Gary had never been hotter in his life.
Hey, that’s Africa for you, he thought to himself. It’s not like anyone ever said it wouldn’t be anything other than sweat-your-fucking-balls-off hot. And boy is it! If anything, they might have been underselling it!
That might have been true, but it was cold comfort (pun not intended) regardless, as it did nothing to alleviate the situation, which was that he was currently almost literally melting under the African sun as it oppressively beat down on both himself and his Father. Their wide-brimmed safari hats, which his Dad had bought specifically for this trip, did very little to spare them from its onslaught, either.
But how could Gary turn down a free trip to Africa, 110-degree daily highs and all (and that was on a cool day)? To do so would be downright stupid, ungrateful even! Most people yearned to visit and never did, leaving that last item on the Bucket List unfulfilled as they shuffled off this mortal coil, so how could he not agree to come, when his Father had offered to take him, all expenses paid?
That was really what this entire trip was to Gary – a cool opportunity to visit someplace exotic, that others would give him jealous looks over when he told them where he had gone on his two-week summer vacation (especially those portly, middle-aged women at work, who had only traveled as far as the Caribbean on their own trips).
For his Dad, though, this was the culmination of a lifelong dream. According to his Dad, he had wanted to visit the continent ever since his own Dad, Gary’s grandfather, had given a book of African animal photographs for his 7th birthday. In his Dad’s telling, he had been obsessed with the book, pouring over it again and again, reverently tracing the outlines of the elephants, rhinos, lions, cheetahs, giraffes, water buffalo, hyena, wild dogs, and his favorite, the hippos, with his pointer finger, imagining that he could feel their skin and hair from the comfort and safety of his suburban bedroom, far from the wild, dangerous savannah they called their home.
Eventually, he had, and totally unintentionally, destroyed that book through his daily perusing, to the point where most of the pages had fallen out, and had to be stacked back inside after every use, contained only by the front and back hard covers. He had held on to it, though, through college, marriage, and, tragically, divorce, and now those same plates had been framed and were hanging up in his home office, which was completely Africa-themed in a classy, Banana Republic store-esque way.
Such had been his obsession with Africa that even now they were on safari on their own, without a tour guide, despite the impassioned protestations of the hotel staff, from the time that they had first checked in to this very morning. But his Dad wouldn’t hear any of it.
“I’ve been preparing for this my entire life,” he had told Gary on the plane ride there, when he had first told his son that he was intent on exploring the Veldt all on their own. “An official “guide” would just slow us down at best. At worst, they’d keep us away from all of the really good stuff, out of some misguided attempt at “conservation.””
Gary hadn’t known what “the really good stuff” was referring to, but what they were seeing now was pretty incredible. It was just about noon, and they had come to the banks of a river that zigzagged through the dusty landscape. In the water, they could see the tops of the heads of a herd of hippos, the occasional flick of their tube-like ears driving away the occasional annoying insect.
“Those are mostly females,” his Dad said to him from the driver’s seat of the jeep. “That’s how Hippo herds organize themselves – one male with multiple females. Not bad, huh? I could get used to that!”
Gary rolled his eyes. He loved his Dad, but the guy could be unbearably corny at times, and adding the sexual aspect into the mix increased the cringe factor dramatically.
“And that’s the male right there,” his Dad said again, and pointed. “They call male Hippos Bulls, and female hippos Cows.”
Gary followed his Dad’s finger and saw the male as it waddled out of the water. It was massive, with a huge belly that almost touched the ground. A couple of small white birds were perched on its back, but they didn’t seem to have any trouble keeping their balance on the shiny surface of the animal.
“What is it doing?” asked Gary. “Why did it leave the water?”
“It saw a threat,” his Dad replied, with a grin. “Just watch! Oh boy, are we in for a treat!”
Indeed, his Dad was right, as the hippo trotted over to a crocodile that Gary hadn’t noticed before, which was only a few feet away from the river bank. Its mouth was open, perhaps in preparation for an attack.
“I didn’t see it either, until now,” his Dad said. He nodded in the direction of the Bull hippo. “But he did.”
Before the crocodile could strike, the hippo began to furiously pound on its head with its two front legs. The tail of the reptile thrashed, and its legs skidded over the dirt as it tried to, vainly, scamper away.
“It doesn’t look like much from all the way over here, but that’s two tons of weight that the hippo is bringing down on that croc,” his Dad continued. “God, imagine having that kind of power!”
Sure enough, the crocodile soon grew completely still, its tail and limbs going limp. A trickle of blood ran down its lower jaw from its closed mouth.
“Dead,” his Dad said. “Just like that. Never even got a single bite in. Incredible!”
The male hippo grunted, in a way that sounded almost satisfied, and turned and started heading back to the river.
“He should be getting laid after that, huh?” his Dad asked, and again Gary (internally) cringed. “Man, what a fucking animal!”
It was definitely cool to see that one-sided battle between reptile and mammal, but he didn’t feel as enthusiastic about it as his Dad had. For Gary, it was more akin to seeing a nature documentary – the kind you might put on when you literally can’t find anything else to watch – live and in-person, but it didn’t mean much to him beyond that. In fact, it was a little disturbing to witness the death of another living thing, even if, on an intellectual level, he understood that this was just how things worked out in the hard, unforgiving wild.
“Oh man, I was right!” his Dad exclaimed beside him, ripping Gary away from his philosophical musings on life and death in the animal kingdom.
The male Hippo had, while Gary was distracted, been joined on the bank of the river by another hippo – a female, judging by the engorged, dark teats that hung just before her thick hind legs. The female squatted down on the dirt, her hindquarters towards the male, and the male, with another grunt, mounted her. Lazily, the male began to thrust into the female.
Gary looked away, feeling self-conscious, but his Dad, he noticed, kept on staring at them. His breathing sounded heavier as well, but Gary chalked that up to the dirt particles in the air, kicked up by the activity of the animals, both during the violent confrontation and the subsequent sex. That was a much less disturbing explanation than the alternative.

Nine hours later, they were lying in their tent together. After the hippos, they had gone on, in their rented jeep, to see the whole suite of African wildlife – elephants, rhinos, lions, cheetahs, giraffes, water buffalo, hyenas, wild dogs, and a wide variety of birds, all of whom his Dad had, amazingly, identified but whose names Gary could now not recall in the slightest.
Once it started to get dark, his Dad had driven around until they found a suitable camping location, which, in his Dad’s estimation, was in the shade of a massive Baobab Tree. In the distance, they could make out the hazy form of Mount Kilimanjaro.
It had only taken about fifteen minutes for his Dad to set everything up, on account of all of the practicing he had done in anticipation of the trip, and Gary was thankful, because, as soon as they were finished with dinner (sandwiches they had brought with them from the hotel), he jumped into his sleeping bag and immediately fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
He didn’t know how long he was out for, but when he was awakened, he emerged into a very different world than the one he had been in when he was last conscious.
