines. They carried blow dart pipes. Those pipes were about three foot long. Their skin was amazingly brown reddish and leather like. They walked barefoot. The skin in their faces was distorted from pulling and partially surgical procedures with primitive instruments. "No problem. Please, remain calm. They only want Cola. They don't want money. They don't understand money. We just give them a few bottles of cola and they will move on." The bus assistant hurried out of the door into the humid hid cradling five or six bottles of cola in his arms. He placed the bottles of coke carefully on the ground, stepped back, and generously waved the indigenous to pick up the bottles. With the satisfied smile of a hero, he stood back to let the band come closer and inspect the bottles. The indigenous did not care for the cola bottle. The assistant bus drivers face collapsed with fear. The band of warriors waved the passengers to come out. They yelled "lumabas -- lumabas." The passengers looked large and clumsy next to the fast moving and agile warrior band. The indigenous people were quite short with 4-5 feet height. Their bodies were trim from roaming the jungle all day. The passengers had large corn fed bodies. "Those poison darts are very deadly. Let's all get out of the bus and do what they ask," called the driver assistant the renewed poise of a cheerleader. He helped the elderly women step down the stairs onto the gravel highway. Vacation in the Brazilian Jungle The leader of the band had white paint circled around his eyes. His ears were adorned by large wooden rings. His face seemed tense. Beneath the makeup and body modification, he had deep furrows from worrying about his band. He yelled with the shrill voice of his small body and with his tiny lungs heaving: "hiwalay na kasarian." None of the passengers understood him. Though, by his pointing, a clear pattern emerged. He was separating the men and the women. The people complied. Only a transgendered hipster from Sao Paolo confused the leader for a while, until he decided the hipster was female, because of the long hair. Then, the indigenous leader pulled one of the sticks out of the ground. It was one of the sticks that had slashed all the tires of the bus. He drew a long line across the gravel. Then, he had all the male passengers line up. The male passengers were clearly uncomfortable with the whole deal. However, standing at line seemed easy enough. One of the natives had moved down the road about five hundred yards. He drew a similar line across the gravel highway. "PUMUNTA! PUMUNTA! PUMUNTA!" yelled all the natives with intensity. Their bodies jumped into the air. The gravel made sounds under their jumping feet. The passengers were confused. The natives' intensity of yelling became scary. A few passengers started stepping forward. Everyone followed them. Some started jogging, as if they had a free pass to make it to safety. Not satisfied, one of the natives raised the blow dart pipe. With a sharp pop, he shot a dart at a fifty year old gray man of large proportions. The man screamed with instant agony. He started limping in panic forward. Everyone started running like a heard of panicked mustangs. Donald's adrenaline started pumping once he was in motion. His legs grew shaky. His body feverously wanted to push forward. His mind remembered scenes of adventure movies, where people were given a free pass. He thought about turning back to protect his sister and mother for a moment. Then, he considered that being safe was a better position to protect them than being dad. He ran. He ran hard. His limbs were flying. His body's dopamine was pumping through his brain, telling him that he did the right thing. He started feeling relaxed about his lungs pushing in and out and his cheeks flubbing each time a foot hit the ground. And, then he separated ahead of the crowd of men. He was the only eighteen year old. And, at the finish line, the indigenous waited for him. The indigenous carefully side stepped to anticipate Donald running on. The indigenous' hand carefully held a rope loop made from a vine. And, faster than a blink of an eye, the indigenous had thrown the loop, pulled the noose tight, and apprehended Donald with a noose round his neck. Donald was dazed. His running stupor had given way to a situation, where he had to think. He couldn't come up with a good plan. So, he followed the indigenous like a pet. Donald's father was furious with a red face. His body was the personification of a charging bull. The driver assistant's little body stemmed against him: "That is very foolish. Be diplomatic and we all live." Donald's father kind of gave in remembering the poison darts and his army training that only a fool rushes forward. The indigenous band collected around Donald. They pushed his muscles with pointy thumbs and fingers. Their handling was very rough from climbing trees and catching jaguars. Donald, the white young man, stood in between them like a tall tree among short reddish brown people. Then, they walked him into the forest. His mother cried out to him. His father was cursing heaven and hell. His sister exclaimed, "What was that about?" INDIGENOUS HOSTAGE SITUATION Entering through the green wall off the highway was like entering a room. Inside the jungle was a vast void. All the large green leaves high up in the trees caught all the sunlight. Inside of the forest on the ground, there were barely any leaves