Amazons Warriors find a new means to terrorize their male counterparts
A - H I - P Q - Z Newest Files
Cloud Warriors The early morning dawned on the quiet waters as the fleet of fishing boats slowly heeled towards the oncoming tide and out into the open sea. The thick morning clouds clung to the water surface with a moist embrace, bringing a chill to the hearty folks that voyaged within. Beneath the gray surface of still waters, the mornings bounty awaited their rendezvous with fate, darting in amongst each other in their own private search for food. The scene that has repeated itself since the beginning of time was once again repeated in a symphony of clanking anchor chains and net cables. The sun would eventually dissipate the clouds into moist tendrils spiraling ever upwards to again reform over the nearby mountains, bringing their life-giving dew to the diverse forms of life that thrived there. By late afternoon, with no sign of the fishing fleets return, the alarmed families dispatched several utility craft out into the now fully awakened sea. Within a few desperate hours, the anchored fleet was found with their nets in disarray and their dead male crew members strewn about with their genitals removed. The few female crew and young boys that had ventured out that morning had disappeared. Onboard there was overwhelming evidence of desperate struggles; most all of the crew members died with some type of weapon nearby, and some were found with small strips of animal skins or human hair in their clenched fists. Peppered about the vessels and across the corpses were small burn signatures, unique in the way they seemed to burn through human flesh, while leaving all other materials discolored yet unharmed. Local authorities became quickly puzzled when their investigations revealed more mysteries than solutions. Federal agencies were soon dispatched, and after a week of carefully guarded research, it was announced that the ill-fated crew members had all fallen victims to a bizarre virus that compelled them to kill one another. The somber ceremony beside the mass grave was marked with both disbelief and resentment. All but a few of the seasoned vessels were auctioned off, and soon the once bustling village became a whispered memory. Even as the fractured families tried to start anew, another fishing fleet on the opposing seaboard was setting out into the gathering mists in anticipation of their evenings’ catch. Their disappearance would strike the term “unique incident” from the research teams transcripts and replace it with “recurring phenomena.” Bob Hill had only worked for NOAA for two years but he knew there was something going on. He had seen the same atmospheric phenomena several times before in the previous month at different locations across the Northern Hemisphere. The tiny eddies always seemed to originate high in the atmosphere over the Amazon River basin, and would travel at remarkable speeds through the upper air currents only to disappear as suddenly as they began over the coastline of North or Central America. They appeared to move with definitive certainty, and they always dissipated at a different coastal location within 24-hours of their onset. Bob took it upon himself to unravel their mystery, with the approval of his supervisor who didn’t care to spend his time breaking in a new scientist. But it wasn’t until late one night, as Bob was dozing in his favorite chair with the wife and young ones already asleep, that he heard the brief announcement about a fleets’ disappearance that would launch him into the center of the investigation. When Bob revealed the atmospheric phenomenon he had found coincided directly to the disappearance of the fishermen, he was instantly promoted and, with barely time to answer all the questions he was fielded, was on a flight to Rio. Several thousand miles north, Randy gingerly guided his Father’s fishing boat along the cloud barrier floating just above the waters calm surface. A plugged fuel filter had delayed their departure, and left their normal preparations in disarray. As Randy steered the sturdy craft into the dense fog, his Father prepared the nets, humming to himself as his confidence in his young sons’ seamanship continued to improve. Suddenly, a deafening crash came from the wheelhouse, and a large form swept over the craft, bathing it in brilliant light and warmth. Randy spun the wheel frantically away from the point of impact as the ship rolled violently onto its side, only to mercifully right itself several desperate seconds later. Securing the helm and disengaging the churning screws, he darted aft to find his Dad slumped over one of the winches with blood dripping down his pants legs and a look of sheer terror in his now unseeing eyes. Randy stared at the lifeless form for several minutes before returning to the wheelhouse and fingering the transmit key on the radio. Not fully knowledgeable in its operation, it took him several minutes to contact the Coast Guard after his attempts to contact the remainder of the fleet had failed. The helicopter that was dispatched abruptly disappeared just after it had radioed the location of the stricken vessel and the ominous cloud formations that lie just ahead. The cutter arrived several hours later as the fog was lifting to observe the eerie spectacle of an anchored fleet void of life and strewn with mangled male bodies. Randy was the only survivor recovered, and it was several weeks before the shock abated enough for him to give a sketchy rendition of the events that led up to his Fathers’ demise. Bruce threw the folder filled with assorted papers back into his in box precariously perched on the edge of his cluttered desk, sending it toppling to the floor with a noteworthy crash. An ex-Marine, called to serve the FBI based loosely on an outstanding war record and the ability to retain his perspective when everything about him was crumbling, Bruce longed for the days in the trenches rather than at this lackluster desk where he spent his professional life sifting clues. Unmarried, and happy, Bruce