The Jungle Fever
The Jungle Fever
Guy sat down on a mossy rock and looked out over the valley before him as he caught his breath. He wiped the sweat off his furry brow. It was blistering hot and so humid you could take a swim without even jumping in the water.
He pulled out his heavily-fingered topographic map of the region and spread it out on his lap. By his own reckoning, Guy was fairly sure he had passed from Rwanda to Zaire in the last few hours. African borders had a nasty habit of becoming rather fluid - most, like the one he'd just crossed, weren't even marked.
Guy James was a raccoon with a Montreal Expos cap on his head, a rifle slung over his shoulder, and a camera hanging around his neck. He was following the footsteps of a Icelandic anthropologist who had trekked into the area where he now found himself fifty years ago. The Icelander had been alone, and Guy was repeating what he had done as closely as possible. That was what Guy's editors at Canadian Geographic had asked for.
The only problem was that the anthropologist - a wolf by the name of Jorn Ericksson - had gone into the jungle and disappeared. Guy was nearing the end of the route posterity had recoded Ericksson taking. Soon he would have to improvise his way forward or just turn around go back home.
Guy put his map away and pulled his his notebook. He flipped through the first few pages, trying to re-acquaint himself with Ericksson's motivations. It had been several weeks since he'd thought about what Ericksson was doing so deep into the middle of nowhere; he'd just been blindly following his map and taking as many pictures as he could. This was Livingstone country, where explorers going missing was to be expected.
Guy just hoped he wasn't going to be the next one.
According to his notes from a research session in the library of the University of Iceland, where Ericksson taught and did what other things professors do, Guy had found that the professor believed in the existence of a lost African civilization. It was something Guy had dismissed as ridiculous at the time he'd first read it. Now, in the middle of the jungles of East Africa, he was only just rediscovering that little detail.
Guy was a hands-on reporter, not a bookworm; he hated doing research.
As he read the words he'd written so many months ago, Guy began to suspect that Ericksson had gone looking for the lost tribe or civilization or whatever he'd talked about in his personal papers. The professor had proposed what he was looking for lay in the region where Guy now was. Ultimately to his doom, Ericksson had gone after it - with no guide, no weapons, and no experience of his own.
Ericksson lasted almost five weeks in the jungle before his trail went cold. Guy was impressed. But there was no doubt in his mind that Ericksson had died many years ago; where precisely, no one knew.
Several trying hours later, Guy was hacking his way through the thick, green jungle with a machete. It was slow going. The terrain was rough and the map didn't really help him find a way through the almost-impenetrable undergrowth. Although Guy heard birds calling from somewhere in the distance, he hadn't seen any for a while.
Guy stopped dead and looked at his map. Checking his compass, he found he was right where he was supposed to be. Problem was, Guy was now at the very end of Ericksson's recorded trail.
There was no lost tribe. There was no missing civilization. There was just lots and lots of jungle for hundreds of kilometres in every direction.
Guy sighed and looked around. He snapped a few pictures to prove he'd been where he would say. Then he tried to decide what to do next. He found he had a hard time thinking over the sound of running water nearby.
Running water? Guy checked his map again. There were no rivers or streams marked, though that wasn't saying much since not much was marked to begin with. Guy immediately decided to go looking for whatever was making the noise.
Walking in the direction of the water, Guy quickly found himself on a steep slope. A steep, unstable slope that couldn't be seen unless you were looking for it. Guy quickly found himself tumbling and bouncing roughly and painfully down into a deep gully. At the bottom, he hit his head hard on a tree root. He passed out.
Guy edged an eye open. He was promptly blinded by the sun. He snapped the eye closed again.
"You're awake." Guy heard a voice behind him, a deep gravelly voice. Then he realized his head was on something soft. Obviously, someone had found him.
Guy felt the rim of a container being pressed to his lips. "Drink," he was told. Guy drank. He sipped something sweet and sticky. He assumed it was some kind of fruit juice before passing out again.