or plants at all, only dark brown tree limbs and roots everywhere. The indigenous band walked single file with him in the middle. Their bodies lacked the rich large muscles of modern day athletes that work out with weights and eat protein shakes. Yet, their compact muscles promised nothing short of being able to strangle a jaguar barehanded. Donald realized that he was outnumber and outmuscled. His only choice would be to bid his time for an opportune moment. It may take him hours or days to get the chance to run away. From reading Wikipedia, he knew that he had to be careful about the Stockholm Syndrome. Hostages often after a day or two lose the impulse to run away. They will stay with their captors even with the chains unlocked. Donald would not let this happen. The band walked him at a steady pace. He carefully touched his throat briefly. When nobody reacted, he scratched his neck. Finally, he dared to feel the wine around his neck. It felt young, flexible, and strong. He imagined that it was probably as good as plastic handcuffs. He would not be able to rip it off with his bare hands. That's why they hadn't bothered to tie his hands. After a few minutes, no idea how long precisely with all the adrenaline, the band stopped. They tied him to a young tree. The tree log wasn't round more like a very flattened round. The captors took off their grass skirts. Completely naked, they tied a thin vine around their bellies and used that to attach their penis to it. That way the penis pointed up and did not flop around. Their bodies were sweaty and shiny. Their thighs had large squares painted on them. One of them had short almost stubby hair on his head. Another had hair like a mushroom. A third wore feathers on his head. Except for the leader, they had a broad and warm smile. Once they were in the nude again, they seemed a lot more relaxed. One even jokingly punched another on the arm. Donald fingered the iPhone out of his pant pocket. He turned away partway to hide the prized high tech. He turned on the GPS application. He tried to memorize the GPS coordinate. Then, he turned off the iPhone to conserve the battery. The captors led the way further into the jungle. Donald's brain repeated the GPS coordinate numbers over and over until he wasn't sure anymore what he was saying. So, he kept looking at the naked brown butt cheeks in front of them and as they winked alternating with each step. The smell in the air was that of very fresh air due to the oxygen. And, at the same time, foreign scents wafted into his nose every now and then. Overall, there was no distinguishable trail or landmark in the ocean of tree logs under the thick canopy high up on the air. The spotted a few monkeys every now and then. Invisible birds called sometimes with chirps and sometimes with deep booming tones. A little dirt mound appeared. The leader stopped and got on his knees. After pushing his arms into the dirt mound, his hands reappeared with a sack that used to be white. It had red English print on it. The leader pulled a bag of grain out of it. One of them made a fire in the wet dirt. Two others went from trunk to trunk to gather water. Water was gathered, where trees branched. Some branches were cut to get water out. The leader carefully looked at Donald. The leader would pull Donald's cheeks and probe Donald's stomach fat. Then, the leader showed his muscles and said "mo." Eventually, Donald flexed his bicep. The leader smiled wide and clapped his hands against his chest. Encouraged, Donald flexed his other bicep. The leader said enthusiastically "mabuti." Now, Donald contracted his abdominal muscles and raised his shirt. The leader got excited like a little kid. Donald went on to do pushups and air jumps. The other indigenous gathered around him and encouraged him to do more. Out of exuberance, Donald jumped to grab a branch with his hands like a monkey. His soft skin got scratched by the branch. He let go and fell down. Humbled, Donald smiled apologetically and said while spacing out each word: "I am not as good at that stuff as you are." The natives seemed to understand. They shoved freshly cooked grains into his hands and encouraged him to eat. He understood it to mean that they had pity with his urban fitness level and thought that food would fix it. With food in his stomach, Donald blurted out without thinking: "Very nice body paint." And, he pointed at one of the man's white spirals on the chest. The man looked confused. Donald's face suggested for the man to wait. Then, he lifted his shirt sleeve to show his spider tattoo on his shoulder. It was done at a highend tattoo parlor with the precision and brilliance of a Leonardo da Vinci painting. Nothing unlike the crude indigenous painting. The native sing-grunted with approval. Everyone was sitting on the bare ground, when a little wind kicked up. The wind signaled the temperature change that happens dawn. The leader pointed with his fingers for Donald to lie down. Night came instantly. The dark jungle forest floor was now pitch black. Under his body, Donald could feel the moist dirt ground. His clothes would be stained with brown, when he would get up. It felt very grounded and rooted to lie in the dirt. Insects crawling on his skin woke him up all night. He could feel the uneven surface of his body denting the soil, especially where his bones poked at the skin. The heavy oxygen in the air, the exhaustion, the long day, Donald