The Origins of Incest Island

Not that the bitch didn't deserve it.

In a way, Bethany was almost proud of her dad. He'd finally shown himself to be something more than the ineffectual yet effete history teacher he'd so often proved himself to be. Yes, Martin Bloom would happily tell you about the three grueling days that comprised the Battle of Gettysburg, about the fatal charge that brought an end to the great Southern cause. But he never failed to put his students into a bored coma by delving too far into obscure details and ignoring the big picture. He was a good man, never hesitating to bend over backwards and help his students with makeup work or extra credit. At first, every student loved this; they appreciated the opportunity to avoid a tanning by working hard at the last minute. But ultimately, Mr. Bloom was taken advantage of by privileged brats who would rather do anything but work.

Now here she was, thousands of miles away from her home; separated from everything and everyone she'd ever known. She was stranded, all alone on some random island with her parents and brother Brian, forced to live in a place her parents refused to acknowledge except in hushed tones or heated arguments during the final few days before they sold their home and all their possessions. Everything except what each of them could fit in a suitcase.

Worse, she knew from the reaction of the town, that her old life, her friendships, were all a vapid lie. A fake facade of civility that evaporate once she really needed help.

As the feelings of betrayal and frustration dissipated, Bethany began longing for the change. She'd long since grown bored with drinking coffee with her friends and forgetting to tip at the local diner. Back in Cherokee, there was nothing exciting to do within 200 miles. And try thought she might, there was no one from her hometown that she really missed.

Her best friends had always been more interested in attending church socials, school dances, and droning on about which football player they liked. Those girls were going to get married as soon as they could and would happily abandon any pretense or past posturing of leaving their hometown, even if just for college. The last few months had made clear the vapidity of these people she called her friends. After her father's foolish and embarrassing behavior, they'd all given her the cold shoulder. When it was all said and done, she didn't even attend prom. Those days were long in the past, discarded a thousand miles away.

The new Bethany craved adventure. So, she read; she listened; she drank in the world around her. The idea of living in Japan, or really in any other foreign country for that matter, struck her as far better than the boring, trudging existence her former life could offer. Even with just a month left to graduation, she considered ending it early and running off to New York or LA - someplace exciting where the people were new and different. Someplace where she could be different.

She supposed her wish had come true; her life now was certainly different. So different in the fact that her father had forbidden her from going outside. He finally relented; in part because of the ridiculousness of such a rule and his inability to enforce it.

He'd sort of gotten his way immediately. Those first few days after they arrived on the island were insular. They'd all huddled together, fearing to stray far from one another as they adjusted to the newness of it all. Everything from the new jungle climate to the tedious unpacking and claiming of their new home had kept them indoors and within arm's reach.

It wasn't Liam's home anymore. Martin had insisted upon this and Mr. Proctor, their prim and proper valet, confirmed it was so. Like the rest of the island's denizens, Liam preferred to live the simple life in one of the prefabricated homes her mother had told her about. With the same breath, she also forbid her from exploring the island. The time would come when she could, her mother told her, but not now. Still, the mansion was beautiful, and despite her father's urging, Bethany continued to think of it as Liam's home. One of their first points of familial contention had been the scandalous library, full of different erotic, histories, and pornographic photos. Materials her father absolutely forbid her to look upon. But his authority had slowly been eroding, and now, only Brian showed him any deference.

The house was big enough to easily hide almost any activity. And though she appreciated the luxury of having her own bathroom, these days, Bethany practically lived in the library, devouring a reading list left behind by her late uncle. She poured through his books - everything he thought to recommend. She found herself pouring over one essay in particular. It was one of Liam's last works, interestingly titled, The Taste of Taboo...

Though it began in a fairly innocuous and poetic fashion it served as a direct challenge to her strict religious upbringing. Unlike the derivative psalms and proverbs she'd once struggled to memorize, Bethany found herself taking each word with meticulous care. She stopped after each paragraph to consider the message behind the prose.

