She spoke as if discussing the weather, her fingers idly brushing against the fabric of her own covering. "The cock is what allows a woman to bear children when a man's seed is placed inside her."
"After all," she continued, oblivious to the heat crawling up my neck, "It is the cock that plants the seed inside us. Without it, there would be no children, no tribe, no future." She tilted her head, studying me with guileless curiosity.
She spoke of survival, of tradition—her words steady, deliberate—but my focus had long since strayed. All I could imagine was the way her lips might tremble apart if I showed her just how raw, how immediate a man's hunger could be.
"Do you..." Her voice faltered, her eyes darting downward for the briefest moment—just long enough to steal the air from my lungs.
"Does it... Bother you?" she finally murmured, her gaze flicking toward the loose leaves draped around my waist, the ones barely concealing the weight of my arousal.
Uncomfortable? No. Torturous was the word. Exquisite. Maddening.
I swallowed hard, forcing my voice steady. "Sometimes."
Her nod was sage, satisfied. "Then you understand why we must protect it."
Oh, **Aunt Irene**, I thought, I don't want to protect it. I want to ruin it—for you.
I noticed **Aunt Irene** didn't blush and shy away from the topic, but took it as a normal conversation.
I guess they didn't have any perverts like me with them. I looked at **Aunt Irene**, an idea forming in my mind. I decided to go with it and created a story full of lies.
"Aunt Irene," I said, "My grandfather was able to cure all kinds of diseases before he passed away, and he taught me all his knowledge. If anybody gets sick, I can help them, but my grandfather only taught me about a woman's body." The thought of using my knowledge to help the women, to touch them and earn what I liked to call **"Pervert Points,"** was a mix of desire and anticipation.
**Aunt Irene**'s eyes widened in surprise. "That's great. Maybe you can help the Village Chief's woman. I forgot to tell you, she is my friend, and we played together as kids. But after she got together with **Tharok**, she acts differently, feels frustrated and angry at all of us for something or another." Her words were a mix of concern and curiosity, a reminder of the complex social structures that existed even in this primitive world. The thought of helping Hina, of touching her and earning those **Pervert Points**, was a mix of desire and anticipation.
I knew that I had to be patient, to bide my time and find a way to earn those **Pervert Points** without raising suspicion. But the desire was there, burning within me, a constant reminder of the needs and wants that were still very much a part of me.
I looked at **Aunt Irene**, my mind racing with thoughts of the women, of their bodies, of the potential for pleasure and reward. "Aunt Irene," I said, "What do women in our tribe like in a man?" The thought was a mix of curiosity and desire, a reminder of the needs and wants that were still very much a part of me.
As **Aunt Irene**'s fingers ruffled through my hair, her touch sent a jolt of heat straight to my cock. Her voice was warm, almost hypnotic, as she laid out what it took to be a man in this tribe.
"Women like a man who is strong, who can provide for them and their children. They like a man who is kind and gentle, who can make them feel safe and protected." Her words wrapped around me like a promise, but all I could think about was how badly I wanted to provide for her—right now, on the damn spot.
Her hand dropped from my head, and for a second, I thought she might trail it lower, but instead, she gestured toward my crotch with a smirk. "Even if your height has increased to this... You are still a kid. You don't have any hair on your face, and even down there." Her fingers hovered just inches from my cock, and I had to bite back a groan. Fuck, if she touched me, I'd explode right then.
"When you have hair like your Uncle **Grom** and others... then you're considered grown up. And then you can find a woman... to have a child with." Her words hung in the air, thick with implication. My mind raced with filthy images—her hands on me, her body pressed against mine, her teaching me exactly what it meant to be a man.
I glanced down at her leaf-covered tits, the way they rose and fell with each breath, the nipples just barely hidden beneath the flimsy covering.
My cock twitched, aching to be free, to show her just how grown I could be. I imagined ripping those leaves off, burying my face between her thighs, and making her scream until she forgot all about hair and age and tribe rules.
