My dick couldn't help but harden, thinking of fucking them, of claiming them as my own. I didn't know whether, for these savages, sex was merely a means of reproduction or if they, too, found pleasure and enjoyment in the act.
Suddenly, I saw a group of tribal men coming over in this direction, trying to come into the forest through this slope, which had a slight incline like a dirt road to walk up and down.
They were carrying spears and jute ropes, their bodies bare-chested with only a small piece of what looked like some plant leaf, like banana leaves, covering their crotches.
But one of the males stood out, looking like a leader as he was wearing a dead animal skin around his crotch. They all had beards and mustaches, looking ferocious and ready for battle.
They were coming over here, and I knew I needed to be careful. I couldn't just barge in and expect to be accepted. I needed a plan, a way to make them see me as more than just a stranger, an outsider.
But I couldn't ignore my safety. If any of those motherfuckers tried to harm me, I would kill them with my **Magical Tool**. Maybe I should just make it into a rifle like an M4 Carbine, shoot them all to death. Or maybe a bazooka would be good, and anyway, even if I got injured, I would be fine with the **Healing Factor**. The thought was comforting, and it gave me confidence, as no matter what happens, I will not die.
I looked at the binoculars in my hand, which were the **Magical Tool**, and thought of something. I instantly converted the **Magical Tool** into the leaf dress like the one they all wore around their crotches, so that at least I wouldn't look strange. I smudged some dirt on myself to look lost and not so clean, a stark contrast to the primitive world around me.
I decided to tell them a story that I came out hunting with my parents, and my parents were killed by an animal, and I ran out. I didn't know what kind of animals were there in the Stone Age, but I decided to go with the tiger. I already had the **Universal Language**, so communication wouldn't be a problem.
I ran back a bit and decided to run to them, calling for help. It was a good idea, but I needed to pay attention to my acting skills.
I hid behind a tree and saw they all had climbed up all the way and were moving in this direction. I took a deep breath and showed a panicked expression, running and yelling, "Aaaaaa.... help... help.. tiger... There is a tiger..."
I ran to them, yelling, and saw that they all became alert as they saw someone running towards them. I could see they all clenched their weapons in their hands, and I didn't know whether they were targeting me or because I yelled tiger.
I didn't know whether the tiger was even called a tiger in the Stone Age, but I guessed that wouldn't be an issue for me with the **Universal Language**.
As I stood there, panting and trying to catch my breath, the group of tribal men looked at me with suspicion and alertness. Their eyes scanned the surroundings, trying to spot the tiger I had mentioned. I could see the tension in their bodies, the way they gripped their spears tightly, ready to defend themselves at a moment's notice.
One of them, who seemed to be the leader, asked, "Where... where is the tiger?" His voice was gruff, a stark contrast to the primitive world around us.
I could clearly hear them speaking English, and I realized how awesome the **Universal Language** ability was. No matter which language they spoke, I could understand it easily in English, and they would also understand me in their native language.
By their expressions, I knew they had bought my story, and I continued my acting, my voice trembling with fear, and I stammered. "It... It was chasing after me... I don't know..." I said, my voice barely above a whisper, a stark contrast to the tension that filled the air.
The leader asked, "What are you doing here near our tribe?" His voice was stern. I cried, and my voice was trembling as I spoke.
"I lived on the other side of the forest... with my mother and father... because we hadn't had food for many days, dad decided to take us into the forest to hunt... but the tiger attacked them, and they blocked the tiger, asking me to run away..." The words were a web of lies, a story crafted to make them see me as a victim, a stranger in need of their help.
The leader asked, "Which tribe do you belong to?" His voice was curious, a reminder of the complex social structures that existed even in this primitive world. I saw they were still alert, their eyes scanning me, trying to determine if I was a threat or not.
I knew he was asking whether I was from some other tribe; maybe they had enemy tribes here. The thought sent a pang of fear, reminding me that it was a dangerous world.
I said, "I don't belong to any tribe... my mother and father were hunters, so we lived alone and hunted to survive..." I instantly crafted a story to make them see me as an outsider, a stranger in need of their help.
One of the men among them said, "Maybe we should take this kid in... as he must have hunting skills... which might be useful... to our village..." His voice was hopeful, a stark contrast to the tension that filled the air. The thought sent a pang of relief through me, thinking my acting skills were quite good as I had successfully deceived them.
As the other man pointed out my lack of body hair, I couldn't help but feel a mix of amusement and frustration. "Look, he hasn't even grown hair, which means he is just a kid," he said, his finger gesturing towards my crotch.
I glanced at their crotches, noticing the dense pubic hair that was a stark contrast to my clean-shaven skin. Their chests were also covered in hair, while mine was smooth.
My hair length was long, reaching my shoulders, unlike theirs, which were longer, indicating they didn't get haircuts.
The sun hung high, a merciless hammer beating down on the jagged rock outcrop where I lay hidden, the far-seeing scope pressed hard against my eye.
Below, in the sunlit river-valley clearing, the village throbbed with raw, primal life. Thick smoke curled lazily from central cookfires. Hide drums thumped a slow, steady rhythm that seemed to echo in my blood. And the women—fuck, the women—moved like living embodiments of every dark fantasy I'd ever harbored.
They were everywhere, glistening with sweat under the relentless light, bodies built for hard survival and harder breeding.
Massive breasts strained against narrow leaf bands, dark nipples stiff and visible through the thin material, begging to be pinched, sucked, bitten until their owners gasped my name.
