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Serving the Alligator God

Dr. Lear has an encounter with a lost jungle tribe.
Serving the Alligator God

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Dr. Patricia Lear swatted at another mosquito as it tried to feed on her. This was nothing new. Through the years of her global travels, Dr. Lear had dealt with mosquitos, snakes, spiders, wild animals, and much more. She’d uncovered ruins, spent weeks in the desert, climbed mountains, or lived in forests. All of these things she did for science, for her love of history and culture.

This latest excursion into the jungle would be, quite literally, something to write home about. After two weeks down the river, her little group of explorers finally guided their boat ashore. For the next few weeks, possibly months, she’d spend her days in a remote tribal village. Cultures like these were few and far between in the 21st century. Even the most remote tribes couldn’t avoid some kind of contact with the wider world, and so it had come to pass that this bunch, the Antiquitika, had had their first meeting with the modern world in God knew how long.

That was part of Dr. Lear’s task. She was the cultural expert, the one who would learn about their history, their rites, their beliefs, painstakingly taking notes and documenting it for posterity and academia. To this end, her team consisted of herself, a medical doctor, a guide and interpreter, and her long-time companion, Marcus. Marcus, a tough and brilliant cultural expert himself, was also ex-military and had saved her ass more than once in their travels.

As their boat moored at the riverbank, Marcus hopped ashore and secured the ropes to a pair of large trees. The other passengers passed gear to him from the boat. Leaving the pilot and his crew behind, the rest of the band shouldered their packs and filed into the jungle, making good time along a pre-trodden trail, created by the bunch that had made the initial contact with the Antiquitika. With the guide in the lead, they spent the bulk of the day in the sweltering, jungle heat, until the jungle began to thin.

In the distance, the first of the tribal huts came into view and Dr. Lear’s heart leaped at the coming chance to make history. As they approached a pair of half-nude, dark-skinned men, their faces and bodies marked with paint appeared from the bushes. They began to speak rapidly, gesturing, agitated, and brandishing knives. Dr. Lear and her band were seasoned explorers, though, and this sort of thing wasn’t new. They were cool, waiting, tense, as the guide listened, spoke back, and after a moment of dialogue, the two men sheathed their knives.

“They welcome us in,” the guide explained, “We must follow them.”

Dr. Lear nodded and the group made their way to the village. The village was much like others of its kind, Lear noted, taking in everything from the way the people dressed, to the daily activities they worked at, to the unique markings each of them wore painted on their skin. All of these things, she’d spend the coming weeks learning about in depth. She noted, expectantly, that all of the tribe’s women were bare-breasted and wore no undergarments. Some of them had small weights attached to piercings on their nipples.

Their band stopped in front of a hut at the center of the village, larger than the rest. Dr. Lear assumed that the position of prominence, the large size of the place, and the central location meant that this was the home of the tribe’s chief. One of the men begged entry from another man, disappeared inside, and then returned a moment later. The curtained entry of the hut swished and out ducked a tall, muscled man adorned with a feathered headband. His chiseled chest was marked with two slashes of white paint over his nipples and his large, flaccid cock hung nude.

Dr. Lear averted her eyes. This, too, was not uncommon in tribes like this. Still, she knew that some tribes considered it unholy for an outsider to look at them. Having no idea of the cultural mores of these people, she felt it best to err on the side of caution. The large man had to duck out of the entrance, then he stood before the assembled band in silence, observing each of them. As he did so, a woman came and placed a cushion of some kind at his feet. Then, she knelt and began to suck at the man’s cock eagerly.

Dr. Lear shifted uncomfortably. Each tribe had different rituals and rites when it came to sex, but never had she seen such a blatant display immediately on arrival. The big man began to speak to them. Their guide listened, spoke back, then turned to the group.

“He is their leader. He is called, Iuxiuana. He says, forgive me, Doctor, he says that you offend them all by not baring your breasts.”

Lear colored and said, “Tell him that it is not our way.”

The guide interpreted, paled at the response, and then directed his next statement to Marcus, “Iuxiuana says that it is not a woman’s place to speak. Her wishes should be those of her mate or, I think the closest translation is, ‘her owner,’ and that if you, Marcus, do not correct this offense, then we will be introduced to the alligator god.”

That gave them all pause, Lear and Marcus giving each other a look.

“Look, I don’t like it either,” Marcus said quietly, “but I’m not in a hurry to meet the alligator god. You’re going to have to show him your tits.”