slept deeply, until sunrise and insects crawling on his skin, under his pants, and in his hair woke him up. His bladder was full and he peed. He did not feel bad about being seen peeing. Not only was he a guy, but the natives were already naked. The natives were squatting spaced out on the forest floor. It was like they were trying to sense something. Where they looking to meet someone? Where they checking for dangerous animals? Only in the silence of their focused listening and looking did Donald notice the little things around him. He could spot a frog perfectly colored the texture of the tree right next to his hand. A weird bug with a big black body was crawling along the floor at a slow pace. Two monkeys were camouflaged high in a tree and watching the humans below. The place felt blissful despite the situation. The leader roused the band to move on. Donald was again placed in the middle. They marched through the endless landscape of tree logs, branches, and roots. Donald finally was able to notice the difference in trees. Some were darker. Some were brighter. Some had specific shapes. Another green walk appeared like at the highway. Beyond it was a dark green murky river with ripples across the surface. The second indigenous in the line slowly turned side to side with his blow dart pipe raised. Then, a sharp and loud plop sounded. Something heavy as a bottle of milk fell through the branches twenty yards away. They retrieved the lifeless song bird. They threw it into the river. For a couple seconds, the ripples rang out. Then, the water surface seemed to boil with fish jumping. The water sounded aggressive. The indigenous pushed Donald away from the river. They walked further down the river. The green wall was always on their side. The second in line repeated the bird shooting and water thrown. This time nothing moved in the river. They crossed the river. The wet clothes hung heavy on Donald. He mumbled "$200" referring to his pants. He tried to squeeze water out of his pants, yet did not dare taking off his clothes. He checked his iPhone. It was ruined. He should have taken it out. The Stockholm Syndrom made a lot of sense. Because if he ran from his captors now, he may just kill himself getting lost in the vast jungle. "They call it invisible handcuffs," he thought to himself. "Itigil," called out the leader and reached his arms wide. He stood next to a tree that had been cut with a sharp instrument over and over. They looked like hieroglyphs. Some were symbolic. Some were rudimentary drawings of birds and a son. If Donald could have snapped a photo, they would definitely be very interesting to show his friends. Though, he had to stay focused on survival and getting out of this jungle. The last man in the group was the tallest of them. He looked up to the crown of the tree. Then, he climbed the tree. His hands reached around the trunk. His feet squatted and jumped like a frog. That way he frog jumped himself up the tree. About ten yards into the air a main branch trunked from the log. Apparently, hidden up there was a drum. The man started drumming. At first, the man seemed to try to find the sweet spot on the drum. Muffled sounds came down. Once he got the bright and loud sound going, he beat in a rhythm bam-bam-bam. Two minutes later, a female voice made frog like sounds in the distance. A second female voice made frog like sounds. The sounds traveled closer. Two indigenous women appeared. They were completely naked. Their body was half covered in black paint. The black paint covered them in squares and lines. Their hair was pitch black and soft. Even they were naked, there was nothing sexy about them. Their faces were distorted by wooden piercings. They lacked girlish features in their face. Their boobs were long tubes hanging down to their bellies. The length of their boobs was about a foot and a bit. The women were not even five feet tall. They were heavy set. Their butts were on the chubby side. Donald was astonished to see a naked female body that appeared not naked and attractive at all. Some kind of exchange was made. Then, the leash on Donald's neck was handed to one of the women. The men disappeared swiftly and silently out of sight. The two women looked closely at Donald with tentative faces. The smelled his body and his hair. One of them even licked his cheek. Her tongue was surprisingly soft compared to the tough exterior. They tucked on his neck leash and walked into the jungle. For the first time, there was a trail visible on the ground. There were many footsteps. More trails joined the well worn path. Then, there was a clearing with a little village. There were four huts made. The walls were many branches rammed into the ground next to each other. The branches were spaced clothes enough to keep anything the size of a large rat out. Yet, one could see inside of the huts. The top of the huts were covered with thick piles of large palm leaves. The center of the four huts had a large pole and sitting stones arranged in a circle. Donald was tied to the pole. The adrenaline was pumping in his blood vessels, because he could feel that they were about to do to him whatever they had captured him for. The women started pulling on his clothes. As they did not know Western clothing, Donald helped to unbutton and unzip his clothing. He thought that it was better to go along with the flow and keep the clothing intact for a later escape. He was