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This is part of a longer commission written by Joshiah https://joshiah.sofurry.com/ Or check out the author's patreon at ?https://www.patreon.com/Joshiah

This is an effort to collect all the parts into a single location for easy reading.

Chapter 4

Steven Richards was settling in nicely in his new home in Stonebury, if what he was doing could be called settling.

A couple weeks into the school year, no one seemed to suspect a thing about him, and he was able to calm his nerves without the assistance of a glass of bourbon at dinner every night. Just seeing his family and knowing that they were still safe was enough for him.

The same couldn't be said for his loving family, however. Just because they all loved and cared for each other didn't mean that they were blind to what they were missing out on.

Tabitha was still especially bitter about her situation, and when she wasn't hiding out in her room, she was wandering around the town and making a half-hearted effort to meet new people, much to the chagrin of her father.

"This college has an ice cream shop?" Tabitha asked her new friend, Sarah Walton. Being a typical small town, Stonebury didn't have the kind of exciting night life and 'cool' hangouts that Tabitha was looking for, at her age. Though the downtown area had a nice, old fashioned feel and was well maintained, it didn't do anything to offset how frustrated she was with her situation.

The local college, however, was a step above the rest of the town. A building that was clearly built in recent years, Stonebury Community was the school that Tabitha was forced to transfer to, at least for the current semester. Tall, wide walls made of glass, a support structure of exposed steel and mixed accents of old and new architecture gave the building an extremely modern appearance; it was the kind of place that Tabitha always dreamed she would end up going to school one day.

"Yeah, the food here is pretty tasty. Most colleges don't have a food court like this," Sarah confirmed. "You want a scoop? I'm buying."

There was nothing so unusual about Sarah Walton, at least in plain daylight, to arouse Tabitha to a point of suspicion. She was starting to think that all of her nerves were at the behest of her overbearing father, and perhaps, she was just getting through the rigors of being a new person in a new place.

She knew how serious her father was about work, however, and remembered his advice about the local dairy products. "Oh, n-no. That's okay. I'm lactose-intolerant."

Sarah was a friendly girl, and she smiled before shaking her head. "No worries! They've got soy vanilla, if you'd like."

The utter lack of cheese, milk, ice cream and other wonderful dairy delights was starting to get to Tabitha, who couldn't remember the last time she had a refreshing bowl of ice cream. "Well, I...I guess, if you're sure. I really appreciate it."

"Not a problem!" Sarah replied cheerfully. Her fingers were crossed in her pocket as she pulled some cash from within and ordered a pair of single scoop bowls. "I know how hard it can be, being the new girl in a strange place."

"You mean you weren't born here?"

"Nope! My folks and I just moved out here last year, actually," Sarah confirmed. "My dad wasn't really sure about the place, but everyone ended up being so friendly that we decided to stay. Once I'm able to afford my own place, I'll probably get myself a flat downtown!"

Concerns were fading away slowly as the handsome gentleman running the ice cream stand handed Tabitha a bowl. "Thank you," she answered quietly, before turning with Sarah to find an open table. "I can't believe you'd want to live in the same place as your folks, though. If my mom and dad end up staying here, I'm gonna move as far away as humanly possible."

Sarah giggled as she sat down on the opposite side of a small table with Tabitha. "Oh, come on. Your parents can't be that bad...you're probably just a little stir crazy from being stuck inside the house all of the time."

"It is kinda hard to find things to do around here," Tabitha admitted. "And it seems like there's way more girls than guys...that boy at the ice cream stand is the best looking guy I've seen since we moved in!"

"You just have to know where to look," Sarah pointed out. "But maybe you come from a bigger place with a wider selection. I think there's plenty of lookers here..."

"Like who?"

Sarah darted her eyes to the left and right before letting a wry grin crawl across her lips. "Well, if you don't mind me saying so, I'm kinda into older guys...and not that I'd ever do anything, but...your dad is hot."

Tabitha was barely through her first spoonful, and she was nearly forced to spit it out as she chuckled. "Y-you're kidding, right? My dad? The boring, hard-nosed, no nonsense guy who won't stop treating me like I'm 12?"

"Like I said, older guys really get to me," Sarah confessed. "Besides, he's got that whole responsibility thing going for him, and I like a man who can take control. He seems like he doesn't take any guff...it's just kinda hot. You know what I mean, right?"

"What? You mean that I think my dad is hot?"

Sarah shook her head. "I didn't mean him in specific, necessarily...just that kind of guy, but since you mentioned it, have you?"