spent all of his free time on his 32-foot Chris Craft that doubled as his home and his recreation center. He was still a decade from full retirement, although he often considered weighing anchor and disappearing south of the border. If it wasn’t for his security classification, he would have exercised that option years ago. A few moments later, Linda bolted into the room, tripping over the mess and tumbling to the musty carpet, barely saving her dignity as her regulation skirt ripped up the seam. Barely able to conceal an untimely burst of laughter, Bruce reached over to grab a cigarette, lighting it slowly between the disarming smile he almost always wore. She was a new “recruit,” eager and ample as they always were, but sadly lacking in experience and patience - both critical elements for “field work.” In a surprise move she was assigned to Bruce in a marriage that would hopefully teach her the intricacies of his experience while giving her mentor some of her unbridled enthusiasm. To date, he remained unshaken, much to her frustration. They were a study in extremes, with Bruce large and burley, and Linda frail and delicate. His muscles rippled firmly beneath the suit that barely concealed his taught body lines, intimidating his male associates while charming his counterparts. Although his demeanor was authoritative, he rarely responded to emotions and was never known to have lost his temper. Linda, on the other hand, was an impulsive young charmer, with dark flashing eyes and a voice that could melt butter. Although well- conditioned, her size reflected femininity, and she was often pursued by her male counterparts in the Bureau. “While your down there, could you see if you could find my pen; it’s a black Skilcraft,” he quipped awaiting the emotional response he knew it would trigger. “Find it yourself,” she hissed as she rose to her knees; “It’s a wonder you can find anything in here with this. . .!” “Watch it now, show a little respect for my filing system, would ya?” “I came in to see if you’re all right,” she offered, hoping it would trigger a sympathetic response to her awkward position. “Better than you are right now I reckon,” he responded softly as he glanced over the carnage in search of another file. “Has the Coast Guard followed-up on their initial report yet?” “I’ll check on it,” she uttered as she struggled to her feet while trying to preserve the few threads of modesty that remained. “Please, and check with NOAA concerning the atmospheric phenomenon after you get yourself put back together, would you - apparently there is some guy that believes he’s found some link in the atmosphere over the Amazon.” He rose and escorted her to the door, partly in sympathy, and partly to insure there wouldn’t be another ungraceful diving performance. Turning to scoop up the disarrayed paperwork, he wondered how he would ever be able to return them to their original folders. Just then, the annoying inter-office buzzer sounded on his desk phone. It was the chief with a note of urgency in his voice that explained the priority and precedence of the investigation. Within a few hours, Bruce and Linda were aboard a chartered jet on their first field assignment together. There first stop was the hospital where Randy was recovering. After an informative interview and their heartfelt reassurance, the lad volunteered to accompany them to Miami where a meteorologist was to join them for a fact-finding mission into the Amazon. Several other agents joined them in Miami as they boarded the flight to Rio, and soon the whole party was seated together in the first- class section comparing notes and strategies for finding guides and transportation to this river valley shrouded in mystery and superstitions. As they boarded the helicopter that would take them to a small village a few miles from where the computer simulations had pin-pointed the origins of the phenomenon, they received word from the Bureau in Washington that another fleet had been found emasculated of Nova Scotia. The attacks were becoming more frequent now, and the press was threatening to publish the story. When the chopper arrived at the clearing shortly after midnight, the guides campfire could be clearly seen by the flight crew, but once the investigating team was on the ground and the helicopter disappeared beyond the treetops, they realized they were alone. When the guides body was found in the early hours of the dawn, he had been emasculated and tossed into an overgrown ravine a few feet from the now sputtering campfire. Bruce tried to contact the helicopter to retrieve Linda - this was certainly no place for her; but she insisted on remaining with the party, assuring them that she was the safest of them all with genitals that were far more difficult to remove. With only a compass and general idea of where they were headed, the team forged into the dense undergrowth as a tightly knit unit with Bruce at point and the two security men taking the rear. They would be the first to disappear, and within moments the remaining survivors heard to two distinct gut-wrenching screams. Moments later, as they party huddled under some large ferns, the hushed whisper of motors could be heard overhead, signaling the approach of a large aircraft. Bob leapt to his feet and started waving his arms wildly until Bruce tackled him and pulled him back under cover just as a large crystal-clear dirigible passed overhead. Linda could clearly make out at least fifty women clad in animal skins that barely hid their femininity lined up on either side of the sleek structure that was suspended underneath. Randy began shivering violently and curled up in a fetal position next to Linda while Bruce and Bob stood up to observe the barely visible tail section as it disappeared over the trees. Without words, they all stared at one another, and for the first time in years, Bruce found himself at a loss. Off in the distance, a dull ascending roar shook the tree tops, sending the birds fleeing in a collage of noisy protests. Bruce idly fumbled with the transmit key for a few