quickly stark naked and surrounded by eight indigenous brown women. One of them had a dollop of white paint on her hand and started painting his body with squares on his chest and lines running down his arms. Another tied a vine around his belly and affixed his penis in an upright position like the men had dressed. He felt overwhelmed by the mob. Though, he could not help starring at their long tube like breasts. When they were done with the paint, they locked him into one of the huts. All the walls were rock solid. There was nothing in the hut but soft moist soil. Donald sat in the soil. In the hut next to him was a male indigenous. The male indigenous seemed to be captive as well. It seemed so, because the male did not leave the closed hut. And, the male looked onto everything with a passive and distant gaze. The odd thing about the man was that he had two inch long lines cut into his skin. The lines had healed into a thick scar. It looked almost like someone keeping count of something. CANNIBAL WORRIES IN THE VILLAGE From the hut, Donald could observe the women. One of the women was clearly elder. She had a few gray hairs. Her boobs were more wrinkled then the other boobs. The others gave her more space. Then, there were two women that stood more separate from the group. One of them was a really beautiful woman. Her skin was smooth and brown. She was the only one with normal boobs. And, her boobs were beautiful. Also in contrast to all the meat curtains for vaginas, she had potato wedges smooth like a baby. Next to the beauty was another woman. She seemed the youngest in the group. And, thus she seemed to have the lowest status. Perhaps, because of her age, her face and boobs were not as disfigured as the older women by piercings and cuttings. Though, she was ugly. Her teeth were too large. Her face was large blocky and made her spirit appear dull. Her boobs seemed to thin for her large frame. Her lower belly already started forming a pot belly. Her eyes were large and slow moving as if she were a bit retarded. After the women finished their powwow, the retard walked towards Donald's hut. She pointed at Donald and said 'anghel.' The man in the other hut snuffed 'demonyo.' She raised Donald from the floor by pulling on his neck leash. Then, she giggled and walked him out of the village. Quickly, there was a terrible stomach churning stench in the air. A minute later, the retard stopped at a pit. She squatted at the edge of it and took a dump into it. Then, she picked up a large plant leaf, folded it twice, and wiped her ass. She pointed Donald to do the same. He thought for a moment. That giggling and slow moving girl was weak. He could throw the girl into the pit and make a run for it. He had at least a five minutes head start to the women in the village. They were in better shape. His legs were longer. Impulsively, he grabbed the girl by both upper arms. The girl let out a rib-eye-dee-rib scream that curled Donald's blood. He swiftly squatted down at the edge of the pit to take a dump. It was the fastest that he was ever able to release a dump. Then, he took a large leave from her hand. He folded it. The corner of the leave was quite sharp. He placed it in the center of his anus and rotated it. He looked up at the girl who was looking down at him. She was thinking hard. Then, she placed her finger on his forehead. Donald tensed up afraid that she would throw him over in his weak squatting position to fall into the horrible pit of feces. She smiled at his reaction, as if she had made her point that she knew what he had been thinking. Her finger let go of his forehead. The retard girl walked ahead of him with the leash resting on her shoulder. He noticed the feminine shape in her naked butt, as he walked behind her. He was glad that his penis was already in an upright position to mask a partial erection. He was basically in a village of naked women. That would be a good story to tell, if he made it out alive. They did not enter the village. Instead they stopped at an earth stove. An earth mound had a fire pit inside and fresh fish laid on top of it to roast. They sat down together. She handed him one fish after the next and said "isda" with each fish. The fish had a silvery skin and ghastly dead looking eyes. The packed protein tasted good in his hungry stomach. She herself was eating grain porridge. When he motioned to ask to try her grain porridge, her hands pushed in the air against him to say 'no.' Then, she pointed to his biceps and pulled her arms apart, as if she tried to say that his muscles had to grow. Donald was intrigued with his new environment. He looked around at the hut, the earth stove, and the women, while the retard cleaned the stove and disposed of the fish bones. He realized that having no close was much more comfortable in the humid hot air. Regularly a breeze would touch his skin and wick away sweet to cool him down. Vacation in the Brazilian Jungle The village tour continued, when the retard walked him to a high point near the village. A high point was two feet higher than everywhere else in the flat country. There was a pile of rocks. The rocks were round shaped and about the size of half a bowling ball. The retard pointed at the rocks another point on the ground. And, then her arms reached down to simulate carrying the rocks. Donald understood that she wanted him to move the rocks from one spot to another. So, he bent over to lift one