Author's note: This story was nearly finished two months ago and then real life reared its head and I became swamped with other things. When everything cooled down last week and I finally had tome to finish the story, I realized that the whole narrative really had got away from me. I was tempted to toss everything but, considering it was nearly done, I finished it instead. If you like it - I'm glad. If the story feels a bit 'off,' I agree.
A great hum filled the laboratory as the poleron-inversion matrix restructured the vast amount of energy required to drag the ARX300 out of subspace and into the normal flow of space-time. With a resounding CRACK, a temporal incursion was stabilized and the ARX300 floated gracefully from within the energy vortex, its smooth spherical body incandescent in the dim lighting. The probe hovered in mid-air for a few moments, its final directive - to come home safely - fulfilled, and it's artificial intelligence awaiting new orders. The temporal incursion subsided silently behind it; an ignoble ending to what was a fruitful adventure spanning centuries.
The ARX300 was the most advanced probe available, its value incalculable when studying the past. Invisible due to its polymorphic membrane, the probes anti-gravity inductor coils allowed it to fly rapidly through the air or hover in one place indefinitely. This gave the probe complete freedom to make its observations from any angle the AI deemed necessary without risking exposure. Installed with a vast reference library, the ARX300 would be able to place whatever it was observing within the correct historical context so as to allow the data to be fully understandable by the AI and for the AI to make suitable decisions as to what to observe. What made the ARX300 so much more valuable than its predecessors, however, was the fact that it included the recently developed BNS, or Biosynthetic Neuron Scanner, which gave the ARX300 the ability to pick up the thoughts of it's subjects through passive scans of their neural activity. In essence, the ARX300 could "hear" it's subject's mental activities - a valuable tool indeed. The other important advancement of the ARX300 was the inclusion of the NARRATOR, or Narrating Ace Responsible for Revealing Actors, Tension, Order, and Roadmap, a powerful program that allowed the data to be understood in terms of an unfolding story as opposed to a series of disjointed images.
A man, dressed in a long white coat, powered down the network of machines before casually approaching the ARX300 and cupping the cantaloupe sized device in his hands. From his perspective, the machine had only been gone for thirty-seven minutes; such was the nature of time travel. Carrying the probe to a nearby computer terminal, he slid the sphere into a specially designed alcove that immediately locked the ARX300 into place and began the long and arduous process of downloading the entire stored memory in its bio-mimetic neural processors. The massive super computer would later sort the data as best it could, looking for common variables and elements while running a variety of cleanup algorithms to try and make sense of corrupted data. Though the technology was incredibly advanced, using probes like the ARX300 to record the past was always difficult; the AIs adjusted poorly to the temporal-harmonics brought on by the incursions and ended up storing the data in odd - though sometimes unique - ways.
The man didn't care to wait for the download to be completed. This project had been his life's work; his obsession. Making a few notations on a pad nearby, the man picked up the output cable from the super computer and, without hesitation, plugged it into the input jack just below his right ear - tethering his mind to the technology around him. Though he knew that the data would flow into his mind in a jumbled fashion, he needed to do this now. To see. To know. As the program began to respond, the man's senses dissolved and he became one with the computer; one with the ARX300; one with history, one with the story.
...as the great sailing ship cut through the deep blue water of the Atlantic, its main sail billowing in the wind as it sped across the sea. The flag flown identified her as slave ship; one of many traveling between the sugar plantations on the islands and the American colonies up north. Men hurried to and fro, their tasks seemingly important. The sun shown brightly as the heat beat down upon them and...
...barely large enough for man and teenage boy to cast their nets. The two occupants of the small boat worked in tandem, efficient and careful. Clearly, these two were father and son. The water of the South China Sea sparkled green as the sun began to dip low, the day almost over and the...
...raiding party. Huddled in the middle of the longboat was a group of blond youths, looking anxious to land. This was the first time any of them would see battle and manhood would be theirs if they survived the night; survived their first Viking raid. One older brute was describing the women of Wessex in a crude manner while another was singing an old hymn to Freyr. Pretty soon...
...dock. The massive cruise ship was pointing north, towards Alaska, as it slowly disembarked from Seattle. The three thousand passengers lined the rails, cheering in obvious excitement. From the banners, it appeared that this was the cruise lines' maiden launch and the ship, The Royal Maria, was brand new. Thus, the party was...
...miserable. Indeed, with the Mediterranean waters so choppy, those on deck looked decidedly ill. Below, two teenage boys continued to vomit out the portholes, their clothing once-fine Roman garb but now somewhat shabby. They looked like brothers, with their...
...shimmied up the mast, yelling in rough English to the men below. The boy was a deep brown, the only Indian visible on board the merchant vessel. The men seemingly ignored the boys antics, with one remarking to another that he would be glad to get back to London so they could find a real cabin boy - not some little kuthi off the Calcutta streets...
...slaves were getting restless. If they didn't get to South Carolina soon, the crew would need to go to half rations. Still, the captain thought to himself as he poured another glass of rum, the lamp illuminating his small stateroom and his son sleeping in the corner, a few more of these runs and he would retire a wealthy man. Looking out the small port window, he licked his lips. There was a dark shape out there on the water, it's seemingly...
...King Wu of Zhou, the father explained patiently to his son, needed all the men to gather as much fish as possible. They were the lifeblood of China and every man must do his part. The boy listened carefully, his mind focused on both his fathers' words and the odd shape in the distance. It seemed like some sort of island was...
...the Viking raiders stood in their boat, quietly gazing in the distance. A land mass had appeared in the fog and, from the reaction of the men, this was very unexpected. The captain, an old grizzled looking warrior, began consulting with his crew as to their location. Maybe, he said, they had been blown of course by the...
...nothing seemed to dampen the party atmosphere. Though the problem with the engine had the crew somewhat concerned, especially this close to the Alaskan coast, the passengers seemed to really be enjoying themselves. Indeed, the real emergency was that the orange juice was running out and a dearth of mimosas would be much more horrifying than the odd looking island out across the...
...storm had passed. The two teenage boys made their way onto deck with the crew, all eyes focused on the thing in the distance. Men began to mumble. An island? Here? As the boat drifted closer, the island became more and more apparent to those on the ship. It seemed...
...hadn't been any wind for two days and that damn island seemed to get closer and closer. Many of the men glanced eastward, towards India, and wondered if it was to late to turn around. Surely, this island that they drifted nearer to was bad luck. Maybe the Company would...
...large island was unique, strange, terrifying. Instead of sand or grass, the ground appeared to be made of dark green vines, twisting and turning over each other as they rose out of the sea. Below the water, a massive root system extended in all directions away from the island, like a large coral reef just below the water. Above the ocean, an ecosystem like no other reached towards the sky, large vines rising like trees and forming a forest deep and impenetrable. Bright blues and reds and purples and golds appeared everywhere, the foliage somehow brighter than normal colors should be.
Like an alien world, the strange and awful island made the...
...men aboard the colonial slave ship...
...Chinese fisherman and his son...
...Viking war party...
...American tourists aboard the cruise ship...