seconds before raising the radio to call for the helicopters return. This was no longer a task for an investigating team, but rather, for full scale military intervention. But before he could utter a word, he dropped the radio to his side upon realizing they were all surrounded by beautiful, almost naked women who were pointing small but evil looking weapons at them menacingly. Without words, they motioned the four to their feet where they were stripped, gagged, blindfolded, and their wrists were tied securely behind their backs. Feeling the painful sting of one of the hand held weapons on his buttocks for the first time, Bruce lurched forward, followed by his three terrified companions and escorted by an army of female captors. After stumbling through the jungle for what seemed like hours, they were forced down to their knees with their backs up against a large tree stump. Their ankles were then tied with damp vines that synched even more securely as they dried. Mercifully, then, their blindfolds were removed, and they found themselves staring into the unsympathetic eyes of scores of muscular women illuminated by several nearby campfires. The three men immediately felt the eyes of the tribes on their flaccid genitals, and tried to conceal them as best they could. Linda, became flushed with anger, wondering what these women wanted with her, and how she could effect an escape to get help. After a few moments, one particularly large and beautiful woman stepped forward, her large breasts barely concealed by the thin strip of animals skin. Her abundant pubic hairs sprouted freely from around the small patch of cloth that barely covered the obscenely bulging lips of her vulva. Sweat-streaked the body that was the epitome of muscular conditioning, and her hard features reflected an uncompromising approach to those who defied her desires. She studied the four slowly and deliberately, sizing up every inch of their bodies with blatant distaste; intimidating them intentionally. Randy began to sob, and Bob mumbled something about peaceful intentions and both were immediately silenced with small bursts from the hand held weapons to their shriveled scrotums. They cringed in agony, struggling desperately to break their bonds and shelter their burning gonads. True to form, Linda launched a flaming outburst of vehement obscenities, and was silenced with a more intensive burst from one of the weapons. She slumped over where she would remain oblivious to her precarious position for some time. The burly queen snapped her stubby fingers and pointed to Randy. Several of the other women darted to his restrained form and freed him quickly, assuring that the blindfold was firmly in place before dragging his trembling body off into the darkness. Another older woman, fully adorned with a montage of feathers pointed to Bob, and he was soon gone also. Bruce and Linda now sat back-to-back, and as Bruce once again tried to review the options he didn’t have, he figured he would probably meet his maker without collecting so much as one penny of his pension. The Bureau owed him big time if he ever got back to the comfort of his desk again! As he continued to brood silently, a frail white girl stepped out from the remaining group and pointed to him. With a swear word muffled under his breath, he was blindfolded and escorted to a small hut deep in the darkened forest. His concerns for his partner would shortly be replaced by far more pressing matters. A little later in the evening, some of the captors poked and probed Linda lifeless form with their fingers, and once satisfied, they disappeared to their perspective huts. Randy began to whimper openly as he was pulled to the largest hut in the complex by his sagging shoulders. The head of the tribe showed little sympathy, kicking him brutally in the ribs until he lay silently on the floor of thatched palm leaves. She rolled his body over slowly with her foot, studying the youthful innocence of his pale skin. Drawing one of the lit oil lamps close to his manhood, she knelt next to him and gingerly fingered the flaccid organ, studying the glans and shaft with genuine interest. Next she moved to his hairless scrotum and slowly manipulated the two small gonads within, forcing them to slide between her fingertips slowly while she savored their smooth texture. Then, without ceremony, she withdrew her hunting knife that was nicked and rusty from neglect. Ever so slowly and skillfully she used her left had to pull the young mans organs away from his abdomen, then jabbed the knife point directly into the juncture where the urethra disappeared into the young mans body. Randys’ eyes shot open, and his entire body tensed, as his torso arched into the air and his hands clawed at his genitals. She threw down the knife and slapped him forcefully, then resumed her surgery; slowly moving the large blade in short sawing motions around the base of his manhood as the delicate skin pulled free from the sparse hair on his pubic mound. It took over a minute for her to complete the emasculation, and as the last tendrils of skin pulled free, she smiled in satisfaction. Gingerly cradling the mutilated organs in the palm of her hand, she stood and studied her latest conquest unemotionally. The blood dripping between her fingers awoke her from her trance, and she dropped the lifeless flesh into the empty half of a coconut shell before returning to Randys now quivering form and kneeled down over his open mouth with her now dripping pussy. She drug her massive pussy lips across his teeth roughly, rapidly climaxing fitfully as Randy breathed his last. It had been good for her, and as she summoned two of her sisters to removed the corpse, she studied her knife blade carefully, silently promising to give it the maintenance it so desperately required on the morrow. The local medicine woman tied Bobs body to the frame of her eerie abode with his arms at his side and his legs spread to their fullest extent. Around the shadowy interior of the hut were numerous feathers covering the walls, broken only by one small