Lear blushed, angry, but what choice was there? She nodded and allowed Marcus to undo the buttons of her top. She dropped her pack, removed the top, then the sweaty tank top under it. The tribal leader stared in curiosity at her bra, which Marcus then removed and dropped onto her pack. Her large tits bare to everyone, Lear kept silent.

The chief began to speak again, the guide listening.

The guide, again, directed his remarks to Marcus, though his words were for Lear, “He says, forgive me, Doctor, he says that you have the ripe udders of a sow. They are pleasing. He asks that he be allowed to suckle them, and in return, Dr. Marcus may enjoy the udders of his third wife. It… it seems like this is an honor.”

Lear made to speak, but Marcus gave her a glare. It is not a woman’s place to speak, she remembered.

“I’m sorry, Pat,” Marcus said, “Tell him that it would be an honor to have him suckle on her udders and that I thank him for the gift in return.”

“I’m not letting him suck on my boobs!” Dr. Lear hissed to Marcus.

“Would you rather get eaten by alligators?” Marcus hissed back.

“Goddammit, Marcus!” Lear hissed again.

The chief beckoned Marcus and Lear forward. Marcus led her to stand before the big man, whose hard penis was still being serviced by the naked woman. The chief turned to the hut and said something, loudly. A second later, another nude woman emerged from the hut. The woman was young, no more than nineteen, Lear guessed, and her breasts were nearly as large as Lear’s own. The chief said something to her and she stood before Marcus. She made a bow of subservience to him.

Marcus gave Lear a crossways glance. She took the hint, made her own bow of reverence to the chief, who nodded, and then the chief reached out and engulfed one of her tits in his big hand. Lear flinched at the molestation but endured it. The tall man then leaned down and began to suck at her boob. The nude woman offered her own tit to Marcus, who followed the chief’s example.

For what seemed like minutes, Lear stood, humiliated and red-faced as the tribal leader enjoyed her tits and Marcus enjoyed those of the third wife. At last, the chief removed his big lips from her boob and stood, but he continued to grope one of her tits. Marcus followed his lead. Iuxiuana spoke to the guide once more, then released Lear’s tit.

“He says that we are welcome in the village and will be his guests. He says that your customs are alien and unacceptable, unfit for his presence. A priest will instruct you in their ways. If we do not adhere to the ways of the village, we will meet the alligator god.”

The chief withdrew to his hut, taking his wives with him. Their group was met by a priestess, a brown-skinned woman who was nude but for a necklace of alligator teeth, a decorative headdress, and streaks of paint over her nipples and above her pussy. They were led away and shown to a circle of stones, at the center of which was a small fire, cradled in a hewn stone altar. On each side of the altar was a carved stone alligator’s head.


Over the next few hours, the guide interpreted the woman’s words to the best of his ability, though there were some muddled meanings, given the unfamiliarity of the dialect and context. The religious beliefs of the tribe, unsurprisingly, were focused on male dominance and female subservience. The alligator, a common animal in this part of the area, was linked to male superiority, aggressiveness, and breeding rights. The village’s chief was chosen, primarily, based on the size of his cock and his sexual endurance.

Throughout the course of this study, the group was plied with holy wine, but when pressed for the contents of the wine, no discernable answer was given. An hour after drinking her first cup, though, Dr. Lear knew that it must be spiked with some kind of aphrodisiac, because she began to fidget and squirm, her pussy getting very hot and wet. She could see tents in the pants of her male colleagues, as well. She felt that this should concern her, but there was a soft and fuzzy feeling in her head that made the soft voice of the priestess entrancing and comforting.

The woman beckoned Dr. Lear toward the altar, where she indicated that Lear should disrobe. The guide confirmed this through his interpretation.

“She says that for a woman to remain clothed when there is no immediate need, is unholy. That a woman makes herself available to the needs of the male at all times,” the guide explained, his cheeks flushed and his erection apparent.

“Not such a bad religion,” one of the other men joked to chuckles of agreement from the others.

“Please tell her that this is not our way,” Lear said, her head warm.

The guide passed the information on, then said, “To not follow the guidance of the alligator god is heresy. We must submit to the will of the god, or face him for judgment.”

“We should go,” Lear said, wiping sweat from her brow, “We’ll send back an all-male team to do this.”

She turned to leave and the priestess began to babble loudly. Two men emerged from the bushes, blocking Lear’s path. Another three emerged on the other side of the clearing, blowguns in their hands.