Wide hips swayed with every step, grass skirts riding low and loose, flashing thick bushes of dark pubic hair and the shadowed promise between powerful thighs.
Bone necklaces nestled deep in sweat-slick cleavage, polished teeth and beads rising and falling with heavy breaths, brushing sensitive skin.
One woman—bronze-skinned, hair like midnight—bent to stir a cooking pot. Her skirt pulled tight across a round, firm ass, the leaf fabric parting just enough to reveal the dark cleft and the swollen lips beneath.
My cock throbbed painfully against the warm stone, already leaking at the tip.
Eyes of Perversion lit her up like a feast: 180 over each heavy breast, 250 across those childbearing hips, 400 glowing hot and bright over her barely hidden cunt.
Another passed carrying water gourds—caramel skin, breasts even fuller, nipples dark and erect. Bone necklace swinging between them like a pendulum. Numbers flared higher: 200… 280… 450.
Every female in sight became a map of glowing promises—points for every filthy act I could imagine.
I could already feel it: pinning one against a hut wall, ripping that leaf band away, burying my face between those massive tits while she moaned. Sucking those hard nipples until she begged. Bending her over, spreading those thick thighs, sinking deep into wet heat while her bone necklace bounced against my chest.
Claiming them one by one.
Or all at once.
Making them scream my name until the whole village knew who their new master was.
The thought alone nearly made me come untouched.
But patience.
First, the men.
I scanned the village edges and spotted them—a hunting party of eight males emerging from the tree line, moving up the gentle dirt path that climbed toward my ridge.
They carried flint-tipped spears and coils of rough plant-fiber rope. Bare-chested, skin scarred from old hunts, they wore only small leaf aprons tied around their hips—barely concealing thick bushes of pubic hair.
One stood out as leader—taller, broader, a full saber-tooth pelt draped over his crotch like a trophy, its fangs hanging low. His beard was thick and braided with bone beads, face fierce and weathered.
They were heading straight toward my position.
Time to move.
I reshaped the Living Artifact from the scope back into my hide wraps, then focused again.
Broad leaf apron like theirs—rough leaves tied low on my hips, barely covering my still-hard cock.
I smeared dirt across my chest, arms, and face. Rubbed dust into my long hair to dull its shine.
Look lost. Look harmless.
Story locked: orphaned hunter's son, parents killed by a great striped beast deep in the jungle. Alone. Starving. Seeking shelter.
Tongues of the Ancients would handle language.
Safety net: if they turned hostile, the Artifact could become a star-forged blade… or something far deadlier. Eternal Regeneration meant I'd survive anything.
I slipped back down the outcrop, circled wide through the rocks, then broke into a panicked run toward the path—yelling as I came.
"Aaaaaa! Help! Help! Great striped beast!"
I burst into view, stumbling, chest heaving, eyes wide with feigned terror.
The hunters snapped alert—spears raised, bodies coiled.
The leader barked something guttural, stepping forward, pelt swaying.
I skidded to a stop a safe distance away, hands raised, voice trembling.
"It… it came from the deep jungle! Killed my mother and father! They told me to run!"
Tongues of the Ancients worked perfectly—their harsh words reached me as clear English, my panicked pleas hit them in their own tongue.
The leader's eyes narrowed, scanning me, then the tree line.
"Where is this beast?" His voice was gravel and command.
I pointed back, shaking. "Chasing… I barely escaped…"
They exchanged wary glances. Two hunters moved past me cautiously, spears ready, peering into the brush.
The leader turned back, studying me head to toe.
"What tribe, boy?"
I let my voice crack. "No tribe… my parents were lone hunters. We lived beyond the great ridge, following the herds. They taught me to track, to throw spear…"
One younger hunter—lean, scarred chest—spoke up.
"He has no beard yet. No hair on chest or groin. Still a cub."
He gestured crudely toward my leaf apron.
I glanced down—the Artifact had shaped it perfectly, but my smooth skin stood out against their thick body hair spilling everywhere.
The leader grunted, circling me slowly.
"No tribe markings. No scars. Soft skin."
Another hunter laughed roughly. "Lost cub from the spirit world?"
But the scarred one spoke again. "He says his kin hunted. Look at his arms—strong. Shoulders wide. Could learn spear quickly. We lost Gronn last moon to the long-tooth cats. Need fresh blood."
The leader rubbed his braided beard, eyes never leaving mine.
"What is your name, cub?"
"Welheim," I answered, letting my voice steady just enough to show courage.
He nodded slowly.
"I am Karg. Hunt-leader of the River Fang tribe."
He paused, weighing me.
"You ran from a striped death-beast. If true, you are fast. If lie…" He tapped his spear butt against the ground. "…we feed liars to the river crocodiles."
I met his gaze, letting fear show—but not too much.
"I speak truth, Karg. I have nowhere. No kin. I can hunt. I can learn."
Silence stretched, thick as the humid air.
Then Karg grunted.
"You come. Walk with us. If you slow the hunt, we leave you. If you lie…" He drew a thumb across his throat.
The others lowered spears slightly.
Relief flooded me—carefully hidden.
They turned back down the path toward the village.
I fell in behind them, leaf apron swaying, bare feet silent on the dirt.
The drums grew louder.
Smoke rose higher.
And ahead, through the thinning trees, I glimpsed them again—the women.
Massive breasts straining leaf bands.
Bone necklaces nestling in deep cleavage.
Glowing numbers waiting like promises.
The voice purred in my mind, hungry.
First steps taken, my lord. The tribe opens. The points await.
I hid my smile.
River Fang tribe.
Soon to be mine.