opening and rows of shelves filled with an assortment of dusty bottles, vials, and flasks containing every type of extract and potion imaginable. In the middle of the room was a small fire with several discolored flasks gingerly stuffed in the coals. Several oil lamps dangled from the ceiling, swaying to and fro in the evening breezes. She hummed to herself as she stepped over to a dark rustic table next to her cot, and began fumbling with some of the implements laying there. “You know, I’m a scientist too?” offered Bob, hopeful that they may share common interests including the preservation of life. “Shhhh” she responded as she turned to him with her eyes ablaze. Bob bit his tongue as she approached him with a glowing wooden handled knife in one hand and a scrap of dripping material in the other. With shaking hands, she grabbed his scrotum with the alcohol soaked rag, and brought the knife deftly just under his penis, severing the sack and suspended contents so quickly, he was barely aware of their loss. But as the searing pain ripped through his torso, he tilted his back and screamed the long high pitched wail of the damned. She slowly slid the knife blade along the bloody incision, using the soaked rag to dab the blood away from the open wound. Bob blacked out. A short time later he awoke on her cot, with a throbbing sensation where his scrotum used to be. She was spooning a distasteful concoction of animal and plant extracts and into his mouth, while muttering something undistinguishable under her breath. As his awareness returned, he struggled to bring himself up onto his elbows and examine the carnage between his thighs. She patted his chest reassuringly, and eased him back onto the straw filled pillow. Somehow he was calmed by her touch, and soon dozed off into a blissful sleep. He awoke some time later, and studied his captor from behind as she worked fervently over the stained tabletop. She turned abruptly when she heard him shuffle his feet and approached him cautiously, knowing that he was untied and had ample opportunity to strike out against her. But Bob never had that type of demeanor, always trying to dispell conflicts with words rather than aggresion. It was one of the primary reasons his wife had been drawn to him in college along with his seemingly fathomless compassion for young children and the elderly. Sometimes she wondered if he wouldn’t have been happier working in the medical field rather than weather guessing; but his income was more than adequate for the young family, and she hadn’t been required to work thanks to his tireless efforts to support them. In perspective, Bob was fortunate also, as his wife truly appreciated him for what he was, and allowed him the freedom to pursue his career without her interference. It was a happy marriage for them both, although recent developments would most certainly curtail any opportunity for future offspring permenantly. “Why?” It was Bob who spoke first. “It is the law of our tribe,” she whispered in perfect English. “I regret the pain you endured and hope it will not affect our scientific relationship.” “It could, but I’ll try to let it pass as soon as the pain vanishes,” he responded warmly to her, relieved that he was in the company of a fellow scientist who would undoubtedly attempt to preserve his life. “Are you behind the atmospheric phenomenon that orginates from this area?” She froze. “You know - how many others know.” “With our disappearance, I suspect the whole world,” he replied. “We came to explore the source and provide some answers to our nations’ administration.” “How long before they arrive?” she asked, obviously gravely concerned. “Shortly, I suspect, and they’ll probably come with a substantial military presence.” “Damn.” Her face suddenly reflected her youth and beauty. “How did you ever develop this technology to alter the weather, and build a literally invisible aircraft,” he pressed. “It’s remarkable.” “We didn’t; we discovered several vials in the Nazca Plains during a recent expedition that contained all the information we needed to construct the necessary devices.” Her eyes lit up with excitement as she began to describe the small rockets propelled by animal waste that deposited the simple chemical compound required to trigger the phenomenon. She then went on to describe the basic construction of the “Crystal Ship,” and its components, including the deadly hand held weapons that never required rearming. Her face glowed with excitement as she finished her brief descriptions, and her infectious enthusiasm made Bob forget all about his testicular trauma, but rather to focus on the significance of their discovery. They briefly fell silent, basking in the afterglow of the moment before Bob finally spoke. “But why is it employed to kill fisherman. This type of technology could virtually eliminate drought and famine” “It was our Queens decision - you know, the one who took the youngest member of your party. Sadly she destroyed the source documents and only entrusted two of us with the information I have shared in part with you. It was her idea to panic a small group of your males who rape the resources of our planet so irresponsibly. We hoped to send a message to your cultures but I fear we have evoked its wrath instead.” “Indeed,” Bob responded, “when were the mutilations to end, anyway? “As soon as the Queen was satisfied,” she replied. “Where . . .where did you learn to communicate with women so well?” “I’m no different than anyone other guy,” he mumbled shyly, “Where did you learn to speak such fluent English?” “I used to be a Doctor at John Hopkins. One vacation some time back, I set out to explore the Amazon with several of my friends and after meeting my sisters here, I fell in love with the life and never returned. It was the class case of a vacationer becoming a victim. Would you make love to me?” Bob began choking; the very thought of having sex was the furthest thing from his mind right now. With a flood of performance anxieties stemming from the recent loss of his gonads, he could only shake his