"Have I what?" Tabitha asked, able to feel warmth creeping into her cheeks as the conversation with her only acquaintance became entirely too intimate.

"Have you ever thought about what it would be like to be with him?"

Tabitha stuck her tongue out and made a disgusted gesture. "Oh, heavens no! That's...that's just weird, Sarah!"

"I guess I'm from a more liberal family. It's kinda weird, but it's natural too, y'know? Sometimes people have fantasies that they shouldn't."

"Well, sure, but not about their own fathers!"

Sarah cocked a brow and leaned on her elbow. Her look was piercing right through Tabitha, as if she knew something about the newcomer that she didn't even know of herself. "Not even once, huh?"

Tabitha stuffed a large scoop of ice cream in her mouth, quietly hoping to get a brain freeze and change the subject. When that failed, however, she let out a quiet sigh. "O-okay, like one time, but it wasn't anything serious. My dad's just in really good shape, and I've never gotten to date a guy like that before."

"See? That wasn't so hard...and there's nothing wrong with that!" Sarah claimed.

Tabitha offered a weak, stammering "Y-yeah..." in reply, before glancing to the side.

Concerned and making a small frown, Sarah reached across the table. "Hey; it's no big deal. Do you...uh...do you like to read?"

The change of subject was welcome for Tabitha, who glanced back and offered a timid nod.

"That's great! There's a book making the rounds, and I think they've still got a few copies at the campus library. You should really go give it a read!"

"Now that is something I could discuss," Tabitha replied. "What's it called?"

"Connecting Dangerously With The Natives. It's a really exciting, kinda creepy book. I bet you'd finish the whole thing in one sitting!"

**

Because of their late arrival in the town of Stonebury, Tabitha wasn't able to register for a lot of classes at the local college, leaving her with ample free time, and no desire to find a part time job.

She had a new book to try, however, and with everyone else out for the day, she'd happily skipped up to her room on the second floor and crashed right into bed, feeling no concern for how early in the day it was.

That was a few hours before, and though she made it easily through the first couple chapters of the book, she was beginning to struggle, as the content matter of the pages became more and more mature with each passing paragraph.

"Good Lord...they really stripped her down and made her watch her own mother and brother have sex? These people are so twisted...it's s-so wrong!" Tabitha was speaking to herself, but keeping her voice to a light whisper as the moon began a slow ascent into the night sky. "I really hope that she finds a way out of this...there has to be something that she can do!"

The horrifying events within the book chronicled the story of a family that was on their way to a small island after the second world war. An affluent family that was quite well to do, they sought to use their grand fortune to help the natives of the island and aid in the recovery efforts after war time struggles decimated good portions of the population.

A pair of young adult siblings were separated from their parents, however, and while mother and brother were forced to have sex with each other in some kind of a twisted ritual, the daughter was strapped to a pole and forced to watch the entire event, as if she was being put through some horrible form of torture.

Things only got worse for the family as the father, presumed dead, was revealed to be alive, though it was tough to claim that he was doing well, and the daughter, left untouched for so long, was being exposed to the same corrupted juices that transformed her mother in a grotesque creature of lust.

"We've found her!" Tabitha read the passages aloud, as she gazed over the part of the story where her tired, but pure father managed to find her. The mother and brother had become slaves to the island and couldn't be saved, but the partially transformed daughter was taken down to the brig of a large sailing vessel, captained by none other than her poor, tortured father.

He knew of the fate of his family, and now, all that he had left was his own flesh and blood daughter, even if she didn't look anything like him, anymore.

"Though his daughter was reclaimed, she was barely human any longer. Her breasts were full, swollen and drooping with the weight of their corrupted milk, and her sex was constantly engorged with the heat and essence of lust, leaving it to drip a slow and desperate stream of feminine arousal...w-wow. They were able to write stuff like this back in the 50's?"

Somewhat disgusted, but too entranced to stop reading, Tabitha turned the page, and her eyes went wide as she read through the details of their encounter. The father, untouched by the corrupting hand of the island, felt compelled to visit his daughter, who was locked up in a cage in the brig for her own safety. The natives of the island riddled her body with a sexual need, but it was left unfulfilled, causing her to become furious with unmitigated frustration.

The sight of her own father was only adding fuel to the fire, as she lunged forward in her cave at his presence, spreading her large, full breasts around the bars and pushing them out so that her father might be tempted to touch them.

"I wish I could do more to help you, my dear."

"I need no cure, father. I only need company...it's so terribly lonely in the hull of the ship, and no one visits me, except to bring me a meal."