When Guy woke up again, he was in bed. He tossed off the covers and stood up. It was only when he felt dirt under his feet that he realized he wasn't at home in his own apartment. He was still in Africa.
Guy had a headache. A throbbing, pounding heading that felt like an anvil in a clothes dryer. He reached up and felt his forehead. Instead of gray fur, he found a bandage tightly wrapped around his head. Now he knew why he had a headache.
Guy looked around. He was in a thatched roof hut that could have been anywhere south of the Sahara. His belongings had been nearly arranged on the floor by the bed. The bed, it turned out, had been hewn out of wood by paw.
"Monsieur James?"
Guy nearly jumped out of his skin. But his head hurt too much for that. He turned around slowly.
"How are you feeling?"
A hulking gorilla much taller than Guy was standing in front of him, wearing a loincloth that looked more like a thong. For a second Guy thought he was about to get beaten senseless, but then he realized that the gorilla was clearly concerned about his health. The oddest thing was that he spoke French.
Zaire may have been Mother Belgium's bastard child, but Guy knew he was far enough into the bush that finding someone who spoke French would be like trying to make base metal into gold.
"How do you know my name?"
The gorilla shrugged. "Passport. Come outside."
Guy was led outside. He found himself in a clearing at the bottom of a deep valley. A cooking fire was at one end. A pond with steam coming off it was at the other. Between them were about ten to fifteen huts. The village was populated by gorillas.
"What's your name?" Guy asked.
"Kibala," the gorilla replied. "What were you doing in this part of the jungle? No one ever comes this way. We found you injured and gave you assistance; you were very lucky."
"I was retracing the steps of someone called Ericksson."
Kibala smiled.
"You know him?"
"Yes. Our history tells of such a man. He came here by accident and chose to stay. We buried him on a ridge near here."
"Why would he choose to stay?"
"This is a very special place."
Kibala brought guy over to the pond. Guy almost choked when he saw the water. It was bright purple.
"This looks like heavy metal contamination!" Guy exclaimed. "I've seen it before: smelter runoff near Bombay. But what's it doing here? In the middle of nowhere?"
"Many years ago, a meteorite crashed into this area. This valley is its crater. This is a hot spring. The colour comes from the meteor deep underground, leaking it out.
"Isn't it poisonous?"
"Taste it."
"What?"
"Taste it."
"Okay, okay." Never one to disrespect local customs, Guy slipped a paw through the water and slurped up a mouthful. It tasted bizarrely and floridly like fruit juice. The water was also very warm, but not burning hot. Guy felt it run down his throat and pleasantly fill up his belly, even though he'd only had a little.
"The hell?" Guy wondered aloud.
"Now you are one of us," Kibala said, his face turning serious. "This water has healing properties, powerful ones. That is how you survived. But it causes more unusual changes in the body as well - though I assure you it isn't poisonous. Far from it."
"What do you mean?"
"You'll find out soon. But now that you are one of us, you may not want to leave."
"Why? I still want to leave. It doesn't change anything."
"If you leave, you'll always want to return. So why bother? You will always want to return."
"I'll bother. I have a deadline to meet. That's important. My editor will come all the way out here to skin my hide if I don't make it."
They returned to the hut they had started from. Guy sat down on the bed and rubbed his forehead. His headache was quieting down; he felt better. "Are you the ones who Ericksson was looking for?" he asked.
"Yes. Why do you ask?" Kibala queried.
"I'm trying to retrace Ericksson's footsteps. Not to find what he found, but to understand the journey he took. I work for a magazine in Canada, one that deals with anthropology. I guess I am lucky: better to be found by gorillas than guerrillas."
Kibala ignored the joke. "Soon you will start feeling the effects of the water. It takes some time, but it will happen-"
Just then, Guy noticed his compass. He picked it up off the ground. The needle was spinning and jerking around crazily.