head no. She appeared visibly saddened and he reached out to her in consolation, giving her the warmest embrace he could muster amidst the thoughts racing through his head and the throbbing pains in his pelvis. She snuggled into his embrace like a child, gently pulling at the sparse hairs on his chest. It was obvious that she had missed the comfort of a male counterpart during her stay in the jungle, and Bob couldn’t help but sympathize with her. They held their embrace for an intimate eternity, allowing the rhythym of their breathing to put their hearts to rest. After a time, they slept. As the first strands of dawn began to filter across the sky bringing color to the darkness, she slowly reached down and began to fondle Bobs flaccid manhood with the tenderness of a soul mate. Somehow, his body began to respond to her gentle carress, and he soon found his lips seeking the smooth contours of her neck and small breasts. His mouth continued to explore her now sweating torso with gentle kisses and tongue twists and worked its way down towards her heaving tummy amidst her breathy sighs. She responded quickly, removing her animal skins without once opening her eyes, and then guiding his head down into her pelvis and the secrets therin. Bob let his tongue become the active player in his love making, tasting every freckle and wrinkle of her smooth coffee colored skin. By the time he found her erect clitoris with his tongue, she was aroused far beyond her fondest recollections. With a mere swipe of his tongue, she tensed with the first of a series of orgasms that continued to grow in intensity as he buried his face deeper into her treasures. Her sighs became moans as she forced her pubis ever deeper into his mouth with her hands, scraping her clitoris against his teeth with her passion. Soon she became completely engulfed in the warmth of erotic sensations spiraling from her genitals, allowing her orgasms to engulf her being in wild abandon. Her body swayed from side to side, her head was tilted towards the ceiling with her mouth wide open and her eyes squeezed tightly shut, while her firm breasts bounced taughtly as the growing crescendo of spasms swept over her in waves of long awaited fulfillment. She was the eptiome of of ecstacy and became so lost in the intense sensations theat she totally forgot about her lover until he began gasping for breath. She rolled of of him onto the dusty floor amidst a flurry of breathy apologies as her quivering body began the slow descent back from euphoria. Bob wiped her abundant nectar from his face with the back of his hand, grateful to see the light of day and to feel the lifegiving air surging back into his starved lungs. He curled into a loose fetal position, protecting his manhood that was now fully erect, despite the waves of pain that were radiating across his thighs and abdomen. His satiated captor slowly stirred and lifted herself on to the edge of the cot, gently caressing his back with her fingertips and kissing his face with gratitude. As he began respond to her carresses, she spied his rigid manhood and immediately moved her face down to the purple head, slowly savoring the secreations that trickled from the throbbing organ. Her mouth gradually engulfed him without pulling on the raw skin where his ball sack had until recently resided. She continued to gently bathe the tender organ in the warm cavern of her mouth, using her tongue to stimuluate the sensitive underside of his manhood until, without warning, his semen exploded into her throat and his hips arched high into the air. She drained the last of his seed passionately, watching his face intently as his orgasm waned. They embraced tenderly; and dozed in each others arms, while, just outside, the Queen continued to rub her clitoris frantically while fantasizing about the orgasms that Bob had given her aloof scientist. Later, as she silently returned to her home, she mused over her options, and knew she would miss the scientist that had given her the tools to complete her world conquest along with so many fulfilling orgasms in her bed. As Bruce was muscled into the darkened thatched hut, he struggled violently to free himself of his captives, and was almost successful until a blow to the back of his head left him momentarily stunned. He was roughly tied to a chair, and left to the auspices of his frail captor. As she turned up the light from a large oil lamp suspended from the cross member of the ceiling, Bruce glanced upon her fragile nakedness momentarily before fully exploring the environment in his field of view. The inside of the structure was draped with white fabric, including the floor which had several blood-stained areas on the otherwise unremarkable surface. Outside of the chair on which he sat and a small pile of skins next to the door, their were no furnishings and no windows. His captor watched him intently, as he completed his survey with just the hint of a smile on her beautiful face. “This is our conception area,” she stated as she folded her arms under the small mounds of her budding breasts, and you will provide me with your life giving seed before I loose interest and castrate you.” She let out a small chirp and two of her sisters appeared immediately at the doorway, armed with evil looking knives. “Let’s take a moment for me to consider my options,” he replied calmly, stalling for time to develop an escape plan. “You simply have no options,” she returned, “Your fate is entirely dependant upon your cooperation, and my desires. Please don’t bore me with your chauvinistic crap; I really don’t want to remove that disgusting organ before it has had one final opportunity to perform for me.” “You have no idea how erotic this discussion is,” he mused, focusing his attention on her small upturned nose, “I might just cum right now amidst your sensuous seduction.” She ran to the door and grabbed one of the larger knives, then ran back over to him and and held the knife to his manhood with one hand while roughly fondling the flaccid organ with her other. “Aha, your left-handed,” he