Foolishly, her father approached, feeling a paternal love for his daughter, even then. The moment he was in range, she reached through the cage and gripped him by the hem of his shirt. He tried to pull back, but her body was possessed with unparalleled sexual energy, and from her own father, she stole a deep, passionate kiss, one that was unwilling at first, and slowly, he began to give into it.

Tabitha, in disbelief at the words, and at herself, began slipping a hand down into her own panties as she curled up under the covers. Her fingertips swirled around the tiny nub of her clit as she read about how the daughter tried in vain to get her father to suck the milk right from her breasts, and when she couldn't, she smeared a handful of it across his face, forcing him to accept the scent of her fluids.

"W-we...we can't do this!" the father protested, though his daughter had different ideas. She gripped his trembling arm by the wrist and pulled his fingers to her bare, oozing cunt, and began grinding against his open palm until he came to his senses and recoiled. "This isn't right! We have to stop!"

Hanging her head in shame, the daughter turned away from her father and began to weep, crying over her lack of self control.

Tabitha dealt with the same issue, as small, whimpering pants began to escape her lips. Reading the incestuous story was filling her with an overwhelming lust, and her clean, white sheets were stained with a small puddle of liquid desire as her fingers continued to probe deeper and deeper into her womanhood...

Connecting Dangerously with the Natives 1

War is a terrible, terrible event. It makes people do things that they never would have thought possible, and unfortunately, that isn't always for the best.

My parents, bless their hearts, decided that they would try to make the world a better place after the war was over. As I date this journal, July 12, 1952, the war has been over for some time, but no doubt, large portions of the world are still reeling from it. As soon as my brother and I were old enough to take care of ourselves, our parents left, taking their affluence with them, in the hopes that they might be able to restore some of those areas that were so downtrodden.

We haven't seen or heard from them since they left, two weeks ago. My brother and I were forced to take a different boat, but we decided that there was no point in our staying in a large, empty house with nothing to do, other than worry for their safety. It made much more sense to us to join them in their missionary work, and try to spread the good word of the Lord to those people who hadn't yet heard it.

The shoreline looks beautiful, I must admit. The water here is a crisp, tropical blue, unspoiled by the machines of war that destroyed the better part of Europe, and the air is sweet with the smell of the fruits that grow upon the island. A crosswind keeps the breeze comfortable and cool, and my brother can't stop smiling, now that we can see the shore. I'm sure that he misses mother and father even more than I do, as close to them as he was.

I'm hopeful that we'll be seeing them again, any minute.

**

The worst of all of my fears have come to light, and I'm desperately holding my pen as I write this. I fear I may not be able to write another journal entry ever again.

My brother and I came to the shoreline, and we saw a greeting party, just as we were told to expect, but our mother and father weren't present among them. There were only the islanders, who immediately captured our boat and began trying to slaughter those who we sailed over with. I can only call it a divine miracle that my brother and I escaped, but all the same, we'll need another if we're ever going to escape this cursed rock.

Horrors untold await us. These people are primitive, at best, and they speak in a language we can't understand. The island itself, while breathtaking from a distance, is actually a capsule of nightmares, floating around in the ocean...I've seen stakes with human heads stuck upon them, some with the flesh still rotting away and dripping to the painfully warm sands of the beach. The people wear little more than loincloths, and many of them look less than human, with or without the different tribal markings that adorn their flesh.

They know no sympathy, no mercy, and as far as we know, our father is already among the victims that they've claimed. Our mother, however, seems to have suffered a fate far worse than death, and I'm loathe to write of it in this journal. If this is the last memory I am of a privilege to have, I don't want to record the horrors that I saw, but perhaps if I write them down, it will help me deal with the reality.

All I can know for sure is that there is dark magic at work on this island, and whatever it is, they've inflicted it upon my mother. Her body was once slim and dainty, but now, her flesh bulges and grows out of control, and her modesty is dead and gone, as she parades around naked. My brother and I have seen her around the island, and as soon as I can identify her, I shield my eyes...my brother seems more intent on staring to confirm her identity, something that I find equal parts affectionate, and... disturbing.

We may not agree on how to approach or address her, but we agree that we have to do something, anything to save her. We're running out of options quickly, and we don't know how much longer we can hide. The overgrowth and vines are filled with small alcoves that we can use for cover, but it's only a matter of time before the islanders come and try to bring us to the same fate. The possibility is terrifying, so much so that I can scarcely hold my pen straight as I write these thoughts.

I love my mother so dearly, but if I had one last request, it would be that my body is spared from whatever wicked spell has been cast upon her. Each and every time we see her, she's gotten worse, and I fear that it will be far too late before we can do anything to help her.

