Vacation in the Brazilian Jungle

The leader of the band had white paint circled around his eyes. His ears were adorned by large wooden rings. His face seemed tense. Beneath the makeup and body modification, he had deep furrows from worrying about his band. He yelled with the shrill voice of his small body and with his tiny lungs heaving: "hiwalay na kasarian."

None of the passengers understood him. Though, by his pointing, a clear pattern emerged. He was separating the men and the women. The people complied. Only a transgendered hipster from Sao Paolo confused the leader for a while, until he decided the hipster was female, because of the long hair.

Then, the indigenous leader pulled one of the sticks out of the ground. It was one of the sticks that had slashed all the tires of the bus. He drew a long line across the gravel. Then, he had all the male passengers line up. The male passengers were clearly uncomfortable with the whole deal. However, standing at line seemed easy enough.

One of the natives had moved down the road about five hundred yards. He drew a similar line across the gravel highway.

"PUMUNTA! PUMUNTA! PUMUNTA!" yelled all the natives with intensity. Their bodies jumped into the air. The gravel made sounds under their jumping feet. The passengers were confused. The natives' intensity of yelling became scary. A few passengers started stepping forward. Everyone followed them. Some started jogging, as if they had a free pass to make it to safety.

Not satisfied, one of the natives raised the blow dart pipe. With a sharp pop, he shot a dart at a fifty year old gray man of large proportions. The man screamed with instant agony. He started limping in panic forward. Everyone started running like a heard of panicked mustangs.

Donald's adrenaline started pumping once he was in motion. His legs grew shaky. His body feverously wanted to push forward. His mind remembered scenes of adventure movies, where people were given a free pass. He thought about turning back to protect his sister and mother for a moment. Then, he considered that being safe was a better position to protect them than being dad.

He ran. He ran hard. His limbs were flying. His body's dopamine was pumping through his brain, telling him that he did the right thing. He started feeling relaxed about his lungs pushing in and out and his cheeks flubbing each time a foot hit the ground. And, then he separated ahead of the crowd of men. He was the only eighteen year old.

And, at the finish line, the indigenous waited for him. The indigenous carefully side stepped to anticipate Donald running on. The indigenous' hand carefully held a rope loop made from a vine. And, faster than a blink of an eye, the indigenous had thrown the loop, pulled the noose tight, and apprehended Donald with a noose round his neck. Donald was dazed. His running stupor had given way to a situation, where he had to think. He couldn't come up with a good plan. So, he followed the indigenous like a pet.

Donald's father was furious with a red face. His body was the personification of a charging bull. The driver assistant's little body stemmed against him: "That is very foolish. Be diplomatic and we all live." Donald's father kind of gave in remembering the poison darts and his army training that only a fool rushes forward.

The indigenous band collected around Donald. They pushed his muscles with pointy thumbs and fingers. Their handling was very rough from climbing trees and catching jaguars. Donald, the white young man, stood in between them like a tall tree among short reddish brown people. Then, they walked him into the forest. His mother cried out to him. His father was cursing heaven and hell. His sister exclaimed, "What was that about?"

INDIGENOUS HOSTAGE SITUATION

Entering through the green wall off the highway was like entering a room. Inside the jungle was a vast void. All the large green leaves high up in the trees caught all the sunlight. Inside of the forest on the ground, there were barely any leaves or plants at all, only dark brown tree limbs and roots everywhere.

The indigenous band walked single file with him in the middle. Their bodies lacked the rich large muscles of modern day athletes that work out with weights and eat protein shakes. Yet, their compact muscles promised nothing short of being able to strangle a jaguar barehanded. Donald realized that he was outnumber and outmuscled.

His only choice would be to bid his time for an opportune moment. It may take him hours or days to get the chance to run away. From reading Wikipedia, he knew that he had to be careful about the Stockholm Syndrome. Hostages often after a day or two lose the impulse to run away. They will stay with their captors even with the chains unlocked. Donald would not let this happen.