observed, and she froze with the blade a mere inch from his still flaccid manhood and her face directly in front of his. He could feel her quick warm breaths on the stubble on his chin. “And. . .,” she sputtered. “Left handed people are rumored to be superior lovers,” he responded quickly, hoping the mock sincerity in his voice would mask the sudden panic he felt. “I wouldn’t know, and why should I care?” “Because you’re probably not very good at much else,” he gambled, hoping to evoke a defensive response.” “How dare you!” “Well, how dare you!” “Look, I’m the one with the knife here. . .” “Yep, and I’ve got the sperm.” She paused then turned abruptly and dismissed her two sisters with a wave of her hand. Turning slowly to face him she straddled his legs and sat on his hips facing him as her face softened. She studied his face wordlessly, tracing her fingers over his features gently before letting her hands drop to support her weight on his bound legs. Her gaze dropped to his muscular chest and abs, savoring the contours of his masculinity before proceeding down to his still soft manhood. Her left hand found its way to the shriveled glans, gently circling it with her index finger as a drop of spittle fell from her cherry lips onto his thigh. As Bruce felt the silkiness of her touch, he became aroused for the first time in years, and closed his eyes as the delicious sensations began to build slowly. She then grasped the organ with both of her hands and began to stroke it more evenly, bringing it to its full glory in a relatively short time. Her eyes became wide and her breathing shallow and rapid as she felt the throbbing organ spasm involuntarily in her hands. “My turn,” Bruce whispered. “What” she asked in a hushed voice. “My turn - free my hands so that I can treat you in a manner befitting your beauty.” So overwhelmed was she by the moment that she reached behind him and deftly untied his hands. She had to rise up to reach over him, positioning her vulva directly in front of his lips. The scent of her femininity drifted up his nose and he sucked the virgin flesh into his mouth, savoring her essence in an erotic tongue-fest. She became overwhelmed almost immediately pulling his head into her pelvis forcefully as she tried to remain standing despite her quivering legs. Bruce took advantage of her compromised position and, after securing her tight fanny in his massive hands, slowly rolled off of the chair, taking her down to the floor gracefully, without breaking his tongue hold on her femininity. She gasped in momentary surprise, then spread her legs further to allow him better access. It was the moment he waited for, and, grabbing the knife, he rolled off her and bolted through the door, slashing one of the two guards immediately, then sparring once with the other before landing a crashing blow to her head. As he turned towards the slumped form of his partner, two simultaneous bursts of energy slammed into his back; sending him sprawling and senseless to the jungle floor. When Bruce awoke several hours later with his limbs bound and a roaring headache, he found himself in a small, tightly thatched cage accompanied by his bound companions and at least twenty female captives. Bob looked pathetic with blood still oozing from his groin while Linda appeared as if she was still unconscious. Bruce still had his genitals attached, but he mused that was a temporary oversight, and knew that his escape attempt may have seriously jeopardized his teams survival. It took but a few moments for him to realize that the tattered prisoners in the small cage with him were undoubtedly the survivors of the fishing fleet. Perhaps they were kept alive because of a tribal restriction to harm other women, or perhaps they would undergo some form of conditioning to join those on the other side of the cage; Bruce could scarcely imagine. He turned to Bob who was trying to cushion his recent surgery and get comfortable in the cramped space. “How bad is it Bob,” Bruce asked with concern. “Could be better. . .” “Shut up in there,” came a harsh bark from outside the cage, a small burst from one of the hand held weapons sizzled past Bruces’ ear and burned a small pinhole in Bobs left thigh. This was the second time Bruce was directly responsible for bodily injury to his companions, and he immediately decided to abstain from any type of provocative behaviors until reinforcements arrived. Bob rolled on to his side in agony, silently cursing while putting as much distance between himself and Bruce as he could. It just didn’t seem fair that Bruce should be unscathed while the other males were either permanently disfigured or dead. The two men agonized in silence, huddled around the supine form of Linda and surrounded by the other subdued female captives. As the minutes dripped into hours in the sweltering heat, they felt their hopes of escape dwindling into vapor. With no food or water, they became lethargic and complacent, and soon drifted off into troubled slumbers. The flies began a silent feast on their tender skin. It wasn’t until early the next morning when, amidst a flurry of activity outside of the darkened cage, the door was flung open and the three newest captives were pulled into the clearing at the center of the camp. Sometime during the humid night hours, Linda had awakened, but was too disoriented to struggle and simply returned to her dazed slumber amidst the rumblings of her empty stomach. The Queen stood over them with contempt, gloating at these three souls who had been so much trouble. She wanted to repay their efforts with her own special brand of fatal torture, but had been convinced to extract as much information as possible from them first by her council. With a brutal kick to Linda’s ribs, she silently signaled two of her subordinates to drag this now awakened and protesting captive to her chambers. She followed them, turning to stare vehemently at the other captives twice before disappearing into the darkness. The scientist quickly hustled Bob back to her quarters, whispering heart felt apologies in his