Time will tell...

**

I'm losing my spirits quickly. This island drains the very sanity out of anyone unlucky enough to come across it.

We've found that my mother has a new, permanent home. It's disturbing to say the very least...she wears nothing, and it pains me to see her in such a state of undress, but perhaps worse still, enjoying the fact that men other than my father can see her in such a way. She no longer moves, and by nightfall, we've spied upon the islanders, who bring her a variety of different, exotic fruits and the meats of any wild beast that they can find. She gorges herself on the offerings, and each time she does, they bathe her in a strange liquid and chant into the late hours of the evening, sometimes until the morning sun comes up.

Now that she's no longer moving, however, my brother and I have resolved to free her. If we can make it to the edges of the island, perhaps we can find some kind of a deserted boat or vessel to escape upon, but just getting there will be a difficult task. The islanders treat her like a goddess, worshiping her very presence and treating her as if she's the mother of all of their people, and her body is taking on such a look. It pains me to write that her breasts hang in such a way that they appear to bear milk, and her most delicate regions are always...aroused, for lack of a better term.

No daughter should ever have to write such things about their own mother, but I can't speak to my brother about it. The effects of the island are getting to him, as well, and every time I bring up our mother, his expression turns feral and twisted, as if he were a rabid animal on the hunt for food. I worry that perhaps the islanders are already inflicting some kind of a spell upon him, and if the worries in my mind come to fruition, there's no doubt in my mind that both of their souls would be damned. Perhaps the Lord has mercy on those who cannot properly think, but I'm unable to know how strongly my mother resisted the urging of the islanders. If she tried as hard as she could, I wonder if that would be enough, but the way she acts around them, I fear that she simply gave herself to them, allowing them to do whatever they saw fit to her.

Perhaps it was all a sacrifice to keep our father alive. I already believe him to be dead, but he's a resourceful man, and not so easily beaten, even by overwhelming odds. The best that I can hope is that he's doing everything he can to bring help to the island...no boats have come or gone since we were marooned, and if help doesn't come soon...

...Well...I try not to think about that.

**

"Are you ready, Thomas? I don't think we'll have a better chance than this," I whisper to my brother, as we look out from our alcove. The thick, brilliantly green ferns keep us covered, and dampen the noise of our breathing.

"We have to try, Sandy. There's no telling what kind of horrible things they're doing to her...if we don't act now, we might never see our mother properly ever again."

I'm nervous, and I know it. My brother puts a comforting hand on my shoulder, but it offers me no real comfort: I know for a fact that he's already been tainted by the island. It makes me confused as to why the islanders wouldn't come after me each night, but I'm almost certain that they've been poisoning Thomas. His teeth aren't straight and squared off anymore; they're jagged, almost like fangs, and his ears turn sharper with each and every passing day. His body is lurching, and I know it isn't just from the uncomfortable position of sleeping on the ground.

Worst of all, though, I can see it in his eyes. They have a darkness to them that steals the innocence that once existed in his pale blues, and his expression carries something sinister along with it. In as much, he seems far too eager to go back and visit our mother, but if I give it everything I have, perhaps I can rescue the both of them.

"Sandy? Is...is everything all right?"

I dare not reply. The islanders have been playing us for fools the entire time, and as we stand up to depart for our mother, we find that we're already too late to escape. Holding crudely made spears, axes and knives, the islanders surround us in their lacking dress and low, feral grunts. They point their weapons at me, however, suspecting that I won't go willingly...but knowing that my brother is already their plaything.

**

I've lost track of the days, as I lay next to my mother. I have no choice; poorly made, and yet, powerful chains keep me bound to a wooden pole by her side. It's embarrassing to be near my mother in her nude state, made worse by the fact that the islanders have taken my clothing, as well...and my brother, throughout the course of several days, has only gotten worse. Both he and my mother look far from human now, save for the sexual organs that they bare, and no matter how I try to avoid seeing such things, I simply can't help it.

In passing, I heard some of the islanders speaking in what sounded like a broken English, and their words troubled me almost as much as their actions. They still pray to an old, forbidden god, and they wish to resurrect him...somehow, my mother is at the center of all of it, and they need my brother, as well. I'm merely a capture for them to ogle...a bonus, if you will, and as degrading as it is, I know my fate could be much, much worse than that.