...sailors for the British East India Company tremble and wonder what sort of place they had discovered. This was, the men thought with deep and bone chilling concern, something other. Sensing his crews' mood, the Captain ordered the men to raise all-sail but, with the wind gone, he privately wondered if it would do any good. Still, the men began their work quickly in the hopes of getting away from the island so near their vessel. In time...
...reach the colony," the First Mate thought to himself sluggishly. Despite being only a few miles from Charleston and despite the Captains' orders an hour ago, the ship was nowhere near ready. In fact, as the Mate glanced around somewhat discombobulated, he became vaguely aware that the men had stopped working. Indeed, every man on deck was looking East at the strange Island. "Maybe I should check on the cargo," he thought in passing, thinking of the many African slaves chained up in the...
...odd colors. In fact, the more the man watched, the closer the things under the water seemed to his small fishing boat. It was like the water was the skin of the sea and the green and yellow branches creeping towards him were the veins and arteries of some great sea monster. Though his mind was muddled, the fisherman knew that something very wrong was occurring - that he and his fourteen-year-old son Song should try and head for shore. Perhaps if he...
...and none of them could seem to concentrate on what they were seeing. Slowly, the bright green and yellow appendages snaked out of the water and entered the longboat. The Vikings, warriors all, stood still in their dreamlike stupor. Ever so slowly, the root-like tendrils meandered to each man and pressed against him - running across bare feet or legs or arms as if searching for something. Before long, the tendrils had touched every man on board and, seemingly content, the things began to slowly withdraw back towards the ocean. But they were not alone. The six youths, for whom this was to be their first raid, followed to the edge of the vessel as if in a trance. There, gazing dazedly at the island in the distance and the sea filled with green and yellow tendrils, they began to disrobe, their weapons and their...
...tee-shirts and board shorts and flip flops all fell haphazardly to the deck. Now naked, the first few teens and pre-teens who had approached the railing went over the side, seemingly content to fall the great distance into the sea. There were no splashes, however, as the tendrils continued to reach out and catch the falling youngsters, holding them comfortably above the water before they slowly began to carry the boys to the mysterious island so near the vessel. Boys continued to stream out from below decks, their faces blank as they approached the side of the massive cruise ship, divested themselves of their clothing, and dropped towards the water. In all and over the course of nearly half and hour, sixty-seven boys, ages ten to seventeen, abandoned the ship and were...
...the two brothers were still in a mental fog, despite the sea-breeze licking at their naked bodies as they were carried towards the island, and neither the fourteen-year-old nor the fifteen-year-old felt able to struggle against that fog. Instead, their thoughts wandered hazily over their predicament. Their father, who had been a well-respected merchant in Rome, had made too many poor political decisions. Fearing that his sons would become targets, he booked Ennius and Porcius passage onboard the trade ship with the command that they seek out their cousins in North Africa. It was that disastrous voyage the boys found themselves on now, though each was slowly realizing that something was amiss...
...when fifteen-year-old Ajeet found himself standing on the bank of the island, the ocean behind him and a dense odd looking jungle before him. Nervous, the cabin boy ran his rough hands across his sweaty chest as the fog began to lift. Where was he? How did he get off the Company ship? Only a few weeks ago, Ajeet had come to Calcutta from an outlying village in hopes of finding work and, after getting an offer with the English sailing ship; he had thought his days of traipsing through the jungle were over. And yet, here he was - though this jungle looked remarkably different from the jungle of his native India. Gathering his courage, the teenager began to...
...nine naked boys, all between the ages of eleven and seventeen, stood staring at each other dumbly and wondering where they were and how they got there. Eight of them were black as night, having grown up in western Africa before a rival tribe had slaughtered most of their community and sold them to the pale skinned foreigners. The ninth boy, a timid thirteen-year-old European and the son of a slave ships' captain, stood a short distance from the others, torn between the desire not to be alone and the knowledge that the slaves, or perhaps, more accurately, the former slaves (as they no longer wore shackles), might use their freedom to enact revenge against him for the actions of his countrymen...
...though he'd been on the island for nearly a day, having slept close to the ocean the night before after trying unsuccessfully to find his father, Song was still shocked at his surroundings. The ground was a mass of soft green vines, obscuring any earth beneath and forcing Song to walk carefully lest he trip. Everywhere Song looked, the vines combined with each other to form massive tree-like plants that rose high into the sky, providing a great deal of shade under their large vine-boughs. Colorful flowers were everywhere as well, and Song quickly discovered that the large orange flowers, as big as his mothers cooking pot at home, held either fresh water or a sort of sweet soft blue fruit. Having become both hungry and thirsty in his exploration of the island over the course of the morning and afternoon, Song had gratefully eaten the easily accessible fruit (which was delicious) and drank his fill of the sweet clean water. Now, as the sun had begun to set, Song was lying comfortably next to a vine-tree, his only complaint being that the unseasonably warm weather coupled with the almost oppressive humidity of the strange jungle island had made his fourteen-year-old body slick with perspiration. Still, as his hand found his erect member and he began to stroke himself...
...past two days had been more than strange," Leifr, the oldest at sixteen and nominal leader, thought to himself as he sat listening to his five companions chat amongst themselves. Suddenly, fifteen-year-old Vali got to his feet, spit on the ground, and headed into the dense foliage; his thick manhood swaying as he walked. Since the previous day, all six youths had maintained constant erections and seeing each other in a state of arousal, though humorous at first, had quickly lost its novelty. What hadn't lost its novelty, however, was the fact that Finnr, the youngest at barely fourteen, was still deeply embarrassed by his erection and the other five boys had taken to teasing him about it.
Soon, a rhythmic slap slap slap sounded faintly in the distance and Leifr shared an exasperated look with his friend Snorri. Though it was only the middle of the day, each boy, Leifr included, had wandered off to please himself at some point that morning. Finnr had even gone twice, though he swore that he only relieved his bowels the second time. As the other boys began to make light of Vali's obvious sexual activity, Leifr's stomach began to rumble in an ominous way. Thinking it was time to relieve himself, he casually stood up, stretched (in the hopes of the others admiring him for his large endowment), and preceded to leave their small camp as the other boys hooted and teased him at the thought that Leifr was going to...
...vines hanging low parted like a veil as the five teenagers made their way towards the water's edge, still unnerved that there was no sand and that the ground, which looked like a pile of green pasta, simply ended when it reached the ocean. These five teens, all seventeen, had taken charge of the other sixty-two boys from the cruise ship four days ago and had tried their best to maintain order. In terms of making sure everyone had plenty to eat and drink, they were incredibly successful. In terms of making sure everyone stayed calm and those youngsters that were upset or worried were comforted, they also had a great deal of success. Where their leadership faced it's greatest challenges, however, was dealing with the changes that were affecting every boy on the island.