“I don’t think they want us to go,” Marcus said, raising his hands to show that they were no threat.

“Marcus,” Lear hissed, “We have to get out of here. If I go along with this shit, they’ll be fucking me by nightfall and you know it.”

Marcus shrugged and said, “What do you want me to do, Pat? I might get two or three of them down before someone hits me with a blowdart, and then what?”

“Fuck!” Lear spat.

“Just… just think of it like that time in Chile. You know, with that guy,” Marcus said.

“That was a bar hookup!” Lear said, “Not a… a tribal raping!”

“Look. Just strip for them. Iuxiuana was pretty hung. You might just enjoy this.”

Lear turned to the tribesmen, the priestess, and her companions. She saw no help from any corner. She dithered, and then she blushingly stripped off her clothes to a nod of approval from the priestess. The woman waved and the tribesmen vanished back into the brush, but Lear could still feel their eyes on her naked body.

Their cocks hard, Lear’s companions watched the priestess adorn the doctor’s body with streaks of paint over her nipples and her pussy. The woman chanted and sang as she did so, carefully drawing the strange symbols of her faith. When it was done, she made a show of circling the altar, holding a hand-sewn cushion with reverence toward the sky and continuing to sing in her odd language.

After circling the altar four times, once for each of the four stone heads, she placed the cushion on the ground and instructed Lear to kneel upon it. Unhappy, the doctor obeyed. The priestess turned to Marcus and made a bow of subservience, then spoke.

“She asks if you are the doctor’s mate,” the guide explained.

“No,” Marcus answered, and the word was conveyed.

“She asks if you speak for her until her mate has been chosen,” the guide said.

Marcus looked at the kneeling Lear, her bare tits smeared with paint, heaving in anxiety. Whatever had been in the wine had his cock harder than he’d ever felt it. Pat had been his friend for a long time, and they’d been through some tough spots together. The way the alligator juice had his blood pumping, though, it was pretty hard to see her as anything more than a kneeling, ripe-uddered sow ready for a good cocking.

“Yes,” Marcus said, “I speak for her.”

Lear made a little strangled cry but didn’t protest. Despite the weirdness of this all and the fact that she was nude in the jungle surrounded by sex-doped men, she wanted to masturbate her very aroused twat.

“She asks,” the guide said, “if your sow will show her devotion to the alligator god by displaying her subservience to you and your followers, in view of the altar and the eyes of the God.”

Lear gave a slight shake of her head, her eyes pleading.

“I believe she will,” Marcus said.

The guide passed on the answer and the priestess nodded. She knelt in front of Marcus, kissed his cock through his trousers, and then removed them for him. His angry, throbbing erection popped out. The priestess began her song again and ushered Marcus forward.

“I’m sorry, Pat,” Marcus whispered, “We’ll get through this.”

Patricia did not want to open her mouth and let her friend put his cock in it. The priestess stood behind her, singing, reached down, and tugged hard on Lear’s nipples. Lear opened her mouth and cried out in pain, allowing Marcus to push his cock between her lips. She looked up at him in horror, her eyes bugged, and then Marcus began to fuck her wet mouth as the priestess knelt behind her. The woman sang softly into her ear, the damn, soothing, entrancing chant that Lear couldn’t make any sense of. She did so while groping and pinching Lear’s hard and excited nipples, allowing Marcus to place his large hand on her head and repeatedly slide his cock along her tongue.

The woman gave an undulating cry of reverence to the sky as Marcus ejaculated into Lear’s mouth, gripping her hair firmly. Patricia gagged and sputtered as she swallowed the warm jizz, and then Marcus stepped away and the next of her companions took his pleasure from her reluctant mouth. The guide was next, muttering to himself in the language of the tribe, for practice, until he pasted her tongue with his sperm.

The rest of her companions followed, each of them feeding the good doctor a helping of blessed semen. Once they’d finished, the priestess put her tongue into Lear’s mouth, holding her firmly as she struggled, and licked out the remains of the men’s offering. She spit the remains into the fire on the altar and gave one final, exultant cry, then helped Lear to stand.

The tribesmen emerged once more from the bushes and gave each of her companions a welcoming embrace, and then proceeded to push Lear to her knees and provide her a ritual face fucking.


With ten loads of sperm in her belly and her pussy gushing, Lear and the small band were welcomed back to the village. The chief, Iuxiuana, emerged from his hut with his three wives and spoke to the guide as the wives provided further offerings of wine to the outsiders.