"Don't you love your mother?" she asks my brother, as he stands at a distance. His hands, more like large, gnarled paws, run down the side of his head and scrape his skin as he tries to cover his ears, but in his new, clumsy body, they simply can't. Some part of him, a truly human part of him, is trying to resist it all, but I can see that his physical body has already given way to the spells of the islanders.

He's a horrific beast, surpassed only by my mother, who believes herself to be the most beautiful creature on the island...but I find her far from it, and praise the Lord, my brother still does, as well. "You're an ugly, wretched shell of a woman!" he cries back at her, growling in a frustration that sounds like a wild, vicious wolf. "I would never give in to the likes of you! You're my damned mother for pete's sake!"

"Keep it in the family, then," she taunts him, saying things that I can't imagine any mother ever saying to her son. It pains my ears just to hear it, and my mother can tell...she sneers down at me through a strange, twisted set of lips that no longer look human. Survival instinct is the only thing that keeps me from passing out from the horror, but I do my best to close my eyes and look away, respecting my mother, even as she has none for herself.

My brother is slipping, however. His words are steadfast, but I've seen the change in his demeanor, and with each passing day, I worry that he'll commit a sin that he can never come back from. "I don't care who you were to me...you're no mother to me now...I...I'll never give you what you want!"

His spirit is inspiring, but it's all a facade...and even if it weren't, the islanders come around every few hours and pin him down, before pouring more of that same, mysterious liquid down his throat...it looks like motor oil, and it carries a fragrance of rotten fruit with it, any time that they use it.

Each time they appear, I worry that my body will be used, and yet, they only ever gaze upon me. They have no shame in doing so, but night after night, I'm spared from what could be an even more painful punishment...I thank all that's holy that I can still preserve at least that last bit of my modesty, but how much longer will it be before one of them musters up the courage to cross that line?

What if ends up being my brother, instead?

**

The overgrowth of the tropical trees is so great that I've lost my sense of time. I wake up only when my body has rested, and I find a proper, restful sleep to be nearly impossible, with my wrists still bound to a pole, and my naked body quickly turning cold against the moist dirt of the forest floor.

I still remain fully nude, but for some reason, when I awake this time, I see that my mother has been painted with different tribal markings, and my brother has been changed, as well. His transformation from a human to a wild beast that I can't discern looks complete, and as twisted as it feels to admit, they look like a true, proper pair for each other. They're horrible, grotesque creatures, but I worry that my brother has accepted that his own birthing mother will now be the only person he can ever make love to.

A few of the islanders are gathered around, and I feel their eyes upon me like the random bugs that crawl across my skin, but the stare is short lived. Something big is going to happen, and they all want to be present for it when it does...I'm filled with regret at the same thought.

"If you just so much as give me a taste of what I desire," my mother speaks, "Then I will tell them to let the both of you go. You'll be free from the island...free to go home and start a new life for yourselves."

The offer is hollow, as much as I'm sure my brother realizes. In his current state, he'd be considered a monster on the mainland, and the Lord only knows what they would do to him when they found him. As for myself...who could I tell about what happened? Who would ever believe the words of a terrified, naked woman who claimed to see such horrible things?

It all feels helpless, as my brother takes a step closer to my sitting mother. Her legs are spread wide, and I cringe at the thought of what he's about to do, but I see him wrapping his palm around the shaft of his member...it's already erect...it's more than I can bear to watch.

"D-don't...don't do it, Thomas! You have to resist! You know this isn't right...there's no going back if you do this!"

My mother barely addresses my existence. She doesn't even look at me...her eyes, grotesque as they are, stay focused on her son, who continues to approach her. "Just the tip, my son...that's all you have to do to free your whiny little sister."

I pray that my brother won't listen to her. What little bit of hope I have left, I put into the basket of his finding out that his fate is sealed no matter what he does...the only way he can redeem himself is to stop this nightmare and deny my mother her twisted desires.

My heart sinks into the pit of my stomach as he guides the tip of his gnarled manhood into my mother's unsightly nether lips. I can see it in his expression that he thinks he can resist it, but I already know that it's too late...his expression, as far as I can see, twists up in pleasure as my mother embraces him and holds his body in close to her own. His cheek nestles into her heavy, hanging breasts, and his shaft disappears inside of her vaginal cavity with the wet, slippery sounds of sex...sounds that I wished I would never hear in such a manner.

They're ruined for me, as my brother begins to pump his hips in such a lewd manner. The islanders watch on eagerly and cheer at the incestuous coupling, while I merely sit on my knees and feel the tears gathering in the corners of my eyes. I've failed to stop my brother from making one of the worst mistakes he ever could, and perhaps worse still, he's sealed both of our fates, as I know we'll never escape the island, now.