At first, they had to deal with the fact that everybody was naked. With most of the boys being American, the ingrained cultural modesty had been a tough challenge to overcome - especially with the fact that some of the boys were as young as ten years old. Then, early on the second day, every boy had become erect; adding a whole new level to the embarrassment and almost derailing the previous day's work. As the day wore on, many boys began to find their hormones were too much and disappeared into the foliage in order to masturbate. With so many boys, however, privacy was scarce. Day three led to a general acceptance that privacy was not tenable and boys began to masturbate openly in front of others, spurred on, no doubt, by the fact that their hormones were demanding orgasmic release more and more frequently. With some of the ten, eleven, and twelve year olds having never masturbated before, this open sexual display led to several older boy/younger boy discussions of the birds and the bees with a focus on male self stimulation. Once informed, all of the youngsters, now cognizant of how to satiate their desires, quickly sought manual orgasm to the cheers and congratulations of their older comrades.
Now that it was day four, the five teenage leaders were busy comparing what they had observed. It seemed, they concluded, that each boy, themselves included, was masturbating to climax about once every half and hour or so out of simply necessity. Their hormones, they groaned, were driving them crazy. Indeed, as they stood next to the water discussing the issue, two of the boys were actively fisting their throbbing erections. Thinking back, the boys concluded that this rate had been just about what they had observed at the end of the previous day. Hoping that the frequency with which they needed to climax did not increase and, they admitted honestly to each other, unable to do anything about it if it did, they turned their attention to the next pressing problem: the frequency at which each boy found himself having near spontaneous loose bowel movements. Over the last...
...a big bite from the soft fruit, Porcius smiled at his younger brother's antics while the sweet juice dripped from his chin and onto his reclining body. Ennius was attempting, again, to juggle three of the fruits, though the fourteen-year-old was having little success. Having been on the island for almost a week, the brothers were trying to keep occupied and, for Ennius, that meant returning to his long held belief that his coordination was much greater than it was. Thus, the lithe teen, his sweaty body glistening in the light while his taut member bounced up and down, stood in the middle of the small clearing and tried over and over to make the fruit fly in his pre-imagined pattern.
Porcius, lying in the shade of a nearby tree, finished his fruit and tossed to core away. His hands, slick with the remnants of the juicy meal, began to trail down his own sweaty body until they found his rigid member; itself slick with pre-ejaculate and sweat. Grasping the organ, Porcius let out a sigh and began to stroke himself leisurely. Over the past few days, it had become necessary for the boys to pleasure themselves near continuously; his best guess was twice an hour or so. In fact, Ennius had only just climaxed a few minutes earlier, giving him a reprieve to practice his juggling. That is, Porcius noted as his fist rapidly flew up and down on his straining erection, Ennius had a reprieve until his brother made "the face."
"The face" was what he and Ennius had dubbed the sudden change of facial expression when the overwhelming urge to defecate seized one of them. Having started around the time they began having to masturbate relatively frequently, the boys had discovered that their bodies were producing an excessive amount of very loose feces and that the urge to expel their fecal matter was becoming more and more overpowering and sudden. In fact, when the urge hit, there was no time to find an appropriate place nor seek the privacy of the jungle. Now, as Porcius watched his brother hurriedly squat down and begin to grunt as he expelled a torrent of wet brown waste, the thought struck him that the frequency with which these overwhelming urges to defecate occurred seemed to be greater than the urge to climax. A moment later, as Ennius grunted loudly only a few feet away, Porcius led out his own snort while blast after blast of...
...and so Ajeet's days became a blur of four events. Eat fruit. Drink water. Masturbate. Defecate. Sometimes they would occur separately, like when Ajeet would have a few minutes to lazily dunk his head into the large flowers containing water and drink until his thirst was quenched. Sometimes they occurred together, with Ajeet masturbating to climax and expelling his seed at the same moment his bowels violently expelled his diarrhea. Moreover, his hunger and thirst became unquenchable, with Ajeet finding himself wandering from flower to flower; eating or drinking it's contents rapidly before hurrying off to his next meal. Strangely, the flowers seemed to refill rapidly, with new fruit or new water becoming available only minutes after Ajeet had visited.
It wasn't very long before Ajeet realized that his waste and his semen rarely stayed on the ground for very long. Indeed, the boy soon discovered that, after his seed or his excrement fell to the earth, it seemed to seep into the mass of green vines; disappearing rapidly as if it had never been. The Indian youth gave this little thought, however, as he was more concerned with eating, drinking, masturbating, and defecating. The only real peace Ajeet found was when the sun went down - oddly enough, his base needs disappeared with the light and nighttime was spent resting, exploring, and washing himself.
In fact, the first thing Ajeet would do when the sun finally left the sky was wade into the ocean and scrub himself all over. Then, once refreshed with seawater, he would hunt down the flowers filled with fresh water and use that to cleanse his body. And Ajeet needed it, too! By the end of each afternoon, having eaten, defecated, and masturbated many times throughout the course of the day, the poor boy found himself a dirty mess. His jaw and neck and chest were stained blue from the succulent fruit, sticky and sweet where the juice dribbled upon him. The same was true for his member, which was oftentimes frisked with his juice stained hands. His pubic hair, normally coarse and curly, as well as much of the hair on his legs and thighs, were matted down from residual semen. Not having any materials with which to clean himself after evacuating his bowels, the boy's backside was caked with dried and drying feces. These nighttime baths were...
...and Erevu smiled wickedly as Christopher, the white son of the ship's captain, squirmed and ejaculated; Mahakne's black hand looking decidedly funny as it masturbated the older white boy. Before coming to the island, Mahakne and Erevu, both being eleven, had never before played with their man parts. Now, nine days in, both had become experts at stimulating the male organ. Christopher obviously felt so as well, moaning as the last few drops of his seed were milked from his member by a grinning Mahakne.
The boys of Nuchaktae had welcomed the white teenager into their group, partly in fear of what might happen to them if the slave ship came back and her captain discovered they had mistreated his son and partly out of a sense communal responsibility - after all, they were all alone on the island. Though the white boy spoke a different language, the boys of Nuchaktae had learned his name and had been able to communicate some basic concepts to him. For instance, Muhaka was in charge of the group - not Christopher. The oldest boy instilled this in the younger teen early on when, as the boys began to play with their man parts, Muhaka forced Christopher to service him with his hand before Muhaka returned the favor to the clearly uncomfortable white boy. Now, as the boys were aroused all day and needed to spill there seed regularly, it had become tradition, as it had been back in Nuchaktae, for the boys to stroke each other so as to build the bonds of friendship. While Christopher seemed uncomfortable with this at first, now he, and all the village boys, were adapt at inducing climax in each other.
Nearby, Muhaka gave a loud laugh while Oojiua sputtered and groaned. Everyone turned to watch. Poor Oojiua was lying on his back, with his fourteen-year-old legs sticking wildly in the air, while Muhaka knelt beside him and masturbated Oojiua's teenage member rapidly. The older boy seemed to find it incredibly funny that Oojiua was both having an orgasm, as evidenced by the semen spraying uncontrollably from his swollen penis, and defecating powerfully, as evidenced by the spray of loose wet excrement launched from his upturned and exposed anus. Erevu, Mahakne, and Christopher looked at each other and immediately burst into laughter, the sight too funny. Mahakne ceased laughing a moment later, though, when he suddenly grunted and several loud splats sounded behind him, his own sudden bowel movement causing him to release Christopher's still swollen member and thrust his hands onto the ground in a bracing motion. Christopher and Erevu laughed even louder...