of them. The rocks were heavy, about 30-40 pounds. It would be good for him to get exercise, so that he would be in shape for his escape. The smooth rocks on his hands and the pumping muscles send endorphins into his body and made him feel good. Despite being a hostage, he actually felt good. When he was done, the retard signaled him to sit down and reach a rock up to him. It was quite hard to push the rock up to her hands. Before, he had been using his back and legs to move the rocks. Now, it was all arms. Once she got a rock, she let the rock drop to the ground and she asked for the next rock. Now, this was puzzling behavior to Donald. Was this some kind of prison labor? While they were finishing moving the last two rocks a middle aged woman came from the village. The middle aged woman had a wide body and the gentle movement of a mother. Her eyes were hazel brown. Her feet and hands were wider and meatier than everybody else. Her face seemed jolly and happy. The big handed woman pointed her index finger onto Donald's forehead until he leaned back and lied down on the ground. Then, she passed him a rock from the right. And, the retard asked for the rock on the left. In that manner, he was lying on his back and passing on the rock. It all reminded him of gym exercises with a medicine ball. By now, he had worked up a good sweat and his limbs were warm from the muscle activity. There was a sensual atmosphere for Donald for being around the naked women. For the women, it was very matter of fact to be naked. Thus, Donald's perception of the situation was tainted. However, he wondered, if they were feeding him so well and exercising to build up flesh, so that they could eat him better later. Was this a case of Hansel and Gretel and the witch in the ginger candy house? After the exercise, there was more food. And, it was again protein. The meat tasted like chicken. Yet, the pieces were so small, as if someone had hunted a dozen little song birds. Again, the retard insisted on him eating all the meat pieces, while she had grain porridge. Donald thought about his escape strategy. If he could find the river again, he could follow the river downstream. Eventually, there must be a large factory of some kind that takes advantage of the river. It was only a question, if he was able to get far enough before the dangers of the jungle took him down. He looked at the retard again. Even her features were big and blocky and her movements were slow and simple, she had an aliveness in her that was very attractive, sexy actually. Her being was so unperturbed in how she followed her own rhythm that Donald wanted to reach out and touch her to be connected to that inner rhythm of well being. Her lips may have been plain. However kissing those lips seemed so delicious to get a taste of her being. Partying with the Indigenous The first night had been odd in his hut prison. The wet soil floor was an odd place to sleep. The sticks as walls made him feel like sleeping in a chicken coop. The helplessness of not being able to live on his own in the jungle made him feel desolate. Maybe, escape was not feasible. He'd be at the mercy of whatever the villagers had planned for him. During the second day, the hut gave him a good opportunity to watch the villagers. For example, they all slept in the other two huts. The young beauty, that he had spotted the other day, was rather timid and clumsy with many tasks. The other women would show her tasks. And, she would often break a stick or drop something. For most of the day, she sat and observed with a beautiful face. The man in the other prisoner hut was a mean bastard. He'd try to throw little soil balls over to Donald's hut. And, he kept yelling 'demonio' any time that a woman approached Donald's hut. In moments of quiet, the man would silently weep for a couple minutes. The following days continued with different women feeding Donald. Donald would have to move, lift, pull, push, and throw the rocks until his skin was sweaty and his muscles shivered. The soil in the hut slowly conformed to his body shape from the repeated night rest. He learned that they called him Anghel. And, they admired his growing muscles. Once, the man broke free of his hut. The man scurried for a blow dart pipe. And, he almost succeeded in killing Donald. However, the woman leader caught and overpowered him first. Since, the man has only been more bitter about Donald's presence. About fifteen days after Donald's capture, the leader woman started banging with a stick against the pole in the center of the village. The banging was rough and lacked rhythm. The other women joined the circle one by one. They made one of the women sit in the center. They painted her body completely white. The white woman retrieved an object from the hut. It looked like an orange pill bottle. They took a white pill out of it and ground it to a paste. The woman rested the paste in the center of the circle. Then, she walked over and retrieved Donald. Donald was tied to the pole. His head was tied in place, so that he could not turn his head. The woman forcefully opened his lips and put the powder in his mouth. She rubbed it over his gums. It tasted bitter like coffee grounds. Donald's heart started beating. The women circled him. Kneeling on the ground, they moved their chest side to side on the ground and chanted. Then, his erection grew. The leader woman with her partial gray hair rose to her