I want to look away. I close my eyes, wince them shut tight, and pray that the display will be over sooner than later, as my mother sits back and drags her long, salivating tongue over my brother's cheek, an act of affection that seems more animal than human, but I feel a set of twisted, dirty hands grab my chin and turn my head back toward the outright act of incest. Another set of hands pries my eyes open, and though my body is theirs to ravage, they don't touch it...they merely force me to watch the event unfold, as if they think my participation is somehow necessary for the ritual to take effect. I wonder to myself about how many other families have been destroyed by this island, and much as I miss my father, I thank my lucky stars that he isn't around to witness such a terrible thing unfolding.

The sex is none too gentle, as I'm forced to see. I can't recognize my brother in his new body, but in his muscular form, he shows my mother no mercy, but her new body is tailored to take the beating. Her thighs are thick, her hips are wide, and as much as I hate to think of it, I'm sure that her sex is deep...it simply had to be in order to take the girth that my brother had been blessed with...at least, I'm sure he felt it a blessing. To come at the cost of his old body was a curse that I wish he could recognize, but it's clear to me that he can't, as he slams his hips into her with a vigor that is downright sickening.

Even if I could close my eyes, I can't get away from the sounds, and they become that much louder...that much worse as they buck into each other with a feral intensity. I can hear them grunting from a short distance, moaning and groaning with delight as they come to a peak of the ritual, and in a way, I feel relieved, even before my sibling and mother do sexually, simply to know that it'll be over.

The finish...is messy, at best. I can hear a mild squelching sound as I realize that my brother is releasing his ejaculate into his own mother...spilling his forbidden seed into the very place that he was born from. "That's it...th-that's the way, my son! Fill mommy up! Fuck your mommy deep!" my mother moans desperately, and I cringe at hearing her once lovely voice turned so dark, deep and rotten...such words would never have left her mouth a lifetime ago, but that lifetime is long since over, as my brother does just as she commands and literally breeds her, like a sow.

My body is trembling uneasily as the display comes to an end, and my brother slumps into my mother in his exhaustion. She embraces him tightly with her strange, heavy arms and holds him close, knowing that he's done just what the islanders wanted him to do...just what she wanted him to do.

I weep quietly in my bondage, wishing that I could will myself from the shackles and be gone from this terrible place, but I know that my fate is already decided. I'm going to have a new brother, one made through a terrible, horrible showing of incest, and I'm immediately overwhelmed with fear and regret as I realize just what horrible things they might have planned for myself...and the new brood.

Connecting Dangerously with the Natives 2

**I've become used to my situation, my punishment.

I've accepted that there is no rescue coming for us. I've accepted that I will likely never see my father again, and that my mother and brother have turned themselves over to the sinful ways of this island. I've accepted that the natives, strange as they are, will force me to watch their every interaction, and continue to torture me for things beyond my understanding.

I have not, however, accepted the union between my sibling and parent as one that I approve of. The sin is still there, even their minds are poisoned, even if their bodies are transformed. My mother is a fat, breeding hag, and my brother, a muscular, twisted monstrosity who seems to live only to fulfill her forbidden, sexual needs.

For me to even have such thoughts was gut-wrenching, before. To think I came to this island on a religious mission, to spread the good word, only to be indicted into what could be called a 'local religion.' These natives are convinced that my mother is the new birth mother of their people, that somehow, she is their goddess, connected to the bringing of some kind of monstrosity into this world. They cannot speak English, and they cannot be swayed away from their beliefs. I have tried...and I have failed.**

At least I can say that I did the best that I could. At least I gave it everything that I had before I was captured, and first forced to witness the disgusting copulation between my brother and my own mother...to see the very passage that I was birthed from being defiled by another who came through it...

It's still more than I can bear to think of, but the natives make sure, each and every night, that my thoughts will pale in comparison to the reality.

Each night, as the moon passes over the small clearing in this fetid jungle that we now call home, the natives give my brother some kind of drink. Each time he consumes it, he looks a little less human, from the color of his skin fading to a sickly green, to the way that his muscles bulge without any symmetry. Though I know I shouldn't look, I do notice that his genitals are unusually large, and seem to have twisted in some odd ways...his shape is certainly not that of a human male anymore, I can attest.

Every time the natives approach, I fear for my purity. They've left me naked permanently, and I know that they admire and gaze upon my body, but they only ever keep me bound and force me to watch the incestuous act, as if they believe that seeing it enough times will cause me to willingly be a part of it.