...brilliant dawn was only an hour past and already Song could tell something was different. Indeed, while there were some orange flowers providing water and fruit, many of them were closed tight as if expecting a sudden chill or the onset of winter. On the other hand, some of the large yellow flowers, which had been closed since Song's arrival on the island seventeen days earlier, were suddenly coming to life; their centers filled with more fresh water and fruit - though the fruit itself was bright red as opposed to the blue fruit found in the orange flowers. As the morning progressed and Song ate and drank from both flowers, he found that his need to defecate and masturbate was gradually lessening.
Indeed, by the end of the next day, Song had actually lost his erection and hadn't felt the need to evacuate his bowels for several hours. Moreover, Song hadn't seen an orange flower open all day, eating and drinking only from the now commonplace yellow flowers. "Perhaps," Song wondered out loud as the sun dipped low and he looked for a place to sleep, "it was the orange flowers that were...
...and so, despite the others teasing him about being the most ready for sex, fifteen-year-old Vali was actually quite glad that his urges were under control. It had been three days since the orange flowers had closed and the need to masturbate and defecate had slowly disappeared; the yellow flowers providing all the sustenance he and his fellow Vikings needed to survive. With their urges gone, the boys had taken to trying to escape the island, though they were having little luck. There was no sign of the longboat from shore - understandable as there wouldn't have been enough supplies for their countrymen to stay put for so long - and there were precious few resources on the island to use in an escape plan. Overall, the boys were starting to think that they were trapped.
Rolling over, Vali stretched. The night had passed uneventfully and, as Vali's hand crept lower, he was pleased to discover that the need to urinate had not given him a morning-erection. In fact, it would be quite some time, he thought to himself, before he wanted to deal with another erection. Thinking himself funny, Vali was about to get up, as the light from the rising sun was just now starting to seep through the trees, when Finnr, who was sleeping right next to Vali, noticed that the older boy was awake.
"Vali" whispered Finnr, the fourteen-year-old scooting closer.
"Umm?" Vali hummed back quietly before yawning.
"Vali. Something is wrong." The other boy said softly.
"Wrong?" responded Vali, not quite concerned. "What do you mean?"
"Look at my genitals. Go on, look! Don't they look odd to you?" the younger boy said, his tone one of concern.
Vali took a moment to gaze at the younger boy's hairless pubic area, not seeing anything remarkable about the younger boy's flaccid penis or testicles. "Um... Should they?" asked Vali, unsure what the joke was.
"Yes. Where are all my pubes? When I went to bed last night, I had pubes! Where are...
...and I'm starting to think that the whole jerking off and shitting everywhere thing was better than this." Michael complained to the group as he casually ate one of the bright red fruit. The other seventeen-year-olds agreed halfheartedly. As the leaders of the cruise ship boys, the group had faced crisis after crisis since coming to the island. The first crisis was making sure everyone had enough food and water. The second crisis was helping everyone understand sex and deal with the increased frequency with which everyone was masturbating and defecating. Now, the crisis was dealing with the very apparent reversal of the aging process and the psychological impact it was having on many of the boys. For the past three days, Michael and his fellow leaders had listened to boy after boy cry as he explained that his penis was getting smaller or his pubic hair was retreating. Boys were growing shorter and their muscles, once teenage, were becoming softer and more childlike. Many of the boys had discovered that their voices were changing for the second time in their lives, though this time the end result was a high soprano that had the boys cringing when they spoke. Every boy on the island was visibly frustrated just as he was visibly younger - causing a general cry of alarm and a need to be comforted by the self-appointed leadership.
This "shoulder to cry on" was complicated by the fact that Michael and the other leaders were growing younger as well - their bodies now resembling barely pubescent fourteen-year-olds despite the fact that all five of them had been very physically mature seventeen-year-olds only a few days earlier. Thus, as time wore on and their own worries began to occupy their thoughts, their ability to comfort those around them was becoming increasingly strained. "I guess we should be glad nobody is turning into a baby, though," ventured Austin, glancing over at a group of nine-year-old boys playing tag nearby and cringing when he realized that all seven boys had been in their early teens only a short time ago. Wondering if he was eventually going to look like that, the boy cast his eyes downward and sighed.
"Any idea why everybody stops de-aging when they get like that," Michael said, nodding towards the group. None did. In fact, though the original sixty-seven boys were between ten and seventeen, now none seemed older than fourteen and, conversely, none seemed younger than nine. It was as if the boys were becoming younger up until the time they became biologically nine or ten and then simply quit getting younger - stopping just before puberty, Michael had privately hypothesized.
"And what's up with not being able to get off? I mean, when I... looked like this the first time, I guess, I was whacking it all the time. Now, I can't seem to...
...and you don't feel anything?" asked Porcius, frustrated by his brother's lack of response. His younger brother gave him a sorrowful look and shrugged. Sighing, Porcius released his brother's soft member and, scooting up so they were face to face, laid his head against Ennius's shoulder and huffed loudly. Though Porcius was a year older than Ennius, the boys could now easily pass for twins - especially because their bodies were nearly identical below the neckline. Indeed, in the past six days, the brothers had watched in horror as they had grown younger and younger, with Ennius's pubic hair disappearing two mornings ago and Porcius's disappearing two nights ago. Now, the boys lay cuddled next to each other, each wondering what new curse was affecting them and hoping, as Porcius had pointed out an hour earlier, that they seemed to be no longer growing younger.
When they had started to de-age, the brothers redoubled their efforts to find an escape from the island. They had no luck. Indeed, about the only discovery the boys made was three days ago when Ennius, out of sight from his brother for a few minutes, had decided to try and masturbate. Despite repeatedly tugging on his member, though, he found, to his dismay, that he couldn't achieve an erection. In fact, neither boy could after Ennius sheepishly pointed this out to his brother. Since then, the boys had tried several times to masturbate themselves and each other in the hopes of reactivating their libidos. They were unsuccessful. Reaching up above him, Porcius casually plucked a fruit from the flower that was...
...gasped Ajeet, his hand sliding casually over his pre-pubescent member as he washed himself with some of the fresh water from the now open red flowers. The previous day, all the yellow flowers, like the orange ones before them, had closed and the once-closed red flowers had opened gracefully, providing fresh water and rich brown fruit to enjoy. But those thoughts were now far from Ajeet's mind as he casually slid his wet hand over his member again, squeaking a bit as his sensitive penis sent a thrill up his spine. His feeling was back! It was back!
For the past week or so, Ajeet had tried repeatedly to stimulate himself sexually, though no amount of playing with his soft member produced any sexual results. "Of course," Ajeet thought to himself, "it might be because I have the body of a child." Ajeet was a bit shocked when he noticed in a pool of water that he looked younger. Three days later, the boy shed several tears when his last bit of pubic hair disappeared. But when he discovered that he no longer could become aroused, that he could no longer achieve any semblance of orgasm, the boy had screamed and cursed the universe for hours. How dare it! How dare it not allow him to play with himself!