The band walked him at a steady pace. He carefully touched his throat briefly. When nobody reacted, he scratched his neck. Finally, he dared to feel the wine around his neck. It felt young, flexible, and strong. He imagined that it was probably as good as plastic handcuffs. He would not be able to rip it off with his bare hands. That's why they hadn't bothered to tie his hands.

After a few minutes, no idea how long precisely with all the adrenaline, the band stopped. They tied him to a young tree. The tree log wasn't round more like a very flattened round. The captors took off their grass skirts. Completely naked, they tied a thin vine around their bellies and used that to attach their penis to it. That way the penis pointed up and did not flop around.

Their bodies were sweaty and shiny. Their thighs had large squares painted on them. One of them had short almost stubby hair on his head. Another had hair like a mushroom. A third wore feathers on his head. Except for the leader, they had a broad and warm smile. Once they were in the nude again, they seemed a lot more relaxed. One even jokingly punched another on the arm.

Donald fingered the iPhone out of his pant pocket. He turned away partway to hide the prized high tech. He turned on the GPS application. He tried to memorize the GPS coordinate. Then, he turned off the iPhone to conserve the battery.

The captors led the way further into the jungle. Donald's brain repeated the GPS coordinate numbers over and over until he wasn't sure anymore what he was saying. So, he kept looking at the naked brown butt cheeks in front of them and as they winked alternating with each step. The smell in the air was that of very fresh air due to the oxygen. And, at the same time, foreign scents wafted into his nose every now and then.

Overall, there was no distinguishable trail or landmark in the ocean of tree logs under the thick canopy high up on the air. The spotted a few monkeys every now and then. Invisible birds called sometimes with chirps and sometimes with deep booming tones.

A little dirt mound appeared. The leader stopped and got on his knees. After pushing his arms into the dirt mound, his hands reappeared with a sack that used to be white. It had red English print on it. The leader pulled a bag of grain out of it.

One of them made a fire in the wet dirt. Two others went from trunk to trunk to gather water. Water was gathered, where trees branched. Some branches were cut to get water out. The leader carefully looked at Donald.

The leader would pull Donald's cheeks and probe Donald's stomach fat. Then, the leader showed his muscles and said "mo." Eventually, Donald flexed his bicep. The leader smiled wide and clapped his hands against his chest. Encouraged, Donald flexed his other bicep. The leader said enthusiastically "mabuti."

Now, Donald contracted his abdominal muscles and raised his shirt. The leader got excited like a little kid. Donald went on to do pushups and air jumps. The other indigenous gathered around him and encouraged him to do more. Out of exuberance, Donald jumped to grab a branch with his hands like a monkey. His soft skin got scratched by the branch. He let go and fell down.

Humbled, Donald smiled apologetically and said while spacing out each word: "I am not as good at that stuff as you are." The natives seemed to understand. They shoved freshly cooked grains into his hands and encouraged him to eat. He understood it to mean that they had pity with his urban fitness level and thought that food would fix it.

With food in his stomach, Donald blurted out without thinking: "Very nice body paint." And, he pointed at one of the man's white spirals on the chest. The man looked confused. Donald's face suggested for the man to wait. Then, he lifted his shirt sleeve to show his spider tattoo on his shoulder. It was done at a highend tattoo parlor with the precision and brilliance of a Leonardo da Vinci painting. Nothing unlike the crude indigenous painting. The native sing-grunted with approval.

Everyone was sitting on the bare ground, when a little wind kicked up. The wind signaled the temperature change that happens dawn. The leader pointed with his fingers for Donald to lie down. Night came instantly. The dark jungle forest floor was now pitch black.

Under his body, Donald could feel the moist dirt ground. His clothes would be stained with brown, when he would get up. It felt very grounded and rooted to lie in the dirt. Insects crawling on his skin woke him up all night. He could feel the uneven surface of his body denting the soil, especially where his bones poked at the skin.

The heavy oxygen in the air, the exhaustion, the long day, Donald slept deeply, until sunrise and insects crawling on his skin, under his pants, and in his hair woke him up. His bladder was full and he peed. He did not feel bad about being seen peeing. Not only was he a guy, but the natives were already naked.

The natives were squatting spaced out on the forest floor. It was like they were trying to sense something. Where they looking to meet someone? Where they checking for dangerous animals?