They've truly underestimated me for that, and if freedom should ever find us, it will be a cold day in hell before I allow anyone off of this island alive. I don't care if it isn't the 'right' thing to do...what they've done to us is more wrong than can ever be forgiven in a church, and confessing it should not be enough to absolve their sickening ways.

My faith is certainly being pushed to the limits, and I do hope that I can resist my breaking point. I only wish that there was something I could do to free my family from this spell and return them to their former glory. The pain of witnessing such a fall...may be more than I can take for much longer.

Thomas...Mother...this night, please, resist the urges of the bitter potion, ignore the coming of the moon, and return to what you once were.

**

I awake with a start. As usual, the natives have no manners about waking me...they push and shove me until I respond, and once again, they've come to adjust my bondage and ensure that I see my family acting in a most lewd way. Each time, I hope and pray that it's the final time, but so far, I've had no such luck, and as my strength continues to whittle away from being bound to this god-forsaken post, I wonder if my brother or my mother care at all about my health, in all of this.

They're clearly detached from reality, and I wonder, as I watch the natives presenting my brother with a drink, if this was something that was within them all along. The first few nights, my brother resisted, but now, some months into this treatment, he willingly, and in fact happily takes the offered drink and immediately chugs it, without remorse or care. He's hellbent on making love to my mother, right in front of me.

Were they always this way? Was there a hidden, incestuous affair that my father and I didn't know about?

The way my mother spreads her disgustingly, unsightly legs and opens up her inhuman sex to him, I do honestly wonder, and I wish that I didn't. I wish that my mind would remain strong, but I feel that the natives can see me starting to slip, and I can hear what sounds like quiet chuckles spreading through the crowd as the nightly show begins.

I've seen it nearly a hundred times by now, and somehow, it is a little bit different, each time.

In a lot of ways, they still act like humans. I watch as my brother grips the very base of his strange, twisted manhood and begins to stroke it. No doubt, the potion has already spread throughout his body, and before, I would pretend that it was the sole reason that any of this was possible, or that it happened. Now, I've begun to accept that this is just the way that they are, and the potion is likely a formality or some kind of ritual.

It certainly has no effect on the way that my brother dives into the flesh of my mother and latches onto her. Her body, transformed as it is, is more like an amorphous lump with somewhat discernible limbs, and her breasts sag far more than I would expect a man to enjoy, but my brother hungers for them so that he latches on like a newborn child. Even from my small distance, I can hear the slick, wet suckling of his lips sealing around her nipples and going at them with such intensity that I fear he believes milk may actually still flow from them.

Given the way that she's been changed, I suppose it is entirely possible.

My mother throws her head back. She moans with delight, one that is even more twisted than before, as she knows I'm forced to watch, and every so often, she turns her attention to me, to make sure that I can see every forbidden detail. Her arms can scarcely move, but with them, she presses her fingertips against the edges of her womanhood and spreads it, enticing my brother and in some way, taunting me.

Perhaps she believes that by rubbing it in my face, I'll become jealous, but I remain steadfast, even as I regretfully see the growing length of my brother's cock between her thighs. I can hear my own thoughts becoming truly lewd in nature as I watch, and the years of schooling that forced me to think with higher intelligence and proper words starts to go to the wayside...my family is entirely broken and corrupted...

...Why, then, should I be an exception?

Trying desperately to ignore such a thought, I worry as I feel a mild tingling in the pit of my tummy, traveling down and past my womb, right into the bare, exposed flesh of my sex; the natives do keep me very clean, and not a single fiber of hair is allowed to sit upon my crotch. It keeps my labia very well exposed to the cool trade-winds of the island, and in a different situation, that might be a beautiful thing, if I were here with the man of my dreams, or perhaps, my future husband.

Instead, I am stuck here with my mother and brother, watching as the muscular beast that is my sibling pounds his hips forth. I can hear their sickening moans, and the wet, sticky sound of his manhood plowing into her parted folds over and over again. They have an endurance that betrays their human bodies, and the ritual, on the longest nights, takes more than an hour. Whether that's all one climax or not, I can barely be sure, but fluids continue to spill from my mother's cunt, and clearly, not all of them are hers.

I know little of human sexuality, I'm not loathe to admit; before I ever came to this island, however, I knew enough to know that seeing such a yield out of a male isn't normal. For most men, it shouldn't even be possible, but my brother's yield is both impressive and overwhelming, as it carries with it a scent that is almost as much of an aphrodisiac as the act itself, an act that continues in front of me. My brother grips my mother by the breasts and uses them as leverage to plant his feet on the ground, taking a slightly different angle...perhaps the act is more pleasurable for her, that way?