But now he could! Dropping to the ground, Ajeet's fingers began to dance over the head of his small boyhood, his body tingling as he began to stiffen. Soon, Ajeet was licking his lips as his foreskin slid up and down the hairless organ and he groaned in victory. Yes! He was masturbating! Faster the boy moved, his hand becoming a blur as the tingling feeling in his groin became more and more persistent. It felt almost like he was building to an orgasm, Ajeet thought distantly, but not quite the same. Suddenly, a powerful pleasurable urge struck his body and Ajeet groaned loudly, his hand still busy with its masturbatory task. "Oh! Oh! Oh!" Ajeet chanted before he suddenly arched his back and climaxed, his orgasm rushing through his body and causing him to shake and shudder. For five, ten, fifteen seconds, the boy seized as his member pulsed in ecstasy. Eventually, the feelings began to recede and Ajeet, removing his hand, looked down at his member in awe. He'd experienced many orgasms over the last few years but this was something else. Something similar, but something else.
As he tried to ponder the difference between this and his previous orgasms, Ajeet's mind was struck with a thought. There was no semen. His climax had been dry. Scrunching up his face at the realization, Ajeet reached back between his legs and grasped his still erect member, jumping slightly when the new lustful sensations hit him. Now confused, the boy began to slowly masturbate again and his eyes widened in shock. Instead of the post-orgasm sensitivity that normally meant his masturbatory session was over, his member now seemed ready for another climax. Smiling, Ajeet began to pump his erection in earnest and, three minutes later, was rewarded with another powerful dry climax that had him rolling around on the ground in pleasure - the new feelings so profound, that Ajeet failed to realize that the earth itself was also shaking...
...and that morning had provided the boys, who all looked about the same age of nine-years-old, with the most wonderful gift: the ability to become sexually aroused and, after a bit of self-exploration, achieve orgasm. Now, the boys lay around in a sweaty pile, talking good-naturedly while stroking themselves and each other to climax after climax. Nine pre-pubescent penises, eight black and one white, were hard as nails and throbbing repeatedly as the boys discovered that they no longer suffered from the need to rest after achieving orgasm. Indeed, several even claimed that this seemed a boon - their first impressions of growing younger as a curse now re-examined and re-interpreted as a blessing. For indeed, argued Oojiua energetically as his body shook through its fourth orgasm in half-an-hour, it was much more fun to be trapped in the body of a nine-year-old with infinite climactic potential than to be trapped in his previously fourteen-year-old body and only be able to clim ax once before needing a break.
Suddenly, the ground began to shake; its undulating motions neither severe nor dangerous but nonetheless unexpected and unique. The boys ceased their play immediately, releasing their members and grasping the vined ground, riding out the shaking until the ground lay motionless. For several minutes thereafter, the boys idly speculated as to the nature of the quake and it wasn't until Christopher nervously mentioned that the quake might lead to the ocean rushing in should the island sink that the boys stood up worriedly. The boys headed towards the beach and, over the course of the next hour, stood gazing at the water and questioning each other as to whether they believe the water seemed higher or the ground lower. Neither seemed the case. With a general sigh of relief, the boys began to trek back towards their favorite clearing, their idle hands already reaching towards their immature members.
Erevu, skipping ahead of the boys, was totally unprepared when he tripped over the extended root of a large white flower, its large peddles hidden behind several vine-trees while it's roots snaked through the underbrush in a haphazard manner. Quickly scrambling to his feet so as not to be laughed at, Erevu took a moment to peak between the trees at this previously undiscovered flower, it's body certainly much larger than any flower so far discovered. Opening his mouth to alert his friends, Erevu's voice caught in his throat when the flower slid towards him suddenly, it's body not planted firmly in the vine-covered soil and instead supported by it's network of roots, which were now acting like legs and propelling the large plant forward. Turning to retreat, Erevu suddenly found that one of the white flower's roots hand snaked around his ankle and, as he began to struggle, the plant slid through the trees and...
...minute he'd been staring at the large hole in the ground and the large white flowers crawling out of it, the next he was flat on his back looking up at the sky, a large pale flower pedal underneath him like a bed. Song struggled for a moment, hoping to break free from his confines, but the flower that now had hold of him was keeping him immobile.
The flower was big; perhaps the size of a fully-grown panda bear. It's pedals were pale white and large, their soft smooth surfaces full and strong. The pedals came together in a center that was invisible; so deep was the shadow, that Song, despite craning his neck, couldn't see where the pedals met nor could he see the beginning of the many filaments that grew from the dark hole that made up the flower's dark center. The four filaments that held him were thin but incredibly strong, their smooth fleshy skin rubbing against his ankles and wrists as they kept him firmly on his back, the white pedal underneath both comfortable and terrifying. His legs were in the air, the filaments holding his legs as a mother might hold her infant so as to clean it's backside; though in Song's case, his legs were spread open and both his anus and genitals were exposed and vulnerable. His hands, meanwhile, were quickly drawn up toward the center of the flower, exposing the boy's hairless armpits and forcing the boy into a position where he could not use his arms to help him escape. Not five seconds had past from the moment Song was grabbed till the moment his head stopped spinning and he was trapped.
Suddenly, the flower began to move through the jungle. Turning his head to both sides and peering through the gaps of the flower pedals, Song could see that the deep brown roots of the flower were dexterously reaching out and, finding purchase, pulling the flower along. It was, Song pondered briefly, as if the flower has many legs that allowed it to be mobile. A sudden jolt of wetness between his legs caused Song to snap his head forward and notice, for the first time, a fifth filament had extended from the center of the flower and now found itself perilously close to Song's clenched anus - it's undulating motions, like a snake, causing the boy to suddenly fear for his nether regions. The end of the filament, as if to show the boy it meant no harm, suddenly opened up slightly and a small weak stream of warm blue liquid, not quite the consistency of water but a little too thin to be thought of as a mucus, sprayed out; the warm goo hitting the boy's hairless anus just as it must have a moment earlier.
Song frowned. The goo, which was now running between the cheeks of his backside and onto the pedal (and presumably from their onto the ground), caused his skin to tingle slightly, the feeling an odd mix of itchiness, burning, and the strange feeling one gets after a lightning storm. Suddenly, a noise above Song caused him to look towards the base of the fifth filament and he watch in curiosity, and then in horror, as the thin stalk suddenly began to bulge outwards, the bulge traveling outward along the stalk and closer to the mouth of the filament. It was almost as if...
...his pug nose in horror as Snorri watched the filament engorge inch by inch, the thickening approaching the head of the filament rapidly. Around him, Snorri could hear the other Viking boys crying out in alarm as each struggled to get away from the horrible plants, their shouts indicating that a filament was near their own rear ends and had deposited a bit of the warm itchy burning tingling goo on their unprotected anuses. Had Snorri been fifteen again, he might have had the strength to pull away. But at nine? He was helpless.