feet. She released the vine string from his penis. His penis sprang free. He was not particularly horny. However, his penis was rock hard. He looked at the leader woman. Those tube like hanging boobs were a foot long. They looked like deflated air tubes. Her vagina had long labias hanging like meat curtains at the side. Her skin and expression was so rough that she was more savage beast than human. In a way, their nudity had been a constant tease. His embarrassment to get in trouble for getting an erection had been constant. Somehow, he was free now that he was exposed with his sexual prowess. The leader woman took his penis in her hand the same way that she was holding a stick. Donald jumped up a little, as much as the rope bondage allowed. The leader woman tried to guide his penis inside of her vagina. She was too short. Her head was as high as his chest nipples. She climbed up the pole and wrapped her legs around him like a koala bear hugs a tree. She got his penis in her vagina. Her hips started grinding him. Disgusting! He was disgusted to be fucked by that ugly old woman. That ugly, old woman clenched him like she was holding onto his soul. And, then the horniness set in. He started to get turned on by the disgust and difference. The strange and ugliness spiked his horniness. He wanted to embrace it and be part of it. He reciprocated her thrusts by pushing his penis deeper. He felt her slippery vagina mucous skin on his penis skin without a condom. And, then all his pretense and thoughts dropped away at the height of orgasm. The semen was shooting inside of her. The women yelled a victory cheer. And, all the women yelled with her. He surrendered to it all. He gave his semen as an offering, because he could no longer hold it in. The leader put her hand on her vagina to hold the semen in. Then, she went into a head stand to be a semen vase. The next elder woman got up and released him from the pole to lay him on the ground. She took a sharp rock and made a two inch cut into his arm. Then, she rubbed dirt into the wound, before she mounted his penis as well. The powder poison had kept Donald hard. He rolled the woman over in the dirt and started fucking her hard. She happily surrendered into her moans and convulsions. After he had given her semen to her, she cut his arm again and rubbed dirt into it. Then, she took the same headstand to hold in his semen. One by one, he fucked all the village women. He loved fucking the beauty, yet got a bit bored once he actually did. The retard however was his favorite. Her way of being, of riding him, and of responding to his stimulation was so alive and original that he fell in love. With all the women in a headstand in a circle, Donald could have run away. However, he felt spent and tired. Plus, it was dark. He simply went into his hut. Had the Stockholm Syndrom set in? He feared that his mind had lost the perspective to make a plan of escape. NEW MEMBER OF THE SOCIETY From that initiation night on, Donald was free to wander. Once he tried to escape. He followed the path into the jungle. And, he found out that the path lead in a circle. On his return, he had found beauty preparing a stew. He threw her over and started fucking her from behind. She happily received him. She seemed excited to receive another sperm donation. To see with what else he could get away, he took his penis out of her vagina and put it into her ass. The moment that his penis was at the tip of her anus, it was like time stood still. He carefully slid his penis a bit forward to avoid hurting her. The penis went in smooth and easy like a hot knife into butter. And, he went add it. It was so kinky that his penis nearly exploded from all the blood. After a few thrusts she turned her head to him and smiled at him forgiving and said "manikin." Then, she put his penis back into her vagina without any concern of getting feces bacteria into her vagina. From then on, he had free reign with the women to sleep with them whenever and however he wanted. They encouraged him. They kept feeding him well and exercising him. A couple months later, their goal started to become evident, when they all had growing bellies and morning nausea. They wanted to become pregnant with him. Little by little, he learned their language better. He grew relationships with them. When they gave birth, it was wonderful. He had nine children, because the retard had twins. One day, a typewriter arrived in the village. It was a travel type writer. He started typing his story. And, he ended it with a message to his parents that they should not come looking for him. He had eight wives and nine children here. Back in the Western society, he only had a high school degree and would not be able to keep them all. So, he had found his paradise. A month later, he added another paragraph to his story. He had found out that the goal of the village was to raise soldiers. Mixing Caucasian and indigenous genes was going to raise child soldiers that would be much stronger than the indigenous men. They had induced him to impregnate all the women again. He loved the retard and her twins, Roy and Simone. He wrote to his parents pledging to take them all in, because he would send them out of the jungle to be safe. Two months later, a local newspaper reported that an American was found dead in the jungle hanging from a parachute and armed to the teeth. The local police suspected drug dealings or a rebel fraction.