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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...[b]disturbing.[/b]

We may not agree on how to approach or address her, but we agree that we have to do something, [b]anything[/b] 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 [b]nothing,[/b] 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 [b]gave[/b] 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 [b]real[/b] 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 [b]eyes.[/b] 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 [b]human[/b] 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 [b]horrific[/b] 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 [b]mother[/b] 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 [b]never[/b] 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 [b]have[/b] 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 [b]had[/b] 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 [b]worse[/b] 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 [i]messy,[/i] 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! [b]Fuck your mommy deep![/b]" 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 [b]she[/b] 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.