His eyes watching with frantic abandon, Snorri followed the progress of the engorging filament until the tip began to swell and the filament's head moved to within two inches of his tightly clenched anus. In many ways, Snorri thought to himself for a brief moment, it looked as if it were about to strike him. No strike came, though, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. Then, in the distance, Snorri heard one of the other boys yell wildly. A second voice joined the first. Then a third. Just as Snorri was about to drop his guard, the filament's head erupted in a thin but powerful stream of goo, the blue substance focused directly at Snorri's pink anus and ejected with enough force so as to flood past his clenched muscle and into his rectum.
Snorri gasped. The goo was rushing into him with a great deal of force and, despite his best efforts; no amount of clenching did any good. The stream being emitted from the filament was too strong; too focused. The boy shuddered as the warm liquid; with it's slight mucus-like consistency, filled his rectum and began to flood his colon. Moreover, the boy began to groan as the pressurized jet of plant goo stimulated his anal ring in a unique and not altogether unpleasant manner. And several times, his anus flared open enough that the jet of goo shot directly into his rectum and the boy jumped slightly as the blast of liquid assaulted his prostate. Then he reached his limit.
"Oh. Oh no!" cried Snorri, unable to hear similar cries erupting around him. It was too much. Too fast. The boy began to thrash as an uncomfortable cramped feeling spread throughout his pelvis and he watched, eyes wide open, as his small smooth belly began to distend. "Oh! Stop! Stop! Ugh! Ugh!" he chanted as more and more of the liquid filled him and he wrestled unsuccessfully with the filaments holding him. Suddenly feeling as if he would burst, the boy did the only reasonable thing. Instead of clenching his anus, he seized on the feeling of fullness and attempted to eject the goo as if he were defecating.
A large splat sounded as a great deal of the goo was violently expelled from his anus and landed on the bottom portion of the flower pedal and the ground. Taking a deep breath, the boy contracted his rectal muscles again and another load of goo erupted from his puffy anus. For a moment, the feeling of fullness subsided. Then, like an ever flowing river, the feeling returned as the filament continued to focus it's powerful jet of plant goo directly at the boy's backside. Within a moment, equilibrium was established. The plant continued to direct the powerful stream of goo directly into his anus and Snorri continued to contract his muscles, effectively ejecting the blue liquid. Liquid was coming in while liquid was coming out, causing the boy to pant as he struggled to eject the invading liquid. Moreover, the constant back and forth on his anal lips and walls was causing the boy an odd sort of pleasure and this pleasure, coupled with the sharp jolts of intense feeling when the stream of goo was angled such that it hit his prostate with full force, cause the boy to begin to become erect.
And then the filament stopped its stream. The sudden unexpected lack of pressure meant that Snorri could evacuate his bowels completely and, as a huge stream of blue plant biomatter erupted from his sensitive anal ring, the boy heaved a sigh of relief. His stomach shrank. His cramping stopped. He sighed in relief.
That relief was short lived. Just as the goo had caused an odd sensation when a small bit of it had landed on his exposed anus, now his entire anus, rectal cavity, and a good deal of his lower colon were coated in the stuff. Almost immediately after the boy breathed his sigh of relief, the burning, itching, tingling feeling began to seize the boy's pelvic area and he suddenly found himself wiggling again. This time, though, it was in an odd mix of pleasure and... desire. The feeling was driving him nuts - like a thousand little ants were crawling all over his anus and inside his rectum. As the seconds ticked by, Snorri found himself moaning as if he were in heat, the need for something, anything, to assuage the feeling that was driving him crazy became his sole focus. Had the filaments released his hands, he would have doubled over and shoved as many fingers as he could deep into his rectum, oblivious to his erect member. The plant didn't, of course. Instead, the boy found him self whining and, had he cared to listen, he would have heard whining all around.
Then, as if it had never stopped, the fifth filament suddenly erupted another stream of the blue plant goo right at his pink anus, catching the boy unguarded and flooding his insides once again. This time, the boy moaned in relief as the new feeling of being doused in goo swept aside the maddening feelings. Then, just as before, the boy suddenly felt the urge to defecate and, almost immediately after, the oncoming immediacy of cramps. As his belly began to swell again, Snorri seized all his strength and, with a great strain, attempted to evacuate his bowels.
What Snorri didn't realize was that, in doing so, his anus flared open and, though he was able to expel a great deal of the flooding goo, he left his anus open enough for the powerful stream to find his prostate once more. The boy gasped but, instead of stopping his attempt at defecating, he simply clenched his teeth and continued. That, in turn, made his prostate the prime target for the stream. Again, equilibrium was reached, the boy clenching his muscles in an attempt to expel the invading liquid while the filament sent a jet of plant good straight past his sphincter and aggressively over his prostate. Snorri let out a moan, the pleasure in his prostate building slowly to a crescendo before the plant stopped again, causing the boy to expel the remaining liquid. Again, he let out a sigh and again the itching, burning, tingling feelings returned. Within a few moments, the boy found himself wanting to be filled; pleading with the plant to shoot its goo back into him so that...
...over and over, the boys were given their goo enemas. Over and over, their dilated anuses were teased by dueling incoming and outgoing jets of blue goo. Over and over, powerful streams of plant goo hammered the immature prostates. Over and over, the boys expelled the liquid all over the plant and ground. Over and over, the boys begged to be filled again as the itchy burny tingling feeling overwhelmed them. Over and over, the forest was filled with the pleasurable howls of sixty-seven pre-teens. Over and over, the pleasure built, brick by brick, towards critical mass. Over and over, over and over.
Then the anal orgasms began.
"Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh SHHHIIITTTT!!!!!" yelled one boy as he began to convulse.
"Yeah! UGH! Yeah! UGH! UGH!" cried a second.
"HELP! OH NO! HELP! IT'S... IT'S... NOOOOOOOOO!!!!" groaned a third.
Boy after boy suddenly found, much to his dismay, that his anal cavity and prostate could only take so much stimulation before the building pleasure reached a plateau and he was unceremoniously thrown off; the feeling growing more and more insistent, like the buildup to a traditional orgasm, but culminating in a different but no less powerful eruption of pleasure from deep within his tiny frame. Boys began to gasp as the pleasurable tsunami rushed through their bodies, from the tips of their toes to the top of their ears, from the flared coronal heads of their straining erections to their stiff nipples to their rapidly convulsing sphincters. They shook and cried and grunted and snorted and moaned. In fact, the forest became the setting for a great concert of wails, the sound of the boys all experiencing, for the first time in their lives, a powerful direct anal orgasm.
Then, as if this was the signal to begin, the goo-spouting filament ceased it's steady stream of blue plant biomatter and began to quiver. Softly at first, the filament rapidly increased its vibrations so that, only a few heartbeats later, the end of the tendril was filling the air with a loud buzzing noise, it's imperceptibly fast vibrations unnoticed by the boys as they continued to writhe through the tail end of their anal orgasm. The tendrils dove forward; their buzzing tips sliding effortlessly past the twitching anal muscles of the boys and the blue goo being forcibly ejected from their bowels.