His sleeping bag was gone, and his pajamas – an old My Chemical Romance t-shirt and black gym shorts- had disappeared with it, along with his boxers. His immediate reaction upon realizing he was completely nude was to cover his genitals with his hands, because he was not alone – he was surrounded, on all sides, by what looked to be an entire tribe of Africans.
They were organized, mainly, in two circles, with the inner rim composed of women and old folks, all of whom were either sitting or lying on their sides. Behind them, all standing, were the men, strong and bare-chested, holding their spears by their sides.
Beyond them were a mix of all of the aforementioned, dancing, singing, and playing strange instruments that were fashioned to look like various African animals: elephants, hippos, and lions. They were assembled loosely around three large bonfires, and the light they were casting hinted at the presence of large huts.
Panicked, Gary looked for his Dad – and found him. He was within the circle, same as Gary, and naked as well, but he was standing, and in his hands was a massive dish filled with an alien, golden liquid. He had lifted the saucer to his lips, and, eyes closed, was drinking the liquid, gulping it down as if he had been suffering from dehydration. His cock was fully erect.
“Dad?” Gary asked. “What’s going on? What are you drinking? Why are you drinking it?”
His Dad didn’t respond, but Gary wasn’t sure if he had even heard him over the cacophony of the music, dancing, and chanting.
Before he could ask again, his Dad finished the entire contents of the bowl, and threw it down to the ground, close to where Gary was lying. His Dad let out a satisfied “Ahhhh!”, and wiped his mouth with his right forearm. A round of excited whoops rang out from the tribes people. A few of the older folks, Gary noticed, were actually crying softly.
Gary peered at the inside of the saucer, in an effort to gain some clue as to what his Dad had just consumed. A few glowing droplets remained, and Gary bent down to smell them (though it made him self-conscious to present his bare ass to his abductors in doing so). Whatever it was, it gave off an odor unlike anything he had ever taken in via his nose before, and was so intense that he couldn’t tell if he thought it smelled really, really good, or really, really bad.
What was more, he noticed that there were the black stilettos of humanoid figures decorating the inside of the bowl, but what they were exactly supposed to depict, he could not quite figure out. They had two legs and two arms each, yes, in accordance with the standard human form, but their heads were huge and completely misshapen. There also appeared to be some sexual dimorphism at work too, with a smaller female variant that exhibited large, impossibly round breasts and impossibly wide hips, and a male counterpart that had a bigger, rounder belly, and what was probably supposed to be an enormous penis that was hanging between their dense legs.
But before he could try to glean any more insight into what the bowl had contained, he heard his Dad cry out in pain. Gary looked back over to his Dad, and discovered that he was doubled over, his arms wrapped around his stomach. His dick was no longer erect, either, and in fact had gone so flaccid it almost looked like it was trying to escape back up into his body.
“Dad?” Gary asked again, and made to stand up to try to assist him, however he might be able to. But before he could, he fell back to the ground, on his bare ass, in total astonishment over what he had just seen, which was every last strand of blonde hair on his Dad’s head detaching itself from his scalp and falling to the ground, with some landing on his white-as-clean-sheets feet.
Gary looked at the scattered pieces of hair, dumbfounded. He had heard that cancer patients undergoing chemotherapy lost their hair, but not all at once, like this. It was impossible for what just happened to have ever happened in the first place, despite the very real evidence that now littered the soil of Africa before him.
This is just a nightmare, he told himself. A dream. In a second you’ll wake up, and be right back in the tent. The worst thing you might see is some uncomfortably large bugs hanging out on the nets we put up, but that’s about -
Another cry of agony interrupted this attempt from Gary to cope with what he was witnessing. He looked to his Dad again, and saw that he was still hunched over. Beneath his skin, on his biceps, triceps, and shoulders, it looked like the muscles there, almost atrophied from disuse, were shifting like a mass of thick, writhing worms or snakes.
His Dad moaned, a guttural utterance that Gary interpreted as a sign that his Dad was beyond nominal levels of pain. In sympathy, Gary felt his own genitalia shrivel up, trying to beat the same retreat as his Dad’s.
The muscles ceased their rapid movement, and Gary hoped that, whatever was happening, that would be the end of it.
Of course, it wasn’t.
The muscles were no longer shifting around, but now they were swelling upward, stretching the skin that encased them like they were nothing but taffy sold at a boardwalk candy store. Underneath it all, Gary could hear the sounds of cracking, and realized that had to be his Dad’s very bones reforming along with his body’s soft tissue.
His Dad was starting to gain in height as well, and Gary noticed that, while he had been focusing on his Dad’s upper body, his lower half was undergoing just as much of a rapid transformation as the rest of him. As the muscles accumulated, and the bones that supported them changed accordingly, his Dad leaned back, threw out his arms, and let out a primordial cry that sent a chill through Gary’s body, from the tips of his feet to the very top of his head.
For a moment, the transfigurations stopped, and Gary, despite the horror he felt, was amazed at his Dad’s shift in appearance. Before, his Dad had the kind of body that people liked to call “Skinnyfat” (thin, but with a slight belly paunch and little to no muscle definition), but now he could give Arnold Schwarzenegger in his prime a run for his money. But even that was an understatement, because his Dad, in Gary’s estimation, had to be at least seven feet tall now as well.
The only incongruity was that his hands and feet were comically undersized in comparison, but then, as if whatever force was guiding his Dad’s metamorphosis could read Gary’s mind, they finally caught up to the rest of him, expanding in width and length both.
With that, his Dad collapsed to the ground. The men of the tribe pounded the ground with the bottoms of their spears, marking the end, or the beginning, of something.
For a few heart-stopping seconds, Gary thought his Dad was dead, but felt temporarily relieved when he saw that his new, muscular chest was still rising up and down. He hadn’t thought about it until now, but Gary guessed that his organs had changed as well, and wondered faintly at how big his lungs must be now in order to effectively pump oxygen through his new body.
As Gary continued to survey his Dad’s body, spread out in front of him, his Dad’s own eyes still firmly shut, Gary wondered if, just maybe, what was happening to him and his Dad was actually a good thing. Up until now, he had assumed the worst – that this strange tribe had abducted them to eat, sacrifice, and/or fight to the death for their amusement. Instead, they had seemingly given his Dad an extraordinary, even miraculous, physical upgrade.
This is like a Superhero’s origin story, Gary mused to himself. Usually it's science-based – some sort of formula or gene therapy or burst of radiation – but it can be magical in origin as well. I mean, Dad looks like he could break a criminal in two with his own bare hands. Maybe I should get the bowl, and try to lick up whatever remnants I can before they all dry up, and I miss out!
