Tresspassers

Trespassers

- jay japes

Featuring TimeTraxx's Jungle Princess & Sidekick

Adults Only, Strong Content

1.

Some months back, the neighboring country had itself another coup, and the deposed dictator, General Zu, fled across the border with a small group of loyalist soldiers into the realm of the Jungle Princess—which was actually a wildlife reserve, if you didn't know that already. They hid in the densest part of the forest and the General made elaborate plans for his return to power, though it wasn't likely he would be able to accomplish anything with the ill-equipped followers he still retained. The government officials in charge of the park made no effort to bring him out of there, despite increasingly angry demands from their neighbors; in fact they announced on television it wasn't true he'd ever gone in. Bribes had been paid, evidently. It didn't matter how many animals his men might eat or trees they might burn; the officials were content to let him be.

Our spirited Jungle Princess found out about all of this thanks to a small radio that a passing traveller had mistakenly left with her (an archaeology student named Sharon Poole; they had not, alas, parted amicably). She liked listening to music on it while she did her morning exercises. That day, the only station she got a good signal from kept breaking into her dance music with irritating news bulletins. She would not have paid attention to them if she had another channel to switch to. Since she hadn't, and since it was actually a pirate station run by politically-passionate students in defiance of their government, she heard the full facts about General Zu's "invasion". Straightaway, she decided she must take the matter in hand. Of course she would never have believed it was anyone else's responsibility anyway.

She must drive this new sinister intruder from her land! And all his wretched soldiers! She would show no mercy! Just as soon as she managed to track down their camp. They kept moving it around, and even if they hadn't she might not have been able to find it. Sidekick wasn't with her because the girl had gone off by herself a couple days prior in order to gather medicinal plants and replenish their stock, an essential chore the Jungle Princess never liked helping with. She found it tedious, and in any case she had no talent for identifying the right species. Without Sidekick's tracking skills to get her where she wanted to go, the Jungle Princess could wander in circles for ages, and never even notice. Thankfully, every time this happened, Sidekick could quickly find her. When she was by herself, the Jungle Princess always left a clear trail behind her (she didn't know how to go about disguising such signs, and in fact never noticed making them) and never covered much distance. Only Sidekick wouldn't start searching again until she knew there was a need to. Furthermore, she had trouble of her own to contend with.

2.

Sidekick had got treed. Like a dumb pitiful kitty cat.

She'd been stuck up there for almost an hour. It was extremely frustrating. Somehow she had inadvertently annoyed a very large, very fierce wild pig. She wasn't sure what exactly she'd done to set it off, if anything; the horrible brute just burst from the underbrush with murder in its beady eyes. Scared her half to death. She'd ran until she could run no more, and the dreadful beast would not relent. Not even splashing across a stream made it stop, though the water slowed the creature slightly for a few moments, and that gave her enough time to scramble up a tree out of reach of its tusks. Still the damn thing wouldn't give up and go away. It kept bashing its head against the bottom of the tree, wanting to shake her loose or maybe knock the whole tree over. She tried throwing seed pods at it, picked from the branches around her. Didn't help. Probably it was bad strategy, only making the evil pig more determined to get her.

Next Sidekick attempted climbing sideways to another tree, hoping she was high enough and screened with enough leaves to keep the pig from seeing. Perhaps this might have worked if the branches she reached for had been sturdier. Instead they gave way as soon as she pulled on them and she nearly dropped to her doom. She just about wet herself.

"This is ridiculous!" she exclaimed, "What am I going to do now?" And then she swore. The Jungle Princess got mad at her if she used bad language, but since she was alone, Sidekick didn't have to hold back. "Fucking pig! Fuck you! Fuck off! Fuck!" She shook her fist at it. "If I had my spear or my bow, you'd be sorry!" Why hadn't she brought her spear or her bow? Why the fuck! Well, because instead she'd been carrying her medicine bag, the big leather pouch she collected herbs and things in, and it was pretty heavy and cumbersome even when it was still mostly empty. She'd dropped it before climbing the tree.

The pig had rooted around inside the bag and finally trampled on it. Made her so furious, watching that happen and not being able to do anything! "Fucking pig! I'm gonna get you, I swear! I swear!" She shook her fist again for all the good that did.