The boys reacted immediately, screaming in pleasure as their fading anal orgasms were suddenly renewed several times over; the vibrating filament first teasing their puffy anal lips, then their sphincters, and then their rectal walls before finally nestling next to their prostates. The boys continued to wail, no longer intelligible and many close to passing out from the overwhelming sensations. The vibrating filament swelled slightly as it began to pump a new liquid, a warm brown sludge, into their bodies, moments passing before the sludge began to seep around the tendril and out into the open. The vibrating, continuing non-stop, forced the boys to experience a continued anal orgasm, the white flower not allowing the boys to pull away from the powerful feelings until, mercifully, the prolonged orgasm became too much and boy after boy began to pass out...
...awoke with a start, his body tingling all over as he lay in the middle of a comfortable pile of vines. Had that really happened? Had white flowers really done those things to he and Ennius? Porcius rolled onto his side and glanced at his brother, the younger boy asleep only a few feet away and breathing contently. Figuring it had to be a dream, the young Roman began to stand but stopped, frozen, as he surveyed their surroundings. The vines around him were covered in blue and brown goo. Some of them were bent at odd angles, as if they had been pushed or pulled by some force. His eyes darting back to his brother, Porcius's breath hitched when he realized his brother was lying in a pile of goo as well. Looking more closely, he saw, to his horror, that his brother's wrists and ankles were somewhat bruised, as if they... as if they had been held in place.
Porcius slowly brought his own wrists up to his eyes and, seeing the evidence there, sighed. It hadn't been a dream. As if that realization wasn't enough, the boy, still in a half crouch, suddenly felt the need to go and an involuntary squeeze suddenly forced a small torrent of liquid from his bowels.
As the morning progressed, the brothers talked a bit about their experience at the hands of the flowers. They took turns examining each other's anus and rectum for damage, though both found none. Wanting to be sure, the two boys, somewhat bashfully, used their fingers to probe each other's backsides so as to ensure there was no tearing or discomfort. Other than being slightly uncomfortable with his brother's finger up his bottom, neither boy complained of damage. Soon, the boys, unsure what else to do, began to hunt for fresh water and fruit, their day falling into the same patter as before. Hunt for the newly open red flowers. Drink and eat the sweet brown fruit. Try to think of a way off the island. And, after the ordeal with the no longer able to be found white flowers, keep an eye out for island dangers. This pattern...
...had been nearly a week since Ajeet had seen the devilish white flowers and he wasn't sure how to feel. Though the ordeal had been scary, his pre-pubescent penis would get incredibly hard every time he thought about the event and, much to his delight, he found he could masturbate freely and regularly to the fantasy of the white flower choosing to do things to him again. And to his great delight, he found himself ejaculating again, though his semen had a rather pink coloring to it and, if Ajeet was honest, his climaxes didn't feel as they had before when his body had been older. Indeed, though this pink semen erupted at every climax, the boy wondered why he still felt as if his climaxes were dry and why he didn't feel the need to rest after orgasm.
What was more troubling to the boy than the pink semen, however, was his odd weight gain. Over the past few days, the boy found that his belly, previously flat, had begun to bulge outward. Moreover, his once flat chest was beginning show signs of growth as his breasts became softer, fuller, and larger. The area around his nipples, previously very small, had clearly gotten bigger and his nipples themselves were starting to swell. At one point, the boy absentmindedly used his thumb and forefinger to tweak his right nipple and the result, an immediate erection and a deep pleasant throbbing from his right breast, convinced the boy that something was changing. In fact...
...Muhaka tiredly. "What comes next?" the boy thought to himself as he and the other boys wandered, or rather waddled, through the jungle in search of fruit and water. All the boys were rather uncomfortable and the reason, their distended bellies and large engorged breasts, made it hard to find the energy to seek out sustenance. It was only the intense hunger and thirst that drove them onward, their backs and shoulders aching at the strain.
Eventually, the boys wandered into a small clearing and paused for a rest. Sliding to the ground carefully, weary of his large belly, Muhaka listened absentmindedly while Christopher, their white brother, whispered quietly with Erevu. The subject, Muhaka assumed, was one of two continuing discussions: either the nature of their odd pink semen or the boys' transformation from pre-pubescent nine year olds to prepubescent pregnant nine year olds. Of course, none of the boys thought they were actually pregnant - they only used that term because they looked so much like the women of the village just before they gave birth; with large swollen bellies and breasts the size of the juju fruits.
Suddenly, a small moan came from the other side of the clearing and Muhaka glanced over to see Mahakne and Oojiua sitting very close together. Mahakne was moaning, his head pushed back and his legs spread wide. Oojiua was casually masturbating Mahakne with one hand, not an unusual sight. Indeed, the boys of Nuchaktae had a longstanding tradition of masturbating each other so as to build the bonds of friendship. This tradition had taken on a new meaning in the past few days, of course, because each boy's belly had swollen to such a degree, that all nine found it very difficult to reach their skinny arms around their flesh to grasp their boyhoods and thus the only way to satisfy ones' lusts was to have another boy take care of the need. What caused Muhaka's eyes to widen, though, was not this masturbatory action. Instead, it was the fact that Oojiua's other hand was casually squeezing Mahakne's right breast while his lips were gently sucking on Mahakne's left nipple. Though Muhaka couldn't tell what may or may not have been flowing into Oojiua's mouth, he could see with perfect clarity the river of liquid... of milk... running down the front of Mahakne's chest; his right breast a fountain of the stuff...
...had been feeling stranger and stranger as the morning progressed and now, lying under a large tree while the noonday sun beat down on the island, Song felt as if he was losing touch with reality. The lower half of his body tingled uncontrollably and, though Song had been unable to touch his penis in days due to his distended belly, he could tell he was erect and, if the feelings were anything to go by, somehow slowly approaching an orgasm. He moaned, half in pleasure and half in frustration. What was going on?
His stomach rumbled loudly and the boy tried to sit up, his strength all but gone and leaving him flat on his back. Then, out of nowhere, a sharp jolt of energy seemed to pass through his stomach and, grunting, the boy lifted his knees and planted his feet firmly on the ground, just in time for anus to open and a small torrent of liquid to come crashing out. Though Song was on his back, he could hear the splat as the liquid hit the ground and he could feel wetness on his backside. Despite turning his head, however, the boy couldn't see what he had just defecated.
"Ugh! Oh Ugh!" the boy suddenly grunted throatily as he felt a rush of pleasurable movement in his bowels. Contracting his muscles, he tried to expel whatever it was but, as best he could tell, nothing came out. Then, just as he though to give up, the feelings redoubled and, to his surprise, he could feel his sphincter open and a long tube of something slide casually out of his body. His sphincter refused to close, however, and for a moment, Song became confused, in part from the feeling of his anus stretched around something fleshy and in part from the now powerful pre-climax that was sweeping through is body...