But now something new was happening to Gary’s Dad. Starting from the tips of his hairy toes, the color of his skin was changing, turning from its standard pale-white (working in an office five days a week as an accountant wasn’t exactly conducive to getting and maintaining a tan) to a light grey, and then on to a dark grey almost immediately after.
In a matter of only a minute or two, his entire body was changed in this way, leaving his Dad looking, in conjunction with his bald head, like an old statue, left over and long forgotten from the days of ancient Rome, when they had made their own incursions into Africa. The only things missing were the cracks, because, on the contrary, his skin was now free of any blemishes at all. He didn’t even have any stretch marks, and his body should have been lousy with them considering how much his skin must have expanded to cover all of the new surface area.
But, with this change in skin tone, whatever awe Gary had felt before was wiped out nearly instantaneously. Forget the muscles – whatever was happening to his Dad could not be good if it resulted in him turning fucking grey! Gary had to wake him up, somehow (because he sure as shit wouldn’t be able to carry him with the additional two hundred pounds of muscles he had accumulated), and get them both the hell out of there (how they would get past the tribesmen (and women), and then find the nearest outpost of civilization, was a question for another time)!
Before Gary could put this plan into action, his Dad’s eyes shot open, and he let out a roar so inhuman - so loud, and so bassy - that he heard the little rocks strewn around on the ground rattle, as if they were experiencing a minor earthquake.
“Dad!” Gary called, more frightened than ever.
He couldn’t say for certain, but it sounded like the music was growing louder and more discordant too. He also had the sense that, just beyond the reach of his peripheral vision, some of the villagers had broken from the circle and joined their brethren by the fires, too, joining in the dancing and singing, but whether it was out of fear or joy, Gary did not know.
But he couldn’t look away from his Dad to confirm either way, because the process that was remaking him had reached his genitals. Yes, they had turned grey, along with everything else, but they hadn’t increased in size, making the resemblance to those old, crumbling statues all the more acute (why had the Romans been into small cocks, anyway? Gary would look it up later, if they made it out of here in one piece). But that was all being rectified now.
It was subtle at first, to the point where Gary thought his Dad was only (somehow) getting another erection, until it finally dawned on him that his cock was still flaccid – it was just growing – in length and in thickness – while still staying limp.
When it was over, Gary doubted that even the most skilled female porn star on Planet Earth could comfortably handle it, such was its elephantine size. And the testicles that it now rested upon were, in Gary’s judgment, no less than the size of grapefruits!
Gary began feeling a resurgence of envy when his Dad emitted that demonic cry again, but this time, his eyes did not open. Instead, they pinched even tighter, and the sounds of snapping bones once again competed with the eerie music and the rhythmic stomping of feet and clapping of hands from beyond the circle. But now that painful crackling was coming from his Dad’s head.
Gary winced as he watched his Dad’s skull grow upward and outward. His teeth fused together. His tongue widened. His ears morphed.
With this, everything finally clicked into place for Gary. The grey coloring. The muscle mass. The increased height. Those strange figures etched into the rim of the bowl. His Dad was becoming an anthropomorphic Hippo – i.e. a humanoid being with the head of a Hippo and the approximate form of a human being, all as a product of ingesting that golden liquid.
Gary scurried backward on his hands and knees as his Dad – or the creature that had formerly been his Dad – finally began trying to stand up again.
The music, stomping, clapping, and chanting reached its zenith as the Hippo, awkwardly at first, lifted himself up from off the ground. When he was fully erect, the Hippo, almost comically, began performing for the crowd: flexing his left and right arms (separately and at the same time), kicking his massive legs, and opening his cavernous mouth to show off his incredible teeth.
But apparently the transformation, somehow, wasn’t quite over yet. The Hippo had, up until this point, sported a very flat stomach, which, along with his broad shoulders and muscular chest, gave his overall form a distinct upside-down triangle shape. But now his stomach was rapidly putting on fat, and didn’t stop until his belly was hanging low enough that it was practically resting atop his hardened cock (which had to be at least a foot and a half long, now that Gary could see it at full strength).
This didn’t displease the Hippo at all, however, and, in fact, he seemed to be happy about it, rubbing it dramatically, and grabbing the sides of it, and using that leverage to bounce it up and down slightly, with each descent causing his truly gargantuan cock to shake with it.
The only downside came, then, when the Hippo, simultaneously, let out the loudest fart and belch Gary had ever heard – that maybe anyone anywhere had ever heard. Apparently, the accumulation of all that belly fat came with the buildup of some pretty serious gas! Gary tried, and failed, to stop himself from gagging, and it wasn’t long before he felt tears running down his face. The liquid that had engendered these changes had been ambiguous to Gary in that he couldn’t tell whether it had smelled good or bad to him, but what he was taking it now was without any doubt the worst thing he had ever smelled in his life.
All at once, the music, chanting, stomping, and clapping ceased, leaving the only noises the pained coughs emitting from Gary, as the Hippo’s noxious odors traveled down his throat and up his nose. If anybody else was suffering as Gary was, they were doing a very good job of hiding it.
Without so much as a murmur, the circle of tribes people opened, and a parade of women walked through the hole made for them and entered the makeshift arena. At their head was, Gary saw, even through his salty tears, the most beautiful black woman he had ever laid eyes on (which was saying a lot, as Gary had never really been into black women). Her waist was small, but her breasts were big and supple, and her hips were wide enough to ensure many safe deliveries of future children. These features were obvious even through her opulent clothing - a ceremonial dress of layered kente cloth, cowrie-shell beadwork, hammered gold ornaments, and a wide beaded waist belt that cinched her tightly at the middle. Her jet black hair had been groomed into a perfect globular afro, its round silhouette decorated with ivory beads, cowrie shells, and thin golden pins arranged like rays around a powerful black sun.
Behind her, two to a row, were what Gary assumed were, if this was indeed an African Princess, her handmaidens. Unlike the one they served, they were all bald and wore the simpler clothing typical of the rest of the tribe. Each one, though, held a bowl that looked suspiciously similar to the one his Dad had been imbibing from when he woke up, and the golden liquid in each twinkled under the moonlight.
The Princess approached the Hippo and laid her delicate, long-nailed hands on his great stomach. She looked up at him and spoke in a language Gary did not understand. The Hippo responded back, in what sounded like that same tongue, and his voice was so deep that it felt like its vibrations traveled into the earth, over to where Gary still lay, and then ascended up into his very bones, causing them to rattle in tune.
The Princess said something else, and then laughed. She turned from the Hippo and addressed her people, a broad smile on her angelic face. Whatever she said to them caused them not only to laugh as well, but to whoop and yell too, and, all at once, the music and dancing started up again, just as loud as before.