Based on her sudden, howling moans, it certainly is, and as my own sibling, Thomas, pounds his hips forth with inhuman vigor and wildly fucks my mother, I can see the natives getting eager once again, as they think the end of the nightly ritual is approaching.

They are wrong, despite my wishing they were right. For whatever reason, this night, my body continues to draw closer to giving in to the kind of corruption that they hope I will, and I do all that I can to resist it, never wanting to look anything like my mother does now, and still holding onto the belief that even seeing my family engaged in such an act will damn my soul to hell.

The temptations of my flesh, however, tend to disagree, and I can feel small trickles of forbidden wetness beginning to spill down the insides of my thighs as the act continues. There is no wasted motion: every act is meant for the pleasure of one party or another, from the way that Thomas' balls swing into my mother's ass each time that his drives his hips forward, to the way that her hands grip around his buttocks and squeeze them to inspire a greater ferocity out of him.

He already works with such a force that I can't imagine the sex would be anything but painful, but my mother can take all that my brother has to offer. In a sickly way, the display is actually impressive, as I worry each and every night about the safety of my family members, but they continue onward, knowing that they're starting to get to me.

The natives have taken notice, too; my secret is out, and already, I can feel the trails of my wetness sneaking down past my knees, as they knock into each other. A struggle to preserve my modesty would be a waste of my time regardless, as my body is nude all the same, and my nipples stand firm and at attention. Though it has taken months, the natives have finally driven my body to a point of sexual starvation so great that I actually lust to interact with either my sibling or my parent...I simply need some kind of a touch, and I expect that the natives themselves may deliver on such a thing.

They're all males, and certainly, they're equipped to handle such a job. I expect them to finally have their way with me, though, at this point, I know that I would be consenting to such an act. My body would be willing to be ravished, and I watch as I see a few tiny drops of my natural lubricants falling down into the dirt. They immediately dry up on small leaves that act as my bed, and I try to cling to the wisps of shame that leave my body, but they take with them only their own essence...my shame is gone, as I turn my eyes back to the incestuous display, lit by the bright, burning fires of the clearing.

My brother holds his own mother tight to his chest as his hips slam into her body. Her excess quakes with his force, and I can hear the nearly animal growls and grunts of passion from his lips as she begins to orgasm around his impressive length. It is a weird looking organ after the transformation, but a sight to behold nonetheless, and one that I find myself lusting after, despite my mind knowing it to be wrong; my body ignores such things. The shame of the first world is left behind, with only the natural pleasures that my body desires to be sated, and though my mother now pants with exhaustion and slumps in the afterglow of the act, my brother doesn't seem to be finished, and the natives are escorting him over to me.

Though shame once forbade such an act, my mind is giving up the fight, as I gaze down upon his twisted, bulbous cock, still dripping with the excess, feminine juices of my mother's own cunt. Shockingly, I don't care. I lick my lips and wait to feel the strange shape inside of me, knowing that I will finally know a release from the lust that has driven my sanity away.

Again, I am wrong, and it pains me to know as I watch the natives hold him still. Thanks to the monstrosity of a body that they've given him, they find it a hard task, but a few are able to keep him in place as they stroke over the length of his cock. The display continues to drive me insane, and my loins ache with a terrible need as I watch precious precum spilling down into the dirt and drying away before I even have a chance to smell it, much less taste the exquisite juices on my tongue.

My brother is my entire world, as I watch the show, and though I begin to fear that penetration will never come, I pray that I won't be denied everything that he has to offer. He continues to grunt as he gazes over me and reaches out to me, clearly lusting after me...I can't help but grin at the thought. The playful smirk is wiped right from my lips, however, as the very tip of my brother's cock bulges in front of me, and the pent up seed of his transformed body is sprayed across my nude figure, coating me from the tops of my breasts to the slim navel of my tummy...the excess spills down the front of my thighs, and a few last, ferocious sprays of cum land right upon the exposed lips of my womanhood, leaving me to wince with delight, but ultimately, be let down from the release that I was hoping for.

The natives have done their work, and my brother's body is too exhausted to carry on. Still bound to the pole, I writhe against my restraints, willing to do the work myself and mount him, but I simply can't break free. I'm trapped, ever and more, and before the sticky ejaculate has come to dry on my flesh, I can feel a crawling under my skin. My breasts feel heavy, and my rump, particularly tight, as I strain against my bondage.

My skin begins to turn color, ever so slowly, and I realize what fate my lust has brought to me...