A Taste of Taboo

By LB

Here is the best story about the shouldn't...

A patriarchal voice whispers in the wild that only one trifle is forbidden. To the humans that hear, all needs are fulfilled. So what is left?

A sole want.

Desire...

Forbidden fruit, neatly displayed at the center of an eternal garden. Not warded off by spells or swords. Not held high above the ground or buried beneath the soil where one must exert an extraordinary effort to earn their passion.

Clear, accessible, effortless craving... against an opaque, ambiguous ultimatum, absent any explanation.

We are all Eve - tempted. Begging to say yes to the serpent as authority screams no. Possessing pales compared to the pursuit. Seeking fulfillment less than repealing that prohibition

We do not need - so we must want.

*****

Lately, her mom seemed much more well-adjusted to their change of scenery. She encouraged them to be patient and bide their time while their father grew more accustomed to their new reality.

Warning the Bethany and Brian not to go too far into the island only encouraged to go exploring. At first, Mary kept a tight watch on her flock, making sure that none of her offspring took off down the obvious path towards the village. But after a week or so, she began to relax. With her mom's attention waning, Bethany seized her opportunity. She picked out some tight fitting jeans shorts, ones she would be comfortable to go swimming in, and a tight, dark top to go with it. The shirt was sleeveless and showed off more than a little of her cleavage. Not that she thought there was much to show. She constantly wished for breasts like her mother's - large and attention-grabbing,

Bethany didn't dare travel down the forbidden path in plain sight. Instead, she broke through the jungle and worked her way down a barely-trodden path that she hoped would lead directly to the beach. The thought of being cooped up on this island with only her family and never even touching her toes in the Pacific Ocean seemed a great travesty, one she determined to rectify.

She picked up a few nicks and scrapes as she pushed her way through the dense foliage. It didn't bother her though; her will was resolute and determined to find the ocean. Her legs burned and ached, but she pressed on. Finally, she found her way past the dark, misshapen rocks that tore past her flip-flops until the whiter sands materialized beneath her feet. From the moment she arrived on its shores, the ocean had her in its thrall.

She loved it.

The beach seemed endless. Bethany took a look around and saw she was entirely alone. Upon realizing her solitary situation, a scandalous thought came over her. It tickled her as though it was a warm, bubbly sensation, driving its way up from between her legs. If this place was truly some sort of forbidden free-for-all, then there was nothing to stop her from experiencing the ocean for the first time as God intended it - completely naked. There was a moment's hesitation, a nervous glance back over her shoulder to see if anyone had followed close behind. Then, her fears dismissed, she took off her top and set it on a nearby rock.

Her breasts felt a cold as a gust of sea breeze blew over her. She looked down at her bare chest, not wishing there was more to see, but that there was someone to see them. Her tiny nipples hardened and pushed outward. She stood still for a moment, with her hands on her hips and her thumbs hooked in her shorts as she considered taking this final step.

Her decision made, she pulled down the final curtain, and without knowing it, put an end to a chapter of her life. It was a permanent advancement, as she unknowingly stripped for an unseen audience. Unhindered by the hidden onlooker, she bent over, exposing her ample, apple-shaped bottom so as to kick off the denim shorts. Standing there, completely naked in nature like some savage on a deserted island, Bethany experienced a sensation entirely strange and wholly exotic.

She felt free.

Like many of the other girls in her school, Bethany had embraced the fad of shaving her pubic hair so that her tiny sex could draw more attention. Not that she had ever experienced any attention, male or otherwise. Like most of the girls, and truthfully, most of the boys in Cherokee, Oklahoma, she'd had almost no exposure to even the most casual or candid conversations about sex. Most of what she'd learned had been preserved in time from the Stone Age. Each lesson designed to scare kids into thinking that masturbation might cause blindness, that wasted sperm might as well have been shot directly into God's eye, and that anything outside of the marital bed was a taboo only to be crossed at the peril of ostracization and eternal hellfire.