The Princess turned again, and now gazed down at Gary. She looked him over from head to toe, obviously unimpressed, and when she passed over his genitals, she even sneered a little . Gary stopped himself from explaining that they were only as paltry as they were because he was scared shitless.
She turned her head slightly, and barked what must have been some sort of order at her handmaidens, because, almost totally in sync with one another, they placed their respective bowls gently onto the ground. Then, arms and legs pumping, and letting out visceral screams, they ran at Gary at full speed.
Gary tried to get up before their bodies collided with his own, to give himself even a faint chance at fighting them off. He didn’t, however, and as he felt their full strength brought to bear upon him, he realized that, even if he had been fast enough to get up in time, he would have quickly been taken down again anyway. The handmaidens, despite their appearances and apparent subservient roles, were incredibly strong, especially compared to Gary, who hadn’t seen the inside of a weight room since Gym class in High School had forced him into one.
As they held him down (all that was necessary was one per set of Gary’s limbs, much to his embarrassment), the Princess bent down, picked up one of the bowls where it had been placed by her servant, and then calmly walked over to Gary, her prodigious hips swishing from side to side as she came.
Gary could put two and two together – the Princess was going to feed him the same golden liquid that his Dad had willfully consumed, turning him into an anthropomorphic hippo in much the same fashion (or maybe some other beast - that was possible as well, Gary granted). Well, Gary wasn’t going to let them (at least not easily)!
While making direct contact with the Princess, who was now only a foot or so away from him, he firmly shut his mouth, a defiant act against her intended designs. He even smirked a little, to rub it in that she would not get her way.
The Princess, in response, just laughed, and said something to one of her unoccupied handmaidens, who was kneeling next to the woman holding Gary’s legs down, waiting to spring into action if she needed any assistance. The handmaiden smiled, leaned down, took his pale testicles in her ebony hand, and squeezed. Hard.
Gary was struck, as if by lightning itself, by an intense, blinding pain. His mouth popped open. The Princess, standing over him, tipped the bowl and poured the concoction down his throat. It was a direct, clean hit. Not even a single drop was wasted.
Giggling, the handmaidens, along with the Princess, retreated backwards and surrounded the Hippo, who, while Gary was being dealt with, had decided to sit down, lying on his side so that his huge penis and gut rested against the ground. Absentmindedly, while they watched Gary, the handmaidens and the Princess stroked and caressed the Hippo. No less than three of them ran their hands up and down the shaft of his cock, which was so big that their fingers never even met one another once during their respective routes.
For Gary, the order of his transformation followed very closely that of his Dad’s.
First, all of the hair atop his head fell out.
Then, his muscles increased rapidly in size, while the bones underneath them shifted accordingly to support them. His hands and feet followed suit.
Next came the changing of his skin pigmentation, from white to grey.
But this is where the process began to diverge in some very key ways.
Like his Dad, the next part of his body that changed was his genitals, but, rather than increase in size, his cock and balls began to simultaneously shrink and retreat (now literally) back into his body. The glans of his penis became a clitoris, while, internally, his testicles reformed themselves into a pair of healthy, fertile ovaries.
Gary had watched the absorption of his manhood with abject horror, and now moved his embiggened right hand down to his groin to better confirm what he had suspected had just occurred. When his grey, thick fingers touched his new clit, a wave of pleasure shot through him, which helped distract him from the agony of his skull being reformed from Human to Hippo.
Last came the buildup of fat, which, unlike his Dad, focused primarily on his hips, thighs, and ass (his belly had swelled as well, but just nearly to the same extent as Dad’s). He also grew a pair of gigantic breasts, each sporting a dark dinner plate-sized nipple.
With that, he knew it was all over – like his Dad, he had become an anthropomorphic Hippo. But unlike his Dad, he was a female one.
It took her a few awkward moments to roll over onto her side, then her stomach, and then, finally, to push herself off the ground with her new strong arms. Struggling to balance on her long, thick legs, she swung her enormous head sideways, surveying the crowd. Nobody was standing or sitting anymore: they were all dancing, chanting, and playing music, and more than a few of them had paired off and started fucking too, caught up in the sexuality-charged events. She noticed that the old folks were not excluded from any of it, either. If anything, she thought that perhaps they were getting into it even more than many of the younger tribes people, judging by the variety of the positions they were engaging in, and the amount of old-people group sex that was going on.
“Hey, baby,” a deep, gravely male voice said to her right.
She turned again, and saw the Bull Hippo still in his reclined position, surrounded by and being pampered by the tribeswomen. Something was coming out of the tip of his penis and dripping onto the dirt. With a shudder, she realized it was pre-cum.
“Why don’t you come over here, beautiful?” asked the Bull Hippo, patting the empty space next to him. She was only dimly aware of the fact that he was probably speaking the same language as before, but only now could she fully understand it, as if it were her fluent tongue.
“These good people want to see us put on a show, if you catch my drift. It’s all part of the ritual,” he continued, “so it’s not even really about just bein’ freaky . Okay, well, maybe it’s not just about bein’ freaky.” The Bull smiled, showing off his porcelain white teeth.
Not only had his voice changed (before his Dad had had a slightly high-pitched tone to his voice), but even the way he talked was different. The words were rolling off his tongue almost as if he was reciting poetry.
“Show?” the Cow responded. She could guess what he really meant by that. “No, that’s sick – I’m your son!”
The Bull chuckled, causing his belly to shake in tandem. The Princess and her Handmaidens giggled with him.
“Not anymore, baby,” he said.
The Bull looked the Cow up and down, with a hungry look in his small eyes. The Cow covered her nipples and vagina with her hands, but she knew it was too late. He had been looking at her so long already that her naked visage would have already been permanently seared into his memory. She had been a man only a few minutes ago. She understood how those things worked.
“Whoever drank the potion after me would become my perfect mate, I was told by this fine mama right here,” said the Bull, as he reached over and grabbed the ass of the Princess, causing her to blush. “She explained everything before you ever woke up, when we was still human. Ya see, how could you be my perfect mate if you were related to me? Our kids would come out all fucked up and shit, right? So, nah, we ain’t kin at all no more. ”
“And listen to this, baby,” the Bull continued. “The original plan was for all of the Princess’ girls here to drink that lovely brew, and become my own little harem. But I told them that I’d gladly exchange all of them for just one of you. You should be proud as all hell!
He licked his lips with his thick tongue as his eyes darted around, desperately trying to catch another glimpse of her fat vagina. The Cow pressed her fingers together even tighter to deny him his prize.
“But there’s more ya gotta know, the Bull said. “These particular people are brand new to this whole game, or so they tell me. It was another tribe – a rival tribe - that held the secret to whipping up their own special Guardian – that would be what we are now - for themselves, to keep them safe from man and beast alike.