Should she try throwing her knife at the pig? Didn't feel like a good idea. She wasn't much good at knife-throwing.

And then there was a gunshot and the pig fell dead. Several men walked up, laughing. They didn't look like hunters. They wore military uniforms, though the costumes were ragged, filthy and faded, more yellow than green. Most of them had torn off their sleeves, and some had no boots. Only one had a rifle. The rest carried machetes.

"You can come down," the shooter said, smiling at her and beckoning, "You're safe now."

It was a friendly smile, and handsome, but Sidekick wasn't fooled. She knew she'd been much safer with the pig. She stayed where she was.

"You must be the famous Jungle Princess," the man said, "We've heard wonderful stories about you."

"Hmph," was Sidekick's reply, with a toss of her head, doing her best to mimic the boastful poise of her compatriot, "Then you know I am not to be trifled with."

"We wouldn't dare, Jungle Princess. I assure you! But we could see you were in need of assistance."

"I suppose I was. You have my gratitude. I hope you will all enjoy the meat of the pig you have dispatched."

"I'm sure we shall, oh yes. Will you return to our camp with us and share our feast?"

"I apologize, but must decline your invitation. I was in the middle of something when the pig attacked me. It's important I finish my work."

The soldier nudged her tattered medicine bag with his toes. "Looks like your bag has been ruined. If you come to our camp, we can provide you with a new one. Something better, something modern."

"I would prefer to repair my own."

"I guess you don't care for modern things, living out here in the wilderness the way you do."

"Hmph," she repeated, not being able to come up with anything better.

"I guess you don't care for men like us, either, do you?"

"Men of your sort are forbidden in this jungle."

"Men of my sort. What sort is that?"

"Modern men, was all I meant."

"Ah. I see."

"She's not the Jungle Princess," another soldier cut in, "The Jungle Princess is blonde. This one is the other girl."

"Is that so? Are you the other girl?"

Sidekick shrugged.

"Why did you lie?"

Sidekick shrugged again.

"What are you scared of?"

She felt her face flush, and her stomach turned over. "I'm not scared. I'm not!"

"Come down then. Come out of that tree. Come on."

3.

It didn't go like she expected. She'd prepared herself for the worst as best as she could ... And then nothing at all happened.

Nobody tried to grab her. Nobody made threats or lewd remarks. Nobody said much of anything until they got back to the camp.

She wasn't presented to their general. He didn't like to come out of his tent. They didn't like to go in there. The men said he was drunk and asleep most of the time. Nobody wanted to wake him to tell him about her. Didn't see any reason for that. Too much hassle.

They had around twenty guys, altogether, most of them looking younger than she was. Three of them, the fattest of the bunch, concentrated on cutting up the pig and cooking it, which would be a long process, and messy. Made the camp smell horrific for quite a while, and then gradually as the meat cooked the smell turned good. Made her mouth water and her belly rumble.

They had a lot of beer to drink. She probably shouldn't have accepted any, yet eventually she did. It had been a long time since she had any alcohol. She shouldn't have been surprised how hard it hit her, and how fast. Not that it was a bad feeling. Quite the reverse.

All the soldiers wanted to do the whole day (except for the little trio of cooks) was play football (soccer). Their tents and the few vehicles they had were crammed under the trees to keep them shaded and hidden—nearby they'd found a funny sunken clearing, a shallow gorge with grass along the bottom, and they'd rigged up goals down there in the widest part out of camouflage netting. Sidekick had never played this game before; it wasn't difficult to learn the gist of it and join in. Turned out she had a talent for it. Who knew it could feel so exciting and satisfying to kick a stupid ball around? At first she was afraid it would hurt her toes, only it didn't, not very much. Provided she hit the ball at the right angle. Her little dainty toes were tougher than she'd thought! In fact most of the men played barefoot, same as her.

Everybody cheered her when she scored, and she kept doing it. So they all kept cheering. It was hilarious, and it was awesome! She scored more than anybody else, except with all the beer she'd drank, she kept mixing up which side she was supposed to be on. And there were frequent dizzy spells to contend them. She didn't mind them; they added to the game.