"What the-"
"I'm afraid compasses are quite useless here. The meteorite creates a strong magnetic field over the area. That's how this valley has remained unknown to the outside world."
"So we're swimming in a soup of electrons. But, I wonder, how do you speak French?"
"I studied medicine at the university in Kinshasa. I left, but I returned as soon as I was able. I had to."
"Why?"
Kibala sighed. "This valley is paradise. Not because of the physical things it offers, but because of the pleasure it offers."
"Pleasure?"
"The water is an incredibly strong aphrodisiac. Soon you will want to have lots and lots of sex. There are only males here. The water only affects males."
"What!" Guy shouted.
"You will experience pleasure that is like nothing else on this planet. It is not of this earth. It is heavenly. You will enjoy it so much you will not want to leave. That is what happens to all who make it here."
"How soon?"
"Very soon." Kibala pointed at Guy's crotch, where there was a very large bulge in his cargo pants. Guy gasped. "Take off your clothes. You can't fight it."
Guy suddenly felt dizzy. The hut spun in front of his eyes. For a few seconds, blue spots flashed across his field of vision. He felt himself falling into Kibala's arms.
After blinking a few times, the dizziness went away. Kibala was unbottoning Guy's safari shirt. Feeling his erect cock throbbing desperately in his underwear, Guy just groaned. Coming up between his legs, Guy felt Kibala's member pushing for attention; it was a huge thing, almost massive.
Guy felt detached as his clothes were removed by Kibala. He was no longer in control of his body, and figured Kibala was probably in the same state of mind. He was horny to the point where it was like being drugged. Guy's brain may have had other idea, but his body knew exactly what it wanted: gorilla cock.
Once they were both naked, Kibala took Guy to another hut. This one was larger than all the rest. Were he in his normal state of mind, Guy's jaw would have dropped in shock. Instead, his heart fluttered madly in anticipation. The hut was full of naked male gorillas having all kinds of sex, desperately trying to get off as hard and as fast as possible.
Guy was gently led into the middle of the hut, where there was a wooden table waiting. Guy was told to climb into it, and he did so enthusiastically. He quickly realized to his delight that the table was just at crotch height - perfect.
After putting Guy's legs through grass rope loops hanging from the ceiling to spread them. Once Guy's tail had been secured out of the way, the gorillas got right down to business. The first one wasted no time in shoving his cock into Guy's mouth from above. Guy nearly choked on the huge piece of flesh, but he kept going and began to suck as hard as he could. Quantity was the goal; quality had been rendered irrelevant.
Another one immediately grabbed Guy's testicles and began sucking his cock. Guy had had plenty of sex before, but this was like nothing else. Kibala had been right; it was unearthly. The pleasure was like hot maple syrup being poured over one's body, without even having to orgasm. When a third gorilla rammed his cock into Guy's ass and began jackhammering his prostate, it didn't hurt.
Guy didn't have time to notice that the gorillas, whatever their names were, were all impeccable male specimens. They were muscular, but not grotesquely so. Instead, he just closed his eyes, thrust his hips up into the mouth of whoever was sucking him and enjoyed it.
The orgasms came so hard and so fast Guy couldn't tell them apart. Most sex was like being in a wave pool. This was more like a waterfall. Guy didn't feel like just one or two places were being stimulated; this was like having his whole body turned into a giant erogenous zone.
Guy was so into what was going on he didn't notice when the gorillas took turns using him. The ramming in his ass and the cocks in his mouth - not to mention the mouths on his cock - blurred. Everything just felt burning hot, not just because of the weather.
Eventually, Guy felt himself being lifted off the table and put on the floor. More gorillas surrounded him, offering up their cocks. Guy felt disappointed he could only suck one at a time. And he was doing it while riding with someone else's cock in his ass and someone else yet again still sucking his own cock. As phase two continued, Guy could feel so much hot semen spraying out and landing on him he almost thought it was raining.