“So this Rival Tribe used their little Guardian monopoly to take what they wanted from our people: their clothes, food, anything that wasn’t nailed down, really. Worst of all was that they took the people themselves too, from time to time, to use as slaves. It’s fucked up, right?”
For a brief, disturbing second, the Cow did feel sympathy for the Tribe, but she stifled the feeling almost as soon as she was aware of it. They did not deserve it.
“Well, eventually, their last Guardian died after a fight with a male Elephant that was in the throes of Musth, and our Princess here had the bright idea of getting the drop on them before they could make the next one. Naturally, since our Princess is such a smart cookie, everything worked out just as planned: the Rival Tribe is no more, and that wonderful juice of theirs is now ours. All that remains of the Rival Tribe is down working in the diamond mines, because now they the goddamn slaves. Serves ‘em right, if you ask me!
“Diamond mines?” the Cow asked. Her head was spinning with all of this new information that the Bull was telling her, but this last bit wasn’t making any sense. A Tribe that had control of a Diamond Mind would be a powerhouse, and not relegated to a few Stone Age-era huts.
“Yeah,” the Bull answered, and patted the ground. “The real city is below us. This whole thing up here is basically a movie set, ya dig? It’s something for the tourists to see, while the real action is hidden below their own two pale feet. What, you thought these people were still living like it was prehistoric times or something?”
“Anyway,” he continued, “we’ll see it all together, later. I understand they’ve got a spot already picked out for us and everything, with a big bed wide enough and strong enough to hold us both comfortably at the same time.”
The images of the two of them cuddling together…sleeping together…doing other things together…in this theoretical bed flashed through the Cow’s mind, and a wave of nausea followed quickly on its heels. The idea of having sex with the Bull…of being his Wife…of bearing his children…was all too much.
She had to get out of there.
Right now.
Without any warning, she made a mad dash for the edge of the circle. Those humans who were wise enough scrambled out of her way as fast as they could. Those that weren’t were trampled. Were they being crippled, or even killed? She’d have to worry about that later. There was no time for that now.
As she ran through the camp, even as she felt the snap and crunch of human bone under her massive feet, as vulnerable to her as twigs, she marveled at how fast she was moving. It was hard to know for sure, but she guessed she was going along at about thirty miles an hour, far faster than any human could ever hope of running, even the greatest, past or present, of the Olympian sprinters.
This was also despite how fat she was – she had to now weigh at least a thousand pounds! She had to remind herself that, even under all of this blubber, there were layers and layers of powerful muscle that were now working in unison to propel her to safety, without even feeling slightly out of breath.
But all of this power meant her situation wasn’t hopeless. She could escape. She could even fight off the Bull himself, if that’s what it came to. That gave her some hope.
In her path was one of the huts. Invigorated at the thought of her newfound strength, she didn’t even try to maneuver around it. Instead, she hastened her speed and charged directly into it. In a literal blur, she was through the building and already out through the other side.
She felt no small sense of satisfaction as she heard it collapse behind her. She wondered if there had been anybody inside it.
Now she was past the limits of the village, and out in the open savannah. It was a clear night, however, and the moonlight, along with her enhanced vision, allowed her to see ahead of her almost as clearly as if it were still daytime.
Her heavy breasts swung from side to side like branches on a tree during a heavy wind.
Her round belly lurched up and down, with enough strength to crush a watermelon.
Each time her feet made contact with the earth, a shockwave rippled through her legs, and up into her incredible ass cheeks.
But eventually, regardless of her superhuman abilities, she ran out of stamina nevertheless, and finally collapsed onto the ground. Lying on her back, she breathed deeply in and out, horrified (and amazed) that her stomach was so now so big that, in this position, she couldn’t even see her legs or feet.
What was she going to do? What could she do? Now that she had finally stopped bouncing over the African landscape, she could start to think more clearly about what her next steps should be. If she wanted to turn back into a human male, and she did, she’d have to return to the village and hope that she’d find more of that accursed potion somewhere inside it.
But how many of the villagers would she have to fight – and perhaps kill – before she finally had some in hand? And not just by running over them, either: if she chose this path, she’d inevitably end up having to take some of them out with her own two hands. Was she ready to do that: to intentionally take a life, to see the light leave the eyes of another human being, and know it was all her doing? When she was a man, she had been reluctant to even squash the odd bug!
Speaking of, just how much would she need of that golden crap to turn her back into a human male? Would just a drop suffice? Or as much as had been poured into her by the Princess? Would she find those other bowls still set down where they had been by the handmaidens? Or had they been overturned in all of the chaos, their contents even now being absorbed by the soil (for a brief moment she thought about what would happen if a bug or other subterranean creature was unintentionally exposed to the stuff. Could the Tribes people, right now, be engaged with a monstrously sized worm or beetle?)
And what about the Bull Hippo, that until the past hour, was her very own Father? He had made his designs for her unsettlingly plain. Unless he was being devoured whole by a skyscraper-length worm or impaled on the horns of a bus-sized beetle right now, she’d have to deal with him too.
The only consolation was that whatever affection she had for him in the past was gone, done away with totally after that conversation they had had after her transformation. Somehow, out of everything that had happened since she woke up in that infernal circle, that was what disturbed her the most : that he was so eager to take his former son as his Wife! The very idea of it made her want to throw up!
He had always seemed like such a timid guy too. Even when he had gotten divorced, it had been his wife that had filed for it. Her reasoning was that she had been screwing her boss for the better part of a year, starting when they had gone away to a conference in Houston. She had told him this as a way of explaining why she was doing what she was doing – but the thing was, he already knew! He had known for months (she hadn’t really bothered to conceal it as well as she could have), and had chosen to overlook it in order to continue being with her. He would have been fine with her continuing to see him too, if it meant they could keep their marriage intact.
The only reason this arrangement couldn’t work was that that’s not what she wanted. Her Boss was also going to separate from his wife, and they were going to marry each other in short order. So they split, and while his Wife was off living her Best Life with her new Husband (and, yes, he remained her Boss as well. It was his own business, so he could do whatever he damn well wanted too, without even the existence of a Human Resources Department to tell him otherwise), taking cruises to the Caribbean twice a year on only the newest and most expensive ships, he was stuck striking out on Bumble, Tindr, and Plenty of Fish.
The only reason he knew any of this was because her Mom had told him so when they had gone out to dinner together for his birthday, a few months after she was already remarried. This too was a slight against her ex-husband; she could see that now, a sign that she respected him so little that she didn’t care if or how what she told his son about him would impact how he felt about him.
And it did. The Son did think less of the Father based on the story told by the Mother over a dinner of Peruvian-Colombian fusion food.