Only in the silence of their focused listening and looking did Donald notice the little things around him. He could spot a frog perfectly colored the texture of the tree right next to his hand. A weird bug with a big black body was crawling along the floor at a slow pace. Two monkeys were camouflaged high in a tree and watching the humans below. The place felt blissful despite the situation.

The leader roused the band to move on. Donald was again placed in the middle. They marched through the endless landscape of tree logs, branches, and roots. Donald finally was able to notice the difference in trees. Some were darker. Some were brighter. Some had specific shapes.

Another green walk appeared like at the highway. Beyond it was a dark green murky river with ripples across the surface. The second indigenous in the line slowly turned side to side with his blow dart pipe raised. Then, a sharp and loud plop sounded. Something heavy as a bottle of milk fell through the branches twenty yards away.

They retrieved the lifeless song bird. They threw it into the river. For a couple seconds, the ripples rang out. Then, the water surface seemed to boil with fish jumping. The water sounded aggressive. The indigenous pushed Donald away from the river.

They walked further down the river. The green wall was always on their side. The second in line repeated the bird shooting and water thrown. This time nothing moved in the river. They crossed the river.

The wet clothes hung heavy on Donald. He mumbled "$200" referring to his pants. He tried to squeeze water out of his pants, yet did not dare taking off his clothes. He checked his iPhone. It was ruined. He should have taken it out. The Stockholm Syndrom made a lot of sense. Because if he ran from his captors now, he may just kill himself getting lost in the vast jungle. "They call it invisible handcuffs," he thought to himself.

"Itigil," called out the leader and reached his arms wide. He stood next to a tree that had been cut with a sharp instrument over and over. They looked like hieroglyphs. Some were symbolic. Some were rudimentary drawings of birds and a son. If Donald could have snapped a photo, they would definitely be very interesting to show his friends. Though, he had to stay focused on survival and getting out of this jungle.

The last man in the group was the tallest of them. He looked up to the crown of the tree. Then, he climbed the tree. His hands reached around the trunk. His feet squatted and jumped like a frog. That way he frog jumped himself up the tree. About ten yards into the air a main branch trunked from the log. Apparently, hidden up there was a drum. The man started drumming.

At first, the man seemed to try to find the sweet spot on the drum. Muffled sounds came down. Once he got the bright and loud sound going, he beat in a rhythm bam-bam-bam. Two minutes later, a female voice made frog like sounds in the distance. A second female voice made frog like sounds. The sounds traveled closer.

Two indigenous women appeared. They were completely naked. Their body was half covered in black paint. The black paint covered them in squares and lines. Their hair was pitch black and soft. Even they were naked, there was nothing sexy about them. Their faces were distorted by wooden piercings. They lacked girlish features in their face. Their boobs were long tubes hanging down to their bellies. The length of their boobs was about a foot and a bit.

The women were not even five feet tall. They were heavy set. Their butts were on the chubby side. Donald was astonished to see a naked female body that appeared not naked and attractive at all.

Some kind of exchange was made. Then, the leash on Donald's neck was handed to one of the women. The men disappeared swiftly and silently out of sight.

The two women looked closely at Donald with tentative faces. The smelled his body and his hair. One of them even licked his cheek. Her tongue was surprisingly soft compared to the tough exterior.

They tucked on his neck leash and walked into the jungle. For the first time, there was a trail visible on the ground. There were many footsteps. More trails joined the well worn path. Then, there was a clearing with a little village.

There were four huts made. The walls were many branches rammed into the ground next to each other. The branches were spaced clothes enough to keep anything the size of a large rat out. Yet, one could see inside of the huts. The top of the huts were covered with thick piles of large palm leaves.

The center of the four huts had a large pole and sitting stones arranged in a circle. Donald was tied to the pole. The adrenaline was pumping in his blood vessels, because he could feel that they were about to do to him whatever they had captured him for.

The women started pulling on his clothes. As they did not know Western clothing, Donald helped to unbutton and unzip his clothing. He thought that it was better to go along with the flow and keep the clothing intact for a later escape. He was quickly stark naked and surrounded by eight indigenous brown women.