They blasted loud music from big battered black boxes set up along the top ridges of the gorge. Crazy stuff, like nothing she'd ever heard before. The men pumped their fists over their heads and chanted along with the words as they ran back and forth and back and forth in the ongoing course of the game. Everything they recited was too fast and garbled for her to understand. The thunderous rhythm, though, soon got under her skin. Somehow it seemed to take control of her body. She realized every time she moved, she did it in time to those pulses, which felt warm as they surged through the core of her being. What a weird, wondrous feeling! By then all the men moved with the same rhythm—all of them were dancing as much they were playing football. It didn't really disrupt the game. It enhanced it instead, like magic.

The sun was directly overhead and the heat got worse and worse. Most of the soldiers had flung off their shirts. Many shed their trousers as well and played in their underwear. Sidekick realized she'd lost her top, at some point. She didn't know when it had happened or where the thing had gone. Her skin was slick and shiny with sweat. Of course that was equally true of all the men. They had darker skin than hers, and it seemed to make them shinier. The most muscular of them looked like obsidian sculptures. Quite striking, even spectacular. Nobody seemed to be looking at her differently, though. She decided there was no point making a fuss about this. She kept on playing/dancing like nothing had changed. It wasn't entirely true. Now that she'd noticed it, her breasts flying around loose was a little uncomfortable, and kept throwing off her balance. She tried holding them in place with one arm under them or across her chest as she ran or made a kick. Didn't work very well. Some of the men snickered at her when she did that, and her nipples ached when her forearm pressed on them. In fact they did more than that; they sent a jolt through her, like an electric shock. She hadn't realized how stiff and sensitive they'd got. But it was no surprise that had happened, exposed in these circumstances.

And then in the middle of trying to take the ball back from a guy that just stole it from her, the cord of her loincloth came loose for some reason. Before she knew what was happening, the last of her coverings had dropped down her legs around her ankles, almost tripping her. She shrieked, but didn't let it stop her from trying to get the ball back. She acted like that was all that mattered, and it was a good strategy—it kept her from freezing up with mortification. Losing the damn dinky skirt would be no big deal if she didn't let embarrassment overwhelm her.

She had to jump and shake in place to get her feet free from the fallen loincloth, swearing as she did. Finally the damn thing ripped clear and she could have another go at the ball. She got it! It was too easy, actually. For some reason her adversary had frozen up. Just stood still and stared at her with his mouth open as she swept the ball back into her power and headed for the goal, whooping in triumph.

4.

Everybody was taking a break, lounging along the top edges of the gorge, downing more beer as they dangled their feet. Sidekick thought she had won the game. Many of the men disagreed with her, but despite all their shouts and derision, nobody was acting really angry about it. The whole rowdy group was enjoying themselves too much. Maybe in a little while they'd play another match, or just continue the one from before.

It was wonderful to be naked in front of all these guys and not have anyone make a big deal out of it. Like nobody had noticed. Like it didn't matter one bit. It was wonderful. It was freeing. She'd never felt like this before, totally comfortable without clothes on. But it wasn't like she didn't feel it at all, as if it was exactly the same as being as dressed. Because of course it wasn't. But this seemed perfectly safe and relaxed. It shouldn't feel like that, not in front of twenty drunk soldiers. That was the key. It should have felt scary. It should have felt petrifying. Instead it was just ... nice. No, it was better than that, it was wonderful! She'd never felt so sure of herself, and the confidence gave her a powerful rush, making her head swim. Some of that swimminess was from all the beer, obviously, but not the whole of it. There was more going on, much more.

In total, this was ... exciting.

Sidekick was sitting next to one of the music box things. She was too close to it and her ears were starting to hurt. She decided, since the music blared out the front of the thing, to try sitting on top the box instead. The music would still be loud up there but maybe it wouldn't be clobbering her directly. Or maybe it would. She would still be right next to it, only next to a different side, the uppermost side, which might not lessen the impact at all. Still she decided to try it, just to find out. And she would also be sitting higher up than everybody else, all the men around her. She wanted to feel what that would be like, everybody looking up at her when they looked at her, like she was on a pedestal. Well, she would be. Sidekick climbed atop the box with her beer bottle and folded her legs in the so-called lotus pose.