But it was all quite the contrast from the confident, masculine Bull that had already been talking about their future together back at the camp. And as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t blame it on the change either, because, according to him, he had wanted to give her the liquid instead of the handmaidens even before she woke up.
But before you could muse further on the hidden nature of her former Father, she felt something impact, hard, onto her right leg. Pain shot directly from the impact area up and down her body, and she let out a roar, a response to both the pain itself and her surprise at its sudden onset.
She leaned forward, and sucked in her belly (the only way to even have the slightest chance of being able to see over it.) What she found was that, sometime during her ruminations, a crocodile had emerged from the river, crept over the dirt, and had clamped its powerful jaws down onto her right leg.
This crocodile, though, was big, far larger than the one she had seen bested by the more conventional hippocampus earlier that day. This one was more like the bastard son of Godzilla’s sexual relationship with a crocodile, and so long that she could see, half of its body was still submerged in the river.
She tried to kick the crocodile’s head with her free foot, but the angle was all wrong, and so each of her attempted blows fell far short of doing enough damage to even begin to persuade the crocodile into letting her go. Switching tactics, she attempted to knock on the crocodile with her fists, but found that, with her belly being as absurdly big as it was, she couldn’t even reach far enough to get close to the Reptilian’s head, even after straining her upper back to its absolute physical limit.
After all of this wasted effort, she could see that she was now within only a few feet of the water. Once the crocodile had fully submerged both of them in the river, she knew it would all be over. That was its territory, and all it would have to do was keep her underwater long enough for her to drown. Then, it would be free to eat her at its preferred pace, as fast or as slow as it wanted.
She brought her head back down and stared up at the stars. A feeling of resignation washed over her. Oh, what was the point, anyway? She knew her prior plans of assaulting the village were a long shot anyway. Yes, she was strong, but if she couldn’t even best one croocidle, what hope did she really have of taking on an entire village? Not only did they have the sheer numerical advantage, but they had decades, even centuries, of experience in fighting and hunting. All of the raw strength in the world wouldn’t help her against their honed skills. And they had weapons, too, maybe even guns, if what the Bull had told her about the village basically being a “movie set” were true.
And that wasn’t even getting to the question of whether what had been done to her was reversible in the first place. It was very possible that it didn’t matter how much of the golden liquid she found and consumed. She could very well find herself in the middle of the village, surrounded on all sides by mountains of dead bodies, including that of the Bull, while she poured bowl after bowl of the potion down her throat, to absolutely no effect at all. She would remain just a big fat hippo, plopped there on the ground, her big belly stained with the liquid that had somehow missed her cavernous mouth.
And then what would she do? What kind of life could she expect to have even if she did, by some miracle, make it back to human civilization? Unbidden, an image flashed in her mind of her big body splayed out on a cold, sterile operating table under harsh fluorescent lights, with a team of doctors and scientists hunched over her, all of them wearing white face masks, her torso cut open down the middle, the wound held open by strange medical instruments, her precious organs exposed to them for their inspection…
All things considered, then, maybe it was best to just let the Crocodile take her. Hey, he or she had to eat too, right? It was the Circle of Life and all that…
She was just about prepared to accept her fate when she felt the pressure on her leg disappear. When she sucked in her stomach and leaned forward to see what had happened, she found that the Bull had found them both, and had used his strong arms and hands to wrench the crocodile's jaws open.
The Cow, feeling a deep sense of relief (and thus betraying that she never actually wanted to die), scrambled up the river bank, to both get out of range should the crocodile gain the upper hand, and to get a better view of what was about to transpire.
The Bull, with the water up to his knees, had one hand on either side of the croc’s mouth, and was attempting to pull the crocodile’s jaws open past the point where they would break, killing it. The Bull’s muscles were straining so badly that the Cow thought he might burst a blood vessel, but, before he could successfully execute his killing blow, they promptly snapped shut, and the Bull moved his hands out of the way just in time to avoid them being trapped as her leg had just been.
What proceeded was like something out of an old Japanese Kaiju film, with the Bull Hippo and the overgrown crocodile locked in mortal combat with one another in the shallow water.
Up until the very end, it was far from obvious who would emerge from the conflict as the winner. There were many times when it seemed like the crocodile would succeed in pulling the Bull into the river, only to be staved off at the last moment, or that the Bull had the crocodile on the ropes, when it would rally and attack again with renewed vigor.
But, as she watched the Bull fight, the Cow not only felt all of her animosity for the Bull slip away, but actually flip and become active affection! It did not escape her that he was doing all of this for her, but there was something else going on too: as she watched his muscles flex, his belly slosh back and forth, and his flaccid (but still huge) cock move up and down, she felt a sort of…heat… begin to blossom in her lower abdomen.
And, when the Bull managed to grab hold of the crocodile’s jaws again, and this time, after a few well-placed punches to either side of its head to soften its resistance, was able to wretch them both well past their breaking point, killing the crocodile, something switched in her brain, and she could deny it no longer – she wanted him, more than she had ever wanted anything else in her life!
Dimly, she was aware of how insane that was. She had never once in her entire life, ever for even a single second, felt any kind of sexual attraction for another man. But when he threw the lifeless body of her would-be devourer to the side, with the kind of carelessness that showed his utter contempt for this demonic thing that would dare to try to make his woman into his next meal…she was surprised she didn’t literally start drooling.
She had never felt hotter in her life.
Even so, as the Bull sauntered over, his body stained in the blood of his defeated foe, and his cock now fully erect and leaking thick pre-cum into the red water, it was clear that, even without her having to salivate, it was obvious to him that she had had a severe, but very much welcome, change of heart.
As he knelt in front of her, his cock pointed directly at her quivering vagina, he didn’t say anything, and neither did she – because, really, nothing had to be said. With a grunt, he took hold of the underside of her thighs, and pushed them back, popping out her big grey belly even more than it already was.
Before entering her, he gazed down at her belly and smiled a cocky smile.
Of course he likes his women fat, the Cow thought to herself. He’s a Real Man, after all, and Real Men like their women fat! It made as much sense to her as one plus one equaling two. Then, with a well-aimed thrust, he shoved his cock inside of her wet, wanting vagina. It slid in very easily.
Like when she felt the crocodile’s teeth embed themselves in her leg, she let out a roar, but this one was infused with joy, pleasure, and just a tiny bit of pain, because, though his penis, big as it was, fit perfectly inside her, he had, with that expert, powerful shove, utterly annihilated her hymen.
She looked back down as the Bull withdrew his penis just enough to see how much of her blood had gotten on him. He didn’t withdraw the entire thing, but the part he had was covered in so much of her blood it was like he had been painted with it. He smiled again.