Though she knew those lessons were ridiculous, some part of her expected an angry bolt of lightning to come thundering down and zap her dead right there on the beach. The righteous electricity would reduce her beautiful, young 18-year-old body into a nondescript clump of ash and crystallized sand. Her remains would serve a brutal warning to anyone else who dared flout the sanctimonious, outdated expectations that thrived in small, rural communities like the one she'd escaped. Her mind ducked past the puritanical lessons of her past. She glanced back over her shoulder once more, peering everywhere except the place where one solitary person stood, hidden by the trees they gazed through. The unseen eyes watched her every move, waiting desperately to see the slight curve of her breasts when she turned around.

But Bethany didn't turn. Instead, she ran straight to the ocean, her muscular legs rippling; her full butt bouncing adorable as she sprinted towards the water. It was as though she sought a baptismal for most egregious of sins: celibacy. The water was frigid at first; the chill ran through to her bones. It was all she could bear as a wave splashed against her tits, leaving seafoam all over her body, like that famous painting - minus the clamshell.

She laughed, as much at herself as at the joy she felt in thumbing her nose at everything she'd ever been taught to fear. Without hesitation, she exchanged her moral anxieties for one single moment of pure ecstasy and exhilaration. Because at that moment, eternity in hell couldn't compare to the pure, unadulterated pleasure of finally feeling free in this new and strange place.

She swam out, almost past the breakers, towards the setting sun. Bethany kept the beach in sight as she paddled out, treading water as she looked out into the horizon. There, she found the expanse of the ocean truly breathtaking. She thought that only a sailor could ever share this experience. Oklahoma had been the place she was born, but in this moment, she knew she belonged in this place. Not just to this tiny corner of Japan, but to the world.

It was the kind of life-changing epiphany common for those in their teenage years. The idea to do something wild and crazy like running off and starting a band, or switching majors to something completely impractical. It had been an accidental moment of clarity that suddenly overtakes the common problems and concerns of the day, cramming everything down underneath this new idea of monumental importance.

She might've stayed in the water forever if had it not been for the setting sun.

There was something special about feeling such a large body of water pressed against her naked body for the first time. Especially once she acclimated to the cold water. As she swam, everything seemed perfectly in balance. Bethany knew that this was the only way she'd ever set foot in the water again - completely nude. It was a feeling of being at one with nature. Of being a part of the ecosystem instead of something above it, something which warped and wove the earth into artificial constructs, needlessly built out of some puritanical fetish. It occurred to Bethany that the problem was no longer hers to bear. She'd finally glimpsed something in her future that felt as attainable as the shoreline.

There was something wonderful to be said for that kind of hope. Something to be screamed and shouted. And as she exited the blue expanse, the realization stayed with her.

She shook herself off the beach, using both of her hands to ring out her long dark hair, even though she wouldn't bother to do anything more with it. She looked out again. Where before there had been apprehension, now there was only an anxious excitement. The excitement was born from the potential of someone actually watching her as she put on this naked display. But it was an ancillary thought, cradled deep within her mind. With the deliciously deviant thought tucked away, she was thrilled at simply being naked. Unashamed, she stood tall, her bare breasts in full view. Her hairless pussy stirred wickedly as she reveled in her conspicuous exposure.

She didn't want to find her clothes and resume a covered facade. She didn't want to rejoin the real world, even though that was what everyone expected. She'd never been so comfortable in her life and dreaded the idea of closing off her body again. Still, there didn't seem to be any other choice. So reluctantly, Bethany started back towards the shore. She combed the sands, trying to find the exact same spot where she'd left the rocks. At first, she wasn't worried. There was no need to be. She'd swam far enough out that it was more than possible she'd inadvertently veered off, especially as the twilight started to spread over the Cove.