ear as he was led away. Two other warriors grabbed Bruce roughly, and kicked him in his stomach several times before dragging him back to the conception room. “Tell me about the invasion force,” the Queen commanded, as she rose her foot as if to stomp Lindas her pelvis brutally. “There will be many men,” Linda chided sarcastically, “And they will come with machines that are impervious to your weapons and your cries as they turn your village and all your accomplishments into snake sod.” “You impertinent bitch;” the Queen stomped down fitfully, forcing the air from Lindas’ lungs, “The truth or you die.” “You want the truth - your ugly, and no man would ever want you,” she gasped fighting to get air. “That’s why your here minding the mindless rather than helping the hopeful, sister.” The words were biting, and struck home. “Maybe we live in a mans world, but we don’t have to stoop to degradation and emasculation to unify our genders and we have a future - do you?” With that, Linda collapsed breathlessly, the room spinning around her as she fought for air. The queen turned to the table, where the brown and shriveled gonads of Randy lay in the shell. She moved them idly with her fingertips, thinking about the look of terror on his face as they were severed, and reminiscing about the explosive orgasm she had experienced after listening to the passionate sounds of Bobs lovemaking to her trusted scientist. It was a study in extremes. The Queen had never known and deeply longed for love, but knew that surrendering to its powerful embrace would usurp her authority. She quietly scooped the two shriveled gonads into her mouth, and bit down forcefully, savoring the explosive burst of creamy male essence that coated her palate and slid down her throat. She could never surrender the pleasure of this moment, and hardened herself, silently cursing for the momentary weakness that she had just displayed. Turning curtly, she leveled another brutal kick in Lindas’ ribs in anger, silencing her for the better part of an hour. Bob gently touched the cheek of his captor with his fingertips, as she dabbed a soothing balm into the small burn on his thigh. He knew that she had been instrumental in his release, and was grateful for her devotion. He pondered telling her of his loving wife, wondering if the information would evoke a jealous response or endanger their fragile relationship. He decided it best to leave well enough alone, and intensified his caresses as she noiselessly responded to his touch. Again without a word, she stood up and removed the tiny vestiges of modesty and climbed on to the cot next to him, caressing his erogenous zones in reawakened desire. Bob returned her caresses, focusing on her slightly sagging breasts and dampening vulva that she had apparently just trimmed in hopes of such an encounter. He couldn’t believe the responsiveness of this lovely creature, and was grateful just to have the opportunity to please a woman once more before his apparent demise at the hand of the sadistic Queen. Bob buried his face into her with tenderness and compassion, covering her quivering flesh with loving kisses. Her arousal was immediate, tempered by thoughts of their earlier encounter, and she couldn’t disguise her desire as she forced her hips up to his lips forcefully. Her climax was immediate and spontaneous, flooding his mouth with her nectar as her breasts strained towards the ceiling. Almost savagely, she reversed their position and grasp his manhood brutally, forcing the still limp and mangled organ into her vagina while grinding her pelvis against his in wild abandon. Her whimpers were soon replaced with guttural groans as wave after wave swept through her, leaving her speechless and spent. She soon collapsed in exhaustion atop her captive, completely oblivious of the agony he was experiencing. Bob swore that if he ever got out of there alive, he would pursue another, far more mundane profession. Bruce was force in a kneeling position in front of the pristine creature he had left frustrated on the same floor hours earlier. There was no sympathy in her eyes now, and she had an evil-looking whip fashioned from reeds in her delicate hand. From where he knelt with his back towards the only guarded escape route, he knew his existence depended solely upon her satisfaction, and without a word being spoken, he moved forward and buried his face into the now pungent pussy. Her response was immediate; she threw back her head with her eyes closed and dropped the whip before grabbing his hair with both her hands. Although it had been years since his last oral encounter, the technique was never forgotten, and soon he was giving her the tongue bath of a lifetime. Her gasps provided the encouragement he needed to bring her to the first of several orgasms that made her knees shake and her resolve waver. Finally, with a muffled sigh, she pulled his head from between her trembling legs, and spasmed involuntarily for several minutes from the absence of the warm and powerful suction. Bruce gratefully caught his breath as he watched his captor collapse on the floor and succumb to yet another orgasmic release. She had a beautiful countenance about her, almost a childlike innocence that begged for acceptance and fulfillment. Her smooth skin, silky hair, and delicate femininity aroused him unconsciously, and before she could fully recover to stasis, he crawled over to where she lay on his knees and elbows, and buried his head, once again, into her saturated womanhood. She inhaled sharply in surprise, then opened her legs completely, surrendering herself to the man she was sworn to kill. After a brief respite, her youthful body once again ascended toward its orgasmic plateau, quaking uncontrollably in response and anticipation. The subsequent orgasm was so explosive that she lapsed into unconsciousness for several moments. With her muscles tired and aching, she pushed Bruce away with her legs, and panted silently before rising slowly and freeing his extremities. With a stern look that Bruce understood immediately, he eased