Because it means he was my First, and will be my Last. No others will ever have me, she thought to herself. I am his, forever.
Without wiping her blood off of him, he pushed his penis back inside her, and now, for the Cow, there was no pain at all, only ecstasy. Each collision of their bodies was like an orgasm unto itself, aided in no small part by the fact that the Bull’s belly was so big that it rubbed up against her clit with each of his powerful thrusts.
For the first few minutes, they only breathed in and out in unison, the space between filled with a guttural grunt from him, and a moan from her. But when he bent his head forward, opened his mouth, and stuck his muscular tongue out, she reciprocated, and they made out furiously, their tongues wrestling like two mating jungle snakes.
Then, when he pulled his head back, ending their kissing, any disappointment she felt was quickly done away with when she saw that he had done it only so that he could remove one of his hands from the underside of her thigh, and use it to grab, hard, onto her belly. This triggered another wave of pleasure inside her, but she wasn’t sure exactly why. Was it just because her stomach was now an erogenous zone, or was it more psychological, the product of her enjoyment over how he simply did what he wanted to her, without even thinking of asking for permission? She wasn’t exactly sure until he moved the hand away, and then smacked her belly with it, causing her gut to jiggle and undulate like a waterbed. After that, she was pretty sure it was both.
She was content for this first encounter to remain a missionary-only affair – they had the entire rest of their lives to try out every sex position they could think of – but, apparently, he was not! Without any kind of verbal command or indication, he moved his hand from her belly and used it to roll her over on her side, so that her left leg was up against his head, and her big stomach was now pooling onto the ground next to her.
Now, he was penetrating even deeper, so far that he felt like he could reach her very brain with his glans, and she could feel that sense of heat in her lower abdomen begin to grow more and more intense. It wasn’t exactly a mystery to her what it was – she was building towards an orgasm, her first ever as a female. She was looking forward to it, obviously, but could not do so unconditionally, because she was worried about the Bull. She could not cum before him, no matter what. Either he blew before she did, or they did so at the same time, but there was no scenario where she came and he didn’t. This meant so much to her that she would forgo having her own orgasm if that’s what it took for him to have his satisfaction. Until he gave her children, he was her number one priority. Her own well-being was now distant second.
This devotion extended to every aspect of their relationship. She would give him sex whenever he desired, no matter if they had just done it, or if she felt like she was too tired to do anything else. He would be allowed to have as many wives as he wanted, human or hippo (though the idea of more big beautiful hippo women around admittedly excited her more, not that it was up to her.Was the offer of the Handmaidens still on the table? ). She would give him as many children as he wanted: she would pump them out for as long as he wanted them, and for as long as she was capable of giving them to him. She would gladly even kill for him
Total Compliance.
Total Submission.
Total Devotion
With a grunt, the Bull pulled out of the Cow, leaving an empty feeling inside her that she quickly found she hated more than anything else she could think of.
“All fours, baby. Stick that fat ass up in the air for me,” he commanded.
Gloria complied post haste, and when he reentered her now, he was seemingly, somehow, penetrating even deeper than he had been before. Without even making the conscious decision to do so, she let out a long, low moan.
Mota Mota, in response, smacked both of her huge ass cheeks, causing the flesh on both to ripple like the surface of the water of the nearby river was ( this was because each collision of Mota Mota’s belly and Gloria's ass was inducing a kind of mini-earthquake that also made nearby birds take flight and a herd of elephants start pacing anxiously in a circle).
But now with this new position, Gloria, her head pressing up against the slope that led down to the water, was seriously in danger of cumming before her husband did. She could not let that happen.
“Not just yet, baby,” he told her, as if he could read her mind. “We only cum at the same time, from here on out. I’ll make damn sure of it.”
She didn’t think it was possible, but Gloria’s love for him deepened even more.
“And no talk of our lives before this night, ever,” he continued, as he rubbed his hands over the expanse of her grey ass. “That never happened, as far as we’re concerned. I’ve always been Moto Moto, and you’ve always been Gloria. Anything else is forbidden. I don’t want you even thinkin’ ‘bout it. Got that?”
“Yes, sir,” Gloria replied, in between rasped breaths. Faintly, she marveled at how he knew, without being told, the same name she had already adopted for herself. His new name, though, was news to her. But she liked it very much.
Moto Moto moved his right hand from her right ass cheek and began to run it around the rim of her wide, thick asshole, which was not unlike a dark grey donut.
“What else?” he asked.
Gloria responded by stating the pledges that had hitherto only existed within the confines of her mind. When she was done, Moto Moto grunted in agreement, and Gloria detected him speeding up his thrusting a bit.
“Fart,” he ordered, while still fingering the edges of her anus, and Gloria pushed one out that was so powerful she was almost surprised he wasn’t physically blown backwards by it.
Moto Moto took a deep breath in through his wide nostrils, and let out a joyful whoop.
“Goddamn, baby,” he exclaimed. “That smells fuckin’ good! Try it yourself!”
Gloria obeyed, breathing in her own stench. Of course, her husband was exactly correct!
“You too, King,” she pleaded, looking back over her shoulder as best she could to see his big body behind her (he might as well have been the moon itself, descended to Earth; he loomed so large behind her). “I need to smell you too!”
Moto Moto smiled mischievously, and let out his own gas, which compared to Gloria’s Atomic Bomb was no less than a Hydrogen Bomb. For a second, as it percolated into the air, they could only smell Moto Moto’s alone (and it was every bit as delectable as Gloria’s), before the two mixed, and became a new scent far, far greater than the sum of its parts.
They each consumed this hybrid musk greedily, until they had sucked up every last bit, leaving only the smells of Wild Africa in its place.
Moto Moto’s breathing was beginning to get shallower, Gloria could hear.
Good, she thought. That means he’s going to cum soon. I can’t imagine how much will come out of those big round testicles of his! Probably at least a gallon of semen! Will it be enough to get me pregnant? I hope so!
Just then, Moto Moto pulled out again.
“You’re going on top for this last bit,” he said.
He plopped onto his back, and Gloria got up off her knees and strode over to where he lay, her immense thighs rubbing against one another. She took his hard cock, still soaked in her blood and other juices, in her right hand, and maneuvered herself onto it. Then she lowered herself down.
Now they were rutting in the cowgirl position, their huge bellies pressed together to the point it would have been difficult for a voyeur to tell where Moto Moto ended, and Gloria began. Moto Moto reached up and began playing with her dinner plate-sized nipples, until each one was hard enough for his satisfaction, while Gloria grasped his pecs, feeling the sheer muscle-infused power each encased within them.
Gloria, as she bounced up and down on her mate, looked up again at the stars above them. Before, when he had gazed upon them, it had been in the throes of despair and helplessness, when she had relegated herself to death, having convinced herself in that moment that it was the better alternative than to keep on living in this form.