“He says that you have pleased the alligator god,” the guide said to Marcus, “and he requests that he be able to make use of your sow before the evening meal. In exchange, he will honor you by having his second wife service your manhood.”

“Of course,” Marcus said.

Lear attempted to kill him with her eyes, but she was wise enough not to argue. The chief stood before Lear, his large phallus erect in her face. He gave a deep, baritone rumble, saying something to the alligator god, and then eased his fat cock into the doctor’s unwilling, but unresisting mouth.

While Patricia’s stretched lips struggled to please the chief’s girth, his second wife, a true tribal beauty, proceeded to give Marcus the most mind-blowing headjob of his entire life. The tribesmen chanted and sang as this happened. Lear made gagging sounds around the hefty cock plowing her suckhole, tears of humiliation running down her cheeks. Thanks to the effects of the wine, she nearly orgasmed when the chief began to feed her his copious load.

The man’s immense explosion of cock cream nearly drowned her. Her cheeks filled with the stuff as she was unable to swallow it all. He pulled his cock from her mouth and emptied the remains of his offering onto her face as Lear sputtered and sprayed cum from her overfull mouth. The warm jizz flowed over her chin and ran in thick drops onto her large tits.

Having performed her godly duty, the chief stepped back away from her. His first wife, then, began to scoop the coating of sperm from Lear’s face and push it into her cunt with her fingers, chanting softly as she did so. The rest, she licked from the doctor’s body and spit into the ritual flames as an offering, continuing to finger her twat as she did so.

Marcus looked across the fire at Lear, his cheeks flushed as he orgasmed into the mouth of the second wife, grunting with the release of his load. The first and third wives cleaned Patricia’s cummy body and then worked at reapplying more of the paint to her as other women moved about with trays of food.


Following the evening meal, the chief spoke once more to the guide. Stammering, the guide turned to Marcus.

“Iuxiuana asks that he… that he be allowed to… impregnate your sow. In exchange, he would be honored to provide you the use of his first wife for whatever pleasure you might wish.”

Lear’s eyes widened and she shook her head, pleading. Marcus, drunk and horny on the village wine, looked over the amazingly fit body of the first wife. She was truly gorgeous, and if the second wife’s mouth was any indication of these women’s talents, Marcus could only imagine how good her pussy would feel.

“It would be my honor,” Marcus said, “to have such a man impregnate my sow.”

The guide, hesitantly, with an apologetic glance at Lear, conveyed Marcus’ words. The chief nodded, once, and then spoke to his first wife. She gave a bow and then crossed the fire to Marcus, offering her hand. Marcus took it and allowed her to lead him away to a hut. The chief, then, lifted Lear over his shoulder and carried her, kicking, into his hut. The second and third wives followed.

“No!” Lear protested as the chief lay her down on his “bed,” but the wives were on her.

The second wife pushed her tongue into Lear’s struggling mouth and kissed her, groping one of her tits, while the third wife prepared her cunt for her husband’s use with her tongue. The chief pushed his engorged cock into the cunt of his second wife, gripping her rounded ass and giving her a few hard thrusts as she kissed Lear and molested her tits. His cock wet, he then mounted his second wife and gave her the same treatment.

The second wife coaxed an orgasm from Lear’s reluctant twat as the doctor squealed into the mouth of the second wife, then took hold of her husband’s cock and guided it to Patricia’s well-wet fuckhole. The doctor wriggled her hips and tried to squirm backward, but the wives held her arms, each of them sucking at her tits as the chief pressed the fat head of his cock into her.

Lear inhaled sharply, sucking in a deep breath as the monstrous organ parted her pussy and spread it.

“Fuck!” she cursed, “Oh, fuck!”

The largest cock Lear had ever laid eyes on pushed three inches into her cunt and then she spasmed, jerked, and grunted as she orgasmed. She knew it was the wine. The wine was filled with drugs that were making her horny. She didn’t want this. It felt far to amazing to be real.

The wives continued to suck on her and touch her, while their husband pushed his length further into her, stretching her pussy lewdly around his giant stalk. He held her hips in his hands and fed more and more of his cock into her, a look of determination on his face. Lear orgasmed again as eight inches of that thick cock pleasurably enlarged her cunt to accommodate its girth. At eleven inches, with another two to go, Lear felt like that enormous tool was in her guts.