It didn't take long for so much semen to find its way to the ground everyone was soon mixing cum with brown mud. That didn't stop the gorillas. They slipped and fell and rolled and wrestled on the ground unashamed and unbridled. Guy was right in the middle and enjoying every second of it.
Everyone wanted their way with him and Guy was more than willing to let them have it. When more than one gorilla wanted their cock in his ass, they didn't fight. Instead they tried to jam both in at the same time. Guy couldn't tell whether they were successful or not, but he hoped they were.
During a lull in the orgy, Kibala and two other gorillas Guy didn't know carried him out of the hut. They took him to the edge of the jungle where they were just out of sight of the village. The gorillas held Guy and his legs up, making him ready for Kibala who went between them.
"It's been so long since I've had someone all to myself," Kibala told Guy.
Guy didn't respond. He didn't have to. Kibala did it for him by slipping into his cum-drenched ass. Kibala didn't seem to be as frenzied as the other gorillas had been. He took things a little slower, enjoying the moment. Guy did the same.
While Kibala was pushing into Guy, the gorilla behind him holding up Guy's legs rammed his cock into Kibala. Guy felt a little sorry for the gorilla behind him, who was without stimulation. But he didn't have to.
After he came and shot his load into Guy's ass, Kibala let the gorilla behind Guy have his way. This one was frenzied like the others, but it lasted less than a minute. After having his butt filled up once more, Guy again felt Kibala's slow, steady thrusts inside him.
Finally after several turns had been taken, Guy felt the four of them collapse into a messy pile in the jungle. The grass and underbrush provided a soft cushion for them. Having given up on anal and oral, Guy was jerked off by Kibala and the other two gorillas a few more times. Finally, mercifully, their energy was used up.
As he laid back on Kibala's warm, solid chest Guy looked up at the sky. The sun was setting. He had lost track of time. The orgy had probably lasted a few hours, he now Guy was completely and absolutely spend. At long last, his supercharged balls could produce no more and he dry came.
"I want to go home," Guy said to Kibala as he rested, almost in a whisper. "Can I go home? Please?"
"Yes," Kibala said softly, "you can. But eventually, you will want to come back."
"This is just too much. It's too much. Too-"
Guy's breathing slowed. He was exhausted and overwhelmed. He closed his eyes and felt Kibala wrap his arms around him tenderly. The sticky semen and mud covering his fur felt like a nice warm blanket. A few seconds later, he was sound asleep.
Several weeks later, Guy was in the dark room at Canadian Geographic headquarters. One of the technicians, a young fox, was examining an image with the enlarger. "You wanted to see me?" Guy asked.
"Yes, I did," the technician replied. "Have a look at that," he said, pointing to the enlarger.
Guy looked at the image being projected down onto the countertop. It wasn't easy to see in the dark red light, but it showed Guy in a very compromising position with not one, not two but several gorillas. "Your first few rolls are fine, but then I get to the rest of them and they're all like this. There must be hundreds of shots of you and, er, them. What happened?"
"I don't know. I obviously didn't take them. When I finally got my camera back from them, all the film had been exposed. It was only when I got back to Canada that I found out what was on the film."
"So you're not denying it?"
"How can you deny that?" Guy said, pointing at the image again. The odd look on Guy's face wasn't embarrassment - it seemed to be pride more than anything else.
"You're right. But the point is, there's so many of these that we don't have enough good images to put with your story."
"Which story?"
"The one about Jorn Ericksson."
"That one? Didn't you hear - I'm not doing that one anymore. It got scrubbed."
"So, what are you doing?"
"A story on the mating rituals of certain Rift Valley tribes. Print those photos and send them up to the layout room."
"What? All of them? There must be, um, hundreds here, sir. All the same."
"You heard me. No one can fault me for getting into my work. It was paws-on research, the best kind. Do it."
"Er, okay. Yes, sir. You got it."
The End