Now, she wanted nothing more than to live a long and fruitful life with her husband, Moto Moto, to be with him for as long as she possibly could. Indeed, in that moment, the infinitude of the sky that served as backdrop for the crystallization of their union even seemed to pale in comparison to the depth of love and devotion she felt for him.
It was just then, as she mused over the relative inadequacy of the very Heavens when measured against her and her husband’s relationship, that it finally happened.
As promised, they came at the same time, each letting out a primal roar that, like their farts, mixed together, becoming a guttural, near-deafening declaration of their ownership of this land, along with every man and beast that resided within it.
In response, the sleepy Savannah came alive, and, in each of their own ways, pledged their fealty to their new King and Queen.
Birds shrieked and beat their wings.
Elephants trumpeted and stamped their front feet.
Lions roared from their rocky perches.
Antelope awoke and began running in large concentric circles.
Zebras whinnied and kicked at the dust.
Hyenas cackled from the bush.
Crocodiles thrashed in the river.
Monkeys hooted and swung from branch to branch in excited delirium.
Chimpanzees bounced up and down on their knuckles and bared their teeth.
And back in the village, where this had all begun, every member of the tribe, having waited with bated breath for this very signal, erupted into a cacophony of song and dance. They had just finished counting the dead – seven, it turned out – that had been crushed to death when Gloria had made her frenzied exit earlier. But they did not hold it against her: she was scared, after all, and, when you thought about it, what were these seven dead when measured against the lives she would save acting as their Guardian? And how many new children would be able to be born, that otherwise would not, because they would not have to worry about rival tribes raiding and taking them as prisoners?
In light of that calculation, they decided their sacrifice was well made. They’d compose new songs to honor their memories.
Back by the water, the simultaneous orgasm stretched on. Moto Moto, eyes shut and teeth clenched, was grabbing Gloria’s stomach with both of his hands, while Gloria had her head thrown back, her tongue lolling out of her mouth to better taste the crisp night air. Moto Moto was squeezing her belly so hard it almost hurt, but she kind of liked it.
And she could feel every throb of Moto Moto’s cock as it, with the aid of his clenching balls (Gloria could feel them too, as high up as they were, rubbing against the very outer edge of her ass), moved load after load up through the length of his penis, out of his glans, and into her vagina. She wasn’t sure if it was literally a gallon’s worth, but it certainly felt like it!
“Get me pregnant!” she practically screamed at him, and when she finally felt the spasms inside her cease, she collapsed onto him, and he moved his hands from her belly to her ass, to feel its pleasant coolness as they lazily kissed one another in the waning moments of their coitus.
With a satisfied exhale, Gloria moved up just enough for Moto Moto’s penis to fall out of her, and she rolled over to her back. Immediately, cum began leaking out of her and onto the river bank, creating a miniature version of the former, albeit a very white and very sticky one.
She reached over, past his sphere-like belly, and began playing with his dense pubic hair, itself still soaked in the same potent combination of blood and organic lubricant that his softening penis was. Moto Moto slid his right arm under her neck and over her shoulder, and teased the nipple of her right breast.
Moto Moto assured Gloria that there would be no hard feelings back at the village. Yes, she had trampled several members when she ran out of there – he assumed they were dead, based on the broken, crumpled bodies he had seen out of the corners of his eyes as he had pursued her – but he was confident they would understand, and forgive her accordingly. And, if not, well, he would just have to make them understand
At this Gloria felt a sudden onrush of metaphorical butterflies in her stomach. It was quickly becoming obvious to her that any association between her husband and violence was, for her, an active turn-on. But she supposed that was a good thing, considering their new roles as Tribe Guardians. She suspected there would be a lot of blood spilling in the near future, until their Domain understood where things stood with their new rulers.
With that last bit squared away, they got up, and hand in hand, walked back across the Savannah, and to their new home, talking all the while, and only about their future. The only time they stopped was to have sex again, in the doggystyle position, under a baobab tree, with Gloria’s head up against its thick trunk, and Moto Moto using one of its low-hanging branches to better give him leverage as he slammed into her. (Truth be told, Gloria had still felt satisfied from their first romp, but Moto Moto had said he was horny again, and that was all that really mattered.)
But something curious did happen during this second, impromptu session. At one point, Gloria looked over and could see the hint of something peeking out from behind the Baobab tree. It wasn’t organic, that was for sure, but it took a second for her to place it.
It was, she realized, the tattered remains of their tent and sleeping bags. In their anxiety to retrieve the raw human clay that would become their sacred Guardians, the tribe must have torn them to shreds. But looking at them now, she felt no connection or affection to the objects themselves or what they represented in the least. Now, they were nothing but curiosities, artifacts leftover from a distant time that held no purchase now. It didn’t even occur to her to point them out to Moto Moto; they had been rendered so utterly irrelevant.
But she forgot all about them anyway with the sudden onset of her second orgasm as a woman. It did not quite compare to the first – she suspected none ever would – but it was wonderful all the same, and, Moto Moto, keeping to his word, came at the same time. They both screamed yet again, and Gloria, without actually meaning to, punched a hole in the trunk of the Baobab tree in the fit of her ecstasy.
Like last time, it took a few minutes for Moto Moto to finish discharging into her, and, when he was done, he pulled himself out with a grunt, letting his seed spill out of her and onto the ground. So much was already coming out that it was hard to believe she wouldn’t get pregnant from at least one of these loads!
Moto Moto came up beside her and bent down so he could inspect the hole in the Baobao tree that she had accidentally made. In this hunched-over position, his belly almost touched the ground.
Moto Moto whistled in appreciation as he surveyed the damage.
“Damn, girl!” he exclaimed.
“The tree’s not going to die, right?” she asked, genuinely worried. If it did die, she wouldn’t be starting out her new career as Stewardess of the Land very well.
“Nah, she’ll be okay,” Moto Moto said, patting a damaged part of the tree just next to the hole.Y’all don’t got to worry about that none.”
With that, he took her hand, and they started walking again. Above them, the blackness was starting to fade with the encroaching appearance of the sun, though for the time being it was nothing but a glint on the horizon, a little to the West of the natural marker that was Mt. Kilimanjaro.
As they arrived back at the village, their human charges singing and dancing in ecstatic celebration, Gloria looked back the way they had come. As she suspected, and was pleased to see had happened, the cum that had leaked out of her from their successive rounds of sex had created a shining trail through the Savannah, marking the route from the sacred place where her life had changed, unambiguously, for the better. The image of it, nearly glowing as it trailed off into and beyond the horizon, was very special to her, and she returned to it frequently in the centuries to come. Never in times of hardship, because there were no such times to come, but only to enhance what was already wonderful.