"Oh my! Oh dear! Oh! Ohhooh!"

The whole box was pulsing, vibrating. She hadn't realized what that would feel like, resting the most sensitive places of her unclad body against that spastic sun-baked surface. She hadn't realized how charged up she was, between her legs, swollen and seeping. Her sensitive spots were a hundred times more sensitive than normal—and normally, any regular moment of any regular day, they were pretty darned sensitive to begin with.

It was much too strong a sensation, or rather, a whole explosive series of sensations. Exqusite currents, but much too intense to bear. Instinctively, Sidekick wanted/needed to leap away, a natural defensive reflex. She found she could not. She couldn't get herself clear! Almost as if she was being electrocuted, her body jerked and wobbled quite a bit, but no leaping-to-safety occurred. Her sweat-soaked bottom had stuck fast to the wood, and in the same instant, all the strength had dissolved from her legs, while most of her capacity for coherent thought (those few little fragments the beer and her exertions had left her with) dissolved from her head. Entirely consumed by the vibration of the overpowered speaker, Sidekick pretty much dissolved altogether, both in body and in spirit. The overpowered speaker overpowered her!

About five seconds later, she had an orgasm. Fifteen or twenty seconds after that, before she'd managed to fully recover her breath, she was hit by a second one.

It wasn't until the third, however, that she understood what she was experiencing, and began to register all the ramifications of the event.

She had squeezed her eyes shut as she was coming and coming and coming ... She reopened them, and of course the first thing she beheld was the faces of the twenty shirtless soldiers (also largely pantsless, by that stage, most of them) watching her atop the speaker, every one of those faces rapt with fascination and with hunger.

"Oh dear," she said again, tears streaming down her cheeks, "Oh my."

Even then, what she expected to happen didn't happen. They didn't trespass. There was no great roar and rush. They didn't attack her. They didn't bully her. They didn't assume. Credit where it's due.

She had to signal them, to reach out and beckon them.

It never occurred her not to. Not until afterwards. The thought of stopping—the thought of escape—those notions never entered her head, in the proverbial heat of the moment. Not even a little.

Once she gave them that wave, however ... It was a stampede. It was a tsunami.

It was ... really something.

The cooks back in camp rang a bell because the pig was ready to be served. Nobody showed up to eat. They waited and then rang the bell some more. The general swore inside his tent but didn't come out because he never did, and nothing else changed. Finally, a little worried, a little pissed, the cooks ran to the football pitch. The music was still pounding. It covered up most of the other sounds. All the men had their backs to them, clumped together around the speaker, so the cooks couldn't figure out what was going on until they pushed to the middle. Was somebody hurt? Was it a fight?

When they saw the girl in there, on top the speaker, when they understood, they couldn't actually see her, not much of her. Four guys covered her from every side, their bare asses clenching and pumping. They were keeping her hands as busy as both her mouths. Her feet stuck up in the air between their shoulders, crossed at the ankles, toes curled tight.

The cooks exchanged glances and then started unbuckling their pants.

The pig wasn't going anywhere. Dinner could wait.

5.

At dusk, frustrated and fed up with her inability to find General Zu, with her enthusiasm and dedication for this mission dwindling as a consequence, the Jungle Princess took private comfort in masturbation. In her head, however, she did not think of what she was doing as what it was, and would have been entirely appalled at the idea, if you suggested it to her. Masturbation was dirty and pitiful, in her view, and the noble Jungle Princess would never stoop to indulge in such a profane weakness.

At the end of her wandering, she had stumbled by sheer accident upon a particular ruin (one of several scattered across her realm) which she was familiar with because had come across it on a few prior occasions, or possibly several, as it happened to be fairly close to her treehouse, near to the spot on the riverbank where she most often bathed. This ruin was essentially a single corner of a building with fungus all over those two sad remnants of wall, and a lifesize moss-flecked statue which had toppled off its pedestal and leaned backward into that angle—thus supported by the corner off the ground, but at a very low slant. It would remain propped in that position until the walls behind it further eroded, however long that might be.