Elder Mitt repeated the story, his voice steady and reassuring. Before I could say anything, I found myself wrapped in the arms of one of the won. She was shorter than I, and as she embraced , my chest pressed against her breasts.
The warmth of her was overwhelming—her skin radiated heat, and the softness of her breasts, full and heavy, crushed against my chest with a pressure that sent an electric jolt down my spine.
The leaves she wore as clothing did little to conceal the texture of her nipples, already hardened into tight peaks that grazed against with every breath she took.
The contrast of her dark, pinkish areolas against her sun-kissed skin was intoxicating, and the scent of her—earthy, musky, like warm honey mixed with the faintest trace of smoke—filled my lungs, making my head spin.
"Oh, you poor, poor child..." Her voice was a soft whisper, thick with sympathy, wrapping around like a physical embrace. "You must be so scared... so lost... But you don’t have to be anymore. We’re here now. We’ll keep you safe. No one will hurt you again."
I could hear the sincerity in her words, feel the genuine kindness in the way her fingers traced slow, soothing circles on my back, as if I were sothing fragile, sothing precious.
But beneath that comfort, there was sothing else—sothing primal, sothing that made my cock swell painfully against the flimsy covering of leaves I wore.
The sensation was almost unbearable, the fabric doing nothing to hide the growing bulge, the throbbing need that pulsed with every heartbeat.
Mitt’s voice cut through the mont, gruff but not unkind. "I’ll take him to my house. He’ll live there. You can et him later—I have to go back. Ryan and the others are waiting for in the forest."
I swallowed hard, my voice rough with an emotion I couldn’t quite na. "Thank you," I managed to say, my throat tight.
The won stepped back, their expressions shifting from warmth to understanding. They knew the rhythms of this life—hunting, survival, the unspoken rules that governed their world.
And then there was the problem.
My cock was rock-hard, straining against the leaves that did absolutely nothing to hide it. The leaf skirt clung to , but it was useless—every shift of my body made the bulge more obvious, more embarrassing.
I watched as Mitt turned to leave, his stride purposeful, his body already tensed for whatever awaited him beyond the village. The weight of his absence settled over , the realization that I was now in their care, in their world, with no way back..
The leaves I was wearing couldn’t cover , and I knew I needed to do sothing about it. I instantly used the Magical Tool to create a structure like underwear, but from the outside, it would look the sa as theirs, just leaves.
The tool stretched and morphed, forming into a leaf-like underwear that covered my erection, a stark contrast to the primitive world around us.
Mitt called out, "Kerry, Kerry." His voice was full of affection.
As we walked in, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation. I didn’t know what Mitt’s wife looked like, but I was ready to find out, ready to face whatever challenges and obstacles lay ahead. This was my new world, my new life, and I was ready to claim it as my own, to explore the raw, untad beauty that surrounded .
Mitt’s hut was exactly what I expected—rough, practical, and undeniably lived in. The air inside was thick with the scent of dried herbs, smoked at, and the faint musk of bodies that had slept and sweated within these walls for years.
A massive stone slab lay in one corner, flat and worn smooth by years of use, likely serving as a bed. Spears leaned against the walls, their tips sharpened to deadly points, their shafts polished from constant handling. Bundles of dried leaves—clothing, I assud—were scattered about, so folded neatly, others tossed aside in haste.
I suddenly saw a woman... it must be Kerry, Mitt’s wife or woman. Her body was a mix of exotic beauty and beautiful charm, her skin a rich, sun-kissed bronze, her hair a cascade of dark, silken strands that fell to her waist.
Her breasts were full and firm, their weight causing them to sway gently with her every movent. Her waist was narrow, tapering down to wide hips that flared out in a way that made my hands itch to grip them.
She turned toward Mitt first, her voice laced with surprise and a hint of concern. "Mitt, you’re back so early. I wasn’t expecting you until sundown. Did sothing happen?"
Mitt shook his head, his expression serious. "No trouble. But we found soone who needs us." He gestured toward . "His family was taken by a tiger. He’s alone now. We’re taking him in."
I saw Kerry coming over, her body moving seductively. She hugged tightly, her tits pressing against ; I could feel her nipples poking at my bare chest, making gasp.
She patted on the back, her voice a mix of kindness and comfort. "It’s okay, don’t be sad. From now on, we will be your family." From her voice, it felt like she was comforting .
I nodded. I could feel my cock wanting to explode now, as Kerry was just hugging my upper body.
If she moved just a little lower, if her hips brushed against mine, she’d feel it. She’d know exactly what her body was doing to . The thought sent another surge of blood rushing south, and I had to clench my jaw to keep from reacting, to keep from pressing myself against her like so desperate, rutting animal.
Mitt’s voice broke the tension, his tone urgent but not unkind. "Kerry, you take care of him. I have to go—Ryan and the others are waiting."
She pulled back, her eyes lingering on for a mont before she nodded, her expression serious. "Go. Be safe."
Mitt went back, leaving Kerry and alone in the hut.
Kerry stepped back, she tilted her head, studying with an intensity that made my skin prickle, her dark eyes tracing over my face, my chest, lingering just a little too long on the way the leaves clung to my hips.
"What’s your na, kid?" she asked, her voice soft but curious, like she was trying to morize the sound of it.
I forced a smile, keeping my voice light, innocent. "Dexter."
"Dexter," she repeated, as if testing the sound of it on her tongue. Then, softly, "If you want... You can call Aunt Kerry. From now on, your Aunt Kerry and Uncle Mitt will be your family."
The words hit harder than I expected. There was sothing about the way she said it—like it was a vow, sothing unbreakable. Like I belonged here, with her, in this hut, in this life.
"Aunt Kerry," I said, the title feeling strange on my tongue, foreign but not unwelco.
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