his giant frame atop her while she guided his manhood deep into her virgin treasure. Tenderly, he eased himself into her silky womanhood, savoring the gentle muscle contractions deep within the slowed his progress perceptibly. Upon reaching the partially opened maidenhead, he jabbed quickly, tearing the remnants asunder amidst a tiny spurt of blood and her brief startled cry. He then pressed on into previously uncharted territory, as his conquest allowed the erotic sensations to overwhelm her completely. So lost in her own sensations was the captor, that she was scarcely aware of the explosive invasion of the seed that had been bridled deep within Bruce for so many years. The white cream accumulated in her womb so rapidly that it began to squirt out around his manhood at the conclusion of each orgasmic thrust. He rolled away of her frailty just as the first explosion rocked the camp. Matt was career infantry, never married, went to the chapel every Sunday, and scorned anything other than the American ideal. When he received the phone call dispatching his elite force for a covert rescue mission into the Amazon jungle, he could scarcely suppress his excitement. This was the culmination of his training, and the very reason for his existence. Assembling the men quickly, he gave a brief speech about dedication, the potential hazards, and the ultimate objectives, while intentionally omitting the retreat and surrender options. A back-up plan was developed by the administration but Matt had assured them of his teams success, and boarded the helicopter in full gear before the dawn broke over the horizon. By early afternoon, the chopper reached its refueling site less than 20-minutes air time from their objective, and, with the help of the local officials, fed and rested his team until dusk crept over the humid jungle. The fully loaded chopper eased off the pad and into the twilight, the aircrew donning infa-red eyewear for the hazardous navigation to the drop zone they would never reach. Even as the helicopter turned towards its final approach, the crystal ship suddenly appeared in front of them, and visible only by the heat signatures of its engines and female occupants, was virtually unavoidable. The resulting collision sent the would be rescuers and the cloud warriors into an explosive holocaust from which there were no survivors from either craft. The first explosion was the precursor to several far more violent cataclysms that would set the forest ablaze and envelop the warriors camp in a flaming inferno. The chopper managed to remain airborne for several agonizing seconds, spiraling down to impact on to the site of where the cloud rockets had been launched. As the flames moved east with the prevailing winds, the warriors, the camp and the marvels that were hidden within were destroyed forever; leaving all but a memory to the fortunate few who survived. With the first report, Bruce and Linda, now fully awakened, reacted in unison with calm precision; quickly assessing their options, they grasped the hands of their captors and bolted for the center of camp where Bob was struggling to his feet after being knocked to the ground by the force of the second explosion. Many of the female captives stumbled into the clearing also, frightened and disoriented. Bruce suggested that the clearing where they first landed would be the best rendezvous because of the sparse vegetation and the proximity to water, and Bob and Linda quickly agreed signaling to the others to follow. As they firmly gripped their counterparts and bolted into the now burning jungle, the Queen wrenched her hand free and took a few steps away from the group. She turned to them with a tear-stained face and shook her head. “I must remain with my people,” she asserted, “Please care for my daughter,” and she pointed to the frail figure next to Bruce before she bolted back to the burning camp. “So too must I,” confessed the compassionate scientist as she slipped away from Bob and disappeared into the smoke despite Bobs vehement protest. “Gotta go now,” it was Bruce pointing to the canopy of flames above their heads that threatened to engulf them momentarily. They ran into the undergrowth with their eyes and throats burning from the acrid smoke. It would take an eternity to reach the clearing, and a few moments longer for the survivors to plunge down the embankment and into the frothy river below for relief from the searing heat. Once there, they immersed themselves completely into the steamy water, moving only to dodge falling limbs or animal carcasses. Sometime later, they finally emerged from the bog to the sounds of helicopter rotors overhead; exhausted, caked with mud, but gratefully alive. As the second assault team stumbled into the blackened remnants of the once towering jungle on the directions given by the barely recognizable survivors, they encountered a few smoldering remains of what had once been but nothing more. The debrief was a hellish nightmare that went on for days. Although Rayna, the once proud daughter of a Warrior Queen was timid at first, she soon disclosed all that she new about this Amazon subculture, and the scientific marvels they had uncovered. The scientific community and press corps soon swarmed upon her tirelessly, extracting any and every little detail she could remember until finally, in desperation, she requested that Bruce join her prior to any future questions. The brief and intense relationship that immediately followed culminated in a loving marriage that Linda swore was due to Raynas conception in the camp. Linda would go on to become Deputy Secretary of the Bureau, and would never marry although she is still actively pursued to this day. Bob returned home to the loving and accepting arms of his wife with whom he still shares his life today thanks to testosterone patches and a change of career. As a fully licensed gynecologist, his frequently explores the depths of femininity although he has never encountered any as sweet as the warrior scientist who now permanently resides in the clouds with her sisters.