"I'll grow fast, Aunt Irene," I growled, my voice rough like the scrape of flint against stone. "I'll hunt the biggest beasts. Build the strongest shelter. No storm, no beast, no rival tribe will touch you." I said this to win over **Aunt Irene**... I am sure these women haven't heard sweet words...
Then, with a suddenness that stole my breath, she pulled me into her arms, her embrace crushing me against the soft, overwhelming weight of her body. "Oh..." she murmured, her voice thick with teasing warmth, "then you'd better keep your word, little hunter. Protect your aunt well... and don't forget me when you find a woman of your own."
My fingers twitched, then landed—a deliberate, grazing brush against the leaves clinging to her chest. The contact sent a jolt through me, but the real thrill came when my face pressed forward, muffled against the warm weight of her breasts.
Then I saw it.
The translucent overlay flickered— **100 points** on each breast vanishing the moment my skin made contact, the system registering my touch like a predator claiming territory. Only the **200-point dots** over her nipples remained, pulsing faintly, daring me.
I pulled back just enough to check my total— **298**. A smirk tugged at my lips. Easy. Too easy. But then I remembered the prices in that damn **Store**—skills and abilities locked behind numbers so high they might as well have been written in blood. Still. Points were points. And I'd take what I could get.
The air thickened between us as **Aunt Irene**'s nipples pushed through the flimsy cover of leaves, dark and swollen, practically begging for my mouth.
The heat rolling off her skin, the way her heavy tits pressed against me—it was too much. My lungs burned, but not from lack of air. No, it was the way her body *smothered* me, the way her breath hitched when I shifted just right, like she didn't even realize how badly she was teasing me.
The embers in the fire pit had burned low, casting a soft, flickering glow that danced across the hut's mud-and-bone walls. The air was thick with the scent of herbs, smoke, and the unmistakable musk of our bodies after the storm of passion—sweat-slick skin, the sharp tang of release, the deep, earthy proof of what I'd done to Grom's own sister.
Irene lay beside me on the wide sleeping furs for a long moment, chest rising and falling in slow, deep breaths. Her bronze skin glistened with sweat, breasts bare and heavy, dark nipples still swollen and sensitive from my mouth, from the way I'd sucked and bitten until she arched and begged. My seed leaked slowly from her stretched pussy, a primal mark I couldn't stop staring at—thick, white evidence of how thoroughly I'd filled her, claimed her, bred her on her brother's own furs.
Eventually she stirred, sitting up with a soft sigh that made her breasts sway enticingly. She reached for her discarded leaf band and grass skirt, tying them back into place with practiced ease—the narrow band across her chest barely containing her massive breasts, dark nipples pressing visibly against the thin leaves. The skirt settled low on wide hips, leaving the curve of her ass visible when she moved, the faint glisten of our combined fluids still on her inner thighs.
I watched every movement, cock already stirring again—thickening, hardening, refusing to soften despite the release.
She glanced at me, a shy but satisfied smile touching her lips, eyes lingering on my body with new warmth.
"You should cover yourself too, little one. The night air is cool."
I nodded, reaching for my leaf apron. The Living Artifact reshaped it smoothly, but as I tied it, my erection refused to subside—thick, throbbing, tenting the leaves obviously, the outline unmistakable, tip already beading with fresh need.
Irene noticed immediately.
Her eyes widened slightly, then softened with that same maternal concern, though a flush crept up her neck.
"The sickness... it returns so soon?"
She touched her own nipple through the leaf band, wincing faintly as it hardened under her fingers, the memory of my mouth clearly stirring her.
"And for me... a little ache. The hardness here. The wetness between my legs. I thought your touch had chased it away forever."
Her voice was innocent, confused—believing the shattering pleasure I'd given her, the way I'd made her come again and again, was a true, permanent cure.
I seized the opening, shifting closer on the furs, letting the apron part just enough to reveal more of my hardness.