She moved to her left, assuming she'd drifted with the current. But this was nothing more than a guess. The island wasn't very large and the idea of not being able to find her way back to the mansion never occurred to her. But now, she couldn't remember which brambles and branches she followed on her way through to the beach.

Panic set in once she found her book on the rocks where she was sure she'd left her clothes, only to find nothing on the sand nearby. There were no other places she hadn't searched, and her confidence waned. Just then, Bethany thought of the consequences of her actions, the stern rebukes she'd receive from her father, the groundings, the...

The what?

She laughed to herself at the ridiculous though. Here, she was an heiress to a vast island, and a mischievous idea began to take root. Bethany was an adult; she was 18 and no longer a child under her parent's care. Her thoughts returned to her late uncle, Liam Bloom. He'd created this place for people exactly like her, people who wanted to be free from society and live their lives in whatever weird ways they deemed appropriate.

So, why shouldn't she try something fun? Worrying about the judgments of others was no way to make a decision.

They were all on this island together. Why couldn't she do as the Romans did?

And, more to the point, what could her father really do about it?

The irreverent idea continued to blossom, bolstered by her own burgeoning sense of independence. It was the same instinctual impulse to pre-label oneself grown before fully understanding the world. For most 18-year-olds, the idea of becoming fully emancipated would have been foolhardy given their ignorance about the world. But in this corner of the Earth, Bethany knew nearly as much as her family. Apparently, there were plenty of people on the island who thought as she did. And as a Bloom, she had a right to claim the sanctuary of her inheritance, regardless of what her foul-mouthed and foul-mannered father said.

Bethany wasn't sure what else to do. She'd already outlined the beginnings of the forthcoming confrontation, playing it out as a vignette, over and over again in her head. With barely any sunlight remaining, she knew she had to start making her way home. There was a chance that one of her family members would see her. And as she imagined their reaction, mortified though they might be, the many arguments that played on a loop in her mind kept her resolute.

In the fading light, she pulled out Liam's last book to her favorite passage, hoping to draw from it one last bit of courage.

What imbues that apple with worth? The taste, no matter how ripe and juicy, pales to the potential of the prohibited. There is a kind of virtue in the violation, a shared sentiment between sinners who believe against better judgment that they might know better than the authority. That they might grasp around the base of the tree, and shake and shake until every morsel of knowledge, every understanding of good and evil is delivered unto them.

And with that understanding, they might make a world in their image....

A world better for surpassing the supposed moralists, those who whispered and shouted shouldn't until their cries grew crude and callow. Those who waded in the shallows, afraid to really swim...

*****

Sometimes a sentence, even out of context, can strike a person in exactly the manner needed, if not intended. And Bethany, guided by the old man so recently departed, knew she would also need to do more than just swim. Her life needed to be defined by this newborn sensual expression.

Ever so galvanized, Bethany still felt sheepish as she blustered her way back through the jungle. Her hands alternated between protectively covering her breasts and her sex from the wild, unruly prickles and sticks. Ironically, she became all too cognizant of the fundamental need to cover oneself. With every step and every breath, she grew more and more exhausted. She wondered how anyone in their right mind could call such a disaster a path. The more energy she expanded on her journey home, the more her anxiety evaporated from the sheer struggle of her fighting her way back through the untamed nature.

Explaining to her family how she'd lost her clothes once seemed like the most humiliating thing in the world. Now she was more concerned with finding her way back at all. She pushed on, the scratches and weird itches blurred into her burning muscles and aching joints until suddenly, a branch snapped just beyond her.

Despite her alarm, she was too tired to care about anyone else's opinion. Showing herself to her family, displaying herself unabashedly, seemed to be the most honest way to get it over with all at once. She would announce her independence as she beat her fists against her petite breasts. She would stand there, naked in the fresh air, and proclaim that she had tried something new and would continue to be her own person, whether on this island or elsewhere. The thought gave her a sudden rush of excitement. She would stand tall, proud and nude, and herald her adulthood by baring herself to anyone who dared to look.