Her eyes rolled back in her head and she gave in to the incredible mixture of pain and pleasure, the feeling unlike any fucking she’d ever received. The chief withdrew half of his slickened length and then pushed it slowly back in, making Lear shake and grunt. Pleased with the tight grip of her cunt, the chief began a measured, slow fucking of the reluctant doctor. For long minutes, he stroked the full length of his cock into her, making her feel every ridge and vein of it.

Lear mumbled and grunted like an animal, her eyes hazy with fuckfog as the man’s enormous dick became her entire world. The wives continued to suck on her tits, kiss her, stroke her, speaking to her in a language she could not understand, as their husband gave her the most intense mind-altering orgasms of her life.

Having adjusted her cunt for proper use, the chief began to fuck her in earnest and Lear became a babbling, incoherent mess as her wine-drugged body submitted to the will of the chief. The resistance was over. She allowed the man’s giant cock to rut into her like a sex puppet as she writhed, screamed, grunted, humped, and moaned.


In the morning, Patricia stumbled, naked from the hut. The village was dark and quiet. Her body felt as though she’d been run over and she could feel the cake of dry sperm over every inch of her vulva, her thighs, and her stomach. She couldn’t be fucked like that again. The chief’s mammoth cock expelled such a torrent of sperm that she felt like it was going to overcome her birth control if he did it again.

Uncaring, she knew she had to escape. Her companions be damned. Marcus had betrayed her for a set of tribal tits and cunt. Fuck this place. She found her pack near the fire, quickly dressed, and then grabbed a torch from the nearby fire.

Going out into the jungle, alone, in the dark, was a stupid move. Becoming the chief’s fourth wife, though, was worse. She cleared the inner circle of the village and darted back along the path they’d entered by. Before she’d made it ten feet down the path, though, two tribesmen sprang from the bushes and took her by the arms, taking away the torch and yelling at her in their strange language.

“No!” Lear cried and kicked as they hauled her back to the village, “No!”

The commotion roused the chief and the other villagers, as well as Lear’s companions. She found herself, again, on her knees in front of the tribal leader.

The guide, bleary-eyed from the night of wine and fucking, interpreted his words, “He says that you have offended the alligator god by your attempt to escape. As punishment, you will be made to meet the God for his judgment.”

“No!” Lear protested, “Tell him… tell him he can fuck me again. I’ll stay!”

The guide interpreted, but then said, “It is too late. You will meet judgment.”

The tribesmen hauled Lear to her feet, kicking and screaming. She heard a roar from Marcus, who took down two, three, then four of the tribesmen in an attempt to rescue her. Then, Marcus slumped to the ground as a blowdart punched into his neck.


Bound and gagged, the tribesmen led Lear, Marcus, and her companions into the jungle. For hours, it seemed, they journeyed through the heat of the morning, until they came to a clearing. In the clearing stood another hut, this one made of timber and looking for all the world like some ramshackle reconstruction of a middle-class American home.

Lear and Marcus shared a confused look. One of the tribesmen went to the door of the place and knocked on it. A moment later, an aged white man appeared, sporting a brightly colored robe and a neatly trimmed beard. At his appearance, all of the tribesmen fell prostrate.

He spoke to the tribesman closest, bid him stand, then conversed for moments, his eyes growing wide as he looked at the band of explorers. After a few minutes of speech, he ordered the tribesmen to release Lear and her companions.

He stepped forward, his face concerned, and then put out his hand to Lear.

“Oh dear,” he said, his voice cracked and withered, “So sorry. So sorry!”

Lear shook his hand in utter confusion, as he continued, “Colonel Alan Gater, what was. Apologies for ma’ voice. Don’t get to speak much English these days.”

“Alan Gater?” Marcus asked.

“Yes’sir,” the old man said, “Came down here back in ’77 and been here ever since. The tribesfolk tended my injuries, but after a few weeks of hospitality, it just seemed like such a nice place, that I figured it’d be best if the Air Force just left me for dead. The tribe kind of adopted me as a god, seeing as I came out of the sky. Hope they didn’t give you too much trouble.”

“Trouble?” Lear said, her face red, spitting, “They fucking raped me!”

Gater nodded, wringing his hands apologetically, “So sorry. So sorry. They’re really a friendly bunch if a touch odd. Usually, they just ask visitors if they want to visit the Alan Gater god. Not sure what went so wrong with you.”

Lear rounded on the guide and shouted, “The alligator god! Jesus fucking Christ!”

The guide flushed and said, “Well, no interpretation is perfect.”


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