"Aunt Irene," I said softly, letting gratitude and concern fill my voice, "what you felt... the release, the storm breaking inside you... that was the cure. My grandfather—he was a great healer before the spirits took him. He taught me the secrets of women's bodies. How to ease the sickness with the right touch."
Her eyes lit with wonder, hand still resting on her breast, thumb unconsciously circling the nipple.
"Truly? He knew how to banish it completely?"
I nodded solemnly, letting my gaze linger on her body—the swell of her tits, the way her thighs pressed together under the skirt.
"Yes. The fire, the leaking, the ache—it builds if not released. That's why I... helped you. Like he taught. The storm must break fully, or it returns."
Lie wrapped in truth.
She reached for my hand, squeezing tight, fingers trembling with memory.
"You healed me, Welheim. My brother's sister... whole again because of you."
The taboo words—my brother's sister—sent fresh heat surging through me, cock twitching visibly under the apron, pre-cum beading at the tip.
I shifted closer, erection still obvious, the leaf apron doing nothing to hide it now.
"And if it returns... I can help again. Always. As many times as needed."
She flushed deeply, but nodded eagerly, thighs pressing together harder, a soft gasp escaping as the ache stirred.
"Yes... please. The ache is small now, but I fear it growing. And..." Her gaze dropped to my tented apron, eyes darkening. "It bothers you too?"
I met her gaze, letting a hint of vulnerability show, voice rough.
"Sometimes. The hardness. The need. It aches."
She swallowed, eyes dark with concern and rising heat.
"Then... perhaps you can teach me to ease yours, as you eased mine."
The invitation hung heavy, her hand resting on my thigh—close enough to feel the heat radiating from my cock.
But I played the healer, guiding her gently.
"First, Aunt Irene... tell me of the other women. Do they suffer this sickness too?"
She nodded, voice dropping to a whisper, as if sharing a sacred shame.
"Many. We speak of it quietly, when the men hunt. My daughter Kelly—she leaks often, says it distracts her, makes her restless on hunts. And Hina, Tharok's woman—my childhood friend. She has grown angry, frustrated with everyone. The ache makes her sharp, unhappy."
Her hand rested on my knee now, fingers tracing small circles—innocent comfort, but sending fire through me.
"If your grandfather's knowledge can help them... secretly, like you helped me..."
I smiled inwardly, triumph burning.
"I will, Aunt Irene. For Kelly. For Hina. For any who suffer. I will ease their pain, as I eased yours."
She beamed, pulling me into another embrace—breasts pressing hard against my chest, nipples erect through leaves, bone necklace cool between us.
"Thank you, nephew. You are River Fang's blessing. A true gift from the spirits."
As she held me, I let my hand "accidentally" brush her breast—feeling the hard nipple, earning quiet points as the dot flickered and vanished.
200 from one, then the other as I "shifted."
She gasped softly, body arching slightly, but didn't pull away—only held tighter.
The path was wide open.
The women would come—starting with her daughter, then the chief's own woman.
Points would flood.
Power would follow.
Irene released me, settling back with a contented sigh, thighs still pressed together.
"Sleep now. Tomorrow, Grom returns. We must be careful—no one can know how you heal, or the men might not understand."
I curled against her, arm over her hip, fingers resting possessively near her mound, feeling the lingering heat.
She sighed, body relaxing into mine, head on my shoulder.
I stared at the dying embers, mind racing with plans.
Kelly first—Irene's own daughter, blood of my "aunt."
Then Hina—the chief's woman.
Each "cure" earning points, binding them to me.
The tribe's women would soon beg for my touch.
And through them, the men would fall.
River Fang would be mine—body and soul.
The voice purred in my mind, velvet and hungry.
The sister opens the door. Walk through, my lord. The tribe is yours to claim.
I smiled into the darkness, fingers tightening on Irene's hip.
The hunt had only begun.
And the prey had no idea they were already caught.