...on his back, the waves of sexual energy whipping though him, Finnr turned his head towards Vali and his eyes went wide. Only a few feet from him, Vali was moaning and groaning, as were all the boys. However, from this angle, Finnr had an unobstructed view of Vali's backside and his now gaping anus. Moreover, Finnr had an unobstructed view of the three clear filaments, the same sorts of filaments from the white flowers, as they slid gracefully out of his friend and between the boys outstretched legs; anchored, as it seemed, deep inside Vali but now free to roam his body.
Looking between his own knees, Finn gasped as he saw three more filaments, presumably sticking out of his own backside, undulating in place above his bloated stomach, as if they were serpents preparing to strike. And strike they did.
Before Finnr could react, one of the filaments dipped below his stomach and began to engulf his boyhood. Though his belly obscured his view, Finnr could feel every centimeter of the filaments movement; it's tip opening up around his coronal head as it slid agonizingly over his sensitive gland, the moment it rubbed wickedly over his frenulum, and it's smooth slick warmth as it made it's way unobstructed down his rigid shaft. An internal muscle within the filament began to rapidly stroke the boy, giving him amazing masturbatory sensations without the filament having to dislodge itself from his erect member. Finnr came, his penis ejaculating a steady stream of his pink semen as the boy shook violently, throwing his head back. "AHHHH AHHHH AYYYYEEEE!!!!" he squealed, his eyes unfocused. Dimly in the background, he heard other screams of pleasure as boy after boy endured the climactic assault of the first filament to leave their rectums.
The other two filaments seized the moment and lunged forward, each opening its tip and latching onto one of Finnr's nipples. Immediately, they began a steady suction while an internal muscle began to tease and stroke Finnr's sensitive teats. The boy's reaction was instantaneous. Though he was already in the middle of one orgasm, the feelings being generated by his hyper-sensitive nipples caused the boy to experience a secondary climax on top of the first, inundating his body with continuous orgasmic delight without any letdown. The boy continued to ejaculate and his breasts, reacting to the suction, began to produce milk. As the boy wiggled and writhed in orgasm, his breast milk and semen filled the filaments and rapidly rushed towards the base of the appendages deep inside his bowels.
With no refractory period and with hypersensitivity in both their nipples and their members, the boys maintained a continuous climax - their bodies pumping milk and semen through the filaments and deep into their rectums. A minute passed. Two. The boys were screaming in pleasure, trying to ride the unstoppable feelings. Three minutes. Four. The boys yelled incoherently. Five minutes. Six. A sudden and profound urge seized each boy despite his climax, a building pressure deep in his bowels. Force. Movement. The sudden need to...
....clearing was filled with many of the American teenagers, their now prepubescent nine-year-old bodies overwhelmed by the aggressive filaments protruding from their assholes and milking there sensitive erections and breasts to a continuous climax. The boys howled and writhed in pleasure, their semen and milk flooding into the hungry filaments and feeding whatever lay growing deep in their bowels. Suddenly, the music of their communal climax changed as boy after boy let out a throaty groan and thrust his pelvis into the air, his rectum stretching impossibly wider as a large brown seed emerged and landed unceremoniously onto the ground, the three filaments extending from its tip still busily milking the boys.
Plop. Plop. Plop. The forest was alive with the birth of the new plants as the boys, their now gaping assholes closing rapidly and their mountainous bellies slowly shrinking, shivered and began to pass out. Sensing their carriers becoming unconscious, the seedlings began to withdraw their filaments back into themselves and, at the same time, began burrowing into the soft vine covered ground of the island. Only minutes after their birth, the seeds were no longer visible above ground.
The boys, exhausted from their ordeal, lay strewn about the many clearings deep in a restorative slumber. For forty-eight hours, the youngsters slept, their bodies slowly expelling the wide variety of colorful liquid toxins responsible for their unimaginable changes. Yellow liquid rushed gleefully from their ears and their breasts shrank. Blue goo ran steadily from their bellybuttons and their stomachs began to flatten. Thick orange sludge leaked from their rectums and the boys began to grow older, their bodies rapidly changing back to the age they were when they first arrived on the island. By the time the...
...sun finally pulled the boy from his slumber, and Ennius slowly began to stir. His mind, jumbled with sleep and confusing images, gradually began to make sense of the world around him. Stretching and opening his eyes, the fourteen-year-old sat up and surveyed his surroundings. Off to his left was his brother Porcius, the fifteen-year-old sleeping soundly in the nook of two large vines. The sun indicated it was around midday, though his confused sense of time made it difficult for Ennius to recall just when he went to bed last. The clearing itself was...
The boy's eyes suddenly shot back to his brother. His fifteen-year-old brother. His brother who had a smattering of hair across his body and a normal looking pubic mound, his bush of pubic hair clearly visible above a semi-erect and, more importantly, clearly teenage member. Ennius's hands shot to his own boyhood and he gave out a loud "woop!" when he discovered that his body was like it was before - normal. No longer the immature child he'd been for the past... well... however long. No, he was back to normal!
Jumping up, Ennius rushed over to his brother and began to shake him awake, his smile and laughter...
...and Ajeet felt sand! Real sand! The kind of sand that you feel between your toes and fingers! Throwing himself on the beach, the naked teen kissed the ground, thanking the universe that he was off the island.
He'd woken up several days earlier to discover himself back to normal and plenty of water and fruit available throughout the island for him. Famished and dehydrated, he had consumed a great deal of it mindful of the fact that this fruit was most likely the cause of all the problems he'd had while stranded on the floating prison. And yet, nothing happened. Then, as luck would have it, this very morning, while standing on the edge of the island, Ajeet had seen a dark shape in the distance. And it got closer!
By early afternoon, the land was only a few hundred feet from the edge of the island itself; the ocean between the two land masses seeming like a small stream rather than part of the majestic sea Ajeet had been used to staring at. Thinking this was his chance, the boy crossed the small channel, glad that the water only reached his hips at it's deepest point and unnerved when his feet felt the underwater vines give way to actual sandy land. And here he was, finally, away from the island that had been his home for an indeterminable amount of time. Rolling onto his back, the boy glanced up and gasped. The island was already quite far away, the small channel now, clearly, an ocean barrier. As he watched, the island continued to drift out to sea until, perhaps and hour later, it was gone.
Taking a deep breath, Ajeet stood up and turned to the beach before him. He had no idea where he was. Still, standing around would get him nowhere so he casually placed one foot forward and...
The man disengaged himself from the computer, lay back, and closed his eyes. Fascinating. Simply fascinating. He knew, generally, how the story ended for each boy he'd seen. History was littered with references of strange looking boys speaking even stranger tongues appearing on beaches around the world. Some of those boys, he assumed, made it back to their home; probably the one's who were abducted once technology made the world smaller. Others were not as lucky, though the piecemeal records seemed to indicate that many of them blended into the surrounding societies and adapted to their new realities. That said, what happened after they left the island was of little concern to the man and the ARX300 never followed them inland. Instead, it stayed with the mysterious island as it scoured the oceans for new boys to strand. Opening his eyes, the man reached for a note pad and began to write down his initial thoughts. Halfway through writing the date, though, he stopped, put the pen down, and plugged himself back into the machine for another look.
The reviewing period for this story has ended.