One of them had a dollop of white paint on her hand and started painting his body with squares on his chest and lines running down his arms. Another tied a vine around his belly and affixed his penis in an upright position like the men had dressed. He felt overwhelmed by the mob. Though, he could not help starring at their long tube like breasts.

When they were done with the paint, they locked him into one of the huts. All the walls were rock solid. There was nothing in the hut but soft moist soil. Donald sat in the soil.

In the hut next to him was a male indigenous. The male indigenous seemed to be captive as well. It seemed so, because the male did not leave the closed hut. And, the male looked onto everything with a passive and distant gaze. The odd thing about the man was that he had two inch long lines cut into his skin. The lines had healed into a thick scar. It looked almost like someone keeping count of something.

CANNIBAL WORRIES IN THE VILLAGE

From the hut, Donald could observe the women. One of the women was clearly elder. She had a few gray hairs. Her boobs were more wrinkled then the other boobs. The others gave her more space.

Then, there were two women that stood more separate from the group. One of them was a really beautiful woman. Her skin was smooth and brown. She was the only one with normal boobs. And, her boobs were beautiful. Also in contrast to all the meat curtains for vaginas, she had potato wedges smooth like a baby.

Next to the beauty was another woman. She seemed the youngest in the group.

And, thus she seemed to have the lowest status. Perhaps, because of her age, her face and boobs were not as disfigured as the older women by piercings and cuttings. Though, she was ugly. Her teeth were too large. Her face was large blocky and made her spirit appear dull. Her boobs seemed to thin for her large frame. Her lower belly already started forming a pot belly. Her eyes were large and slow moving as if she were a bit retarded.

After the women finished their powwow, the retard walked towards Donald's hut. She pointed at Donald and said 'anghel.' The man in the other hut snuffed 'demonyo.' She raised Donald from the floor by pulling on his neck leash. Then, she giggled and walked him out of the village.

Quickly, there was a terrible stomach churning stench in the air. A minute later, the retard stopped at a pit. She squatted at the edge of it and took a dump into it. Then, she picked up a large plant leaf, folded it twice, and wiped her ass. She pointed Donald to do the same.

He thought for a moment. That giggling and slow moving girl was weak. He could throw the girl into the pit and make a run for it. He had at least a five minutes head start to the women in the village. They were in better shape. His legs were longer. Impulsively, he grabbed the girl by both upper arms.

The girl let out a rib-eye-dee-rib scream that curled Donald's blood. He swiftly squatted down at the edge of the pit to take a dump. It was the fastest that he was ever able to release a dump. Then, he took a large leave from her hand. He folded it. The corner of the leave was quite sharp. He placed it in the center of his anus and rotated it.

He looked up at the girl who was looking down at him. She was thinking hard. Then, she placed her finger on his forehead. Donald tensed up afraid that she would throw him over in his weak squatting position to fall into the horrible pit of feces. She smiled at his reaction, as if she had made her point that she knew what he had been thinking. Her finger let go of his forehead.

The retard girl walked ahead of him with the leash resting on her shoulder. He noticed the feminine shape in her naked butt, as he walked behind her. He was glad that his penis was already in an upright position to mask a partial erection. He was basically in a village of naked women. That would be a good story to tell, if he made it out alive.

They did not enter the village. Instead they stopped at an earth stove. An earth mound had a fire pit inside and fresh fish laid on top of it to roast. They sat down together. She handed him one fish after the next and said "isda" with each fish. The fish had a silvery skin and ghastly dead looking eyes. The packed protein tasted good in his hungry stomach. She herself was eating grain porridge.

When he motioned to ask to try her grain porridge, her hands pushed in the air against him to say 'no.' Then, she pointed to his biceps and pulled her arms apart, as if she tried to say that his muscles had to grow.

Donald was intrigued with his new environment. He looked around at the hut, the earth stove, and the women, while the retard cleaned the stove and disposed of the fish bones. He realized that having no close was much more comfortable in the humid hot air. Regularly a breeze would touch his skin and wick away sweet to cool him down.