Professor Fiona Cookson removed her hat and wiped her forehead. It was 95 degrees with stifling humidity, and being from New England, she wasn't used to such hot, humid weather, Still, the invitation to explore the jungles of Rwanda had been something she couldn't turn down. The bio-diversity of life deep in the jungle was nothing short of startling. After 10 years in a stuffy university setting, it was what she'd been yearning for, to see firsthand, what she taught about.
Her colleagues were just as adventurous as she was, 6 female professors who had gotten the chance to get out of the stuffy university setting, and really sink their teeth into something special. They had just made camp for the day when all hell broke loose. There was a crashing through the bushes, and a tribe of fierce warriors with painted faces rushed at them. Professor Cookson had just jumped to her feet before she felt the sting of a dart fired by the blowguns they were carrying. She saw her colleagues falling, and she joined them, tumbling down a black void into unconsciousness.
"Fiona, Fiona, wake up."
The world swam back into focus, she opened his eyes to see Professor Natasha Highmore. She swiveled her head, and saw they were in a cave, the front of which was closed off with a sturdy-looking cage front, what the hell, what was going on? Her expression was answered before she even asked the question.
Natasha said, "I don't know what the hell is going on, other than that we've been captured by a native tribe. Those darts put me out before I even knew what was what."
"Have you seen any of the natives?" Fiona asked.
"Not yet, but I figure we'll see them soon, and find out what they have planned for us."
A few minutes later, they heard the approach of their captors. A group of fierce-looking warriors, all of them at least 6 feet or taller, all very strong and fit, appeared. They wore very little, just a small loincloth. Judging by the bulges beneath them, the males looked to be well-endowed.
The male warrior who looked like the leader pointed to Fiona, and motioned for her to approach the cage door. Having no choice, she complied, they had seen firsthand how experienced they were with blowpipe weapons, and she had a feeling that the sharp-looking spears that they were carrying were not just for show. When she stepped out, two warriors took her arms and led him. Their grips were strong but not painful, and she was in no mood to test their strength. They led him over to a small hut and took her inside. Another of the tribe was there, and she was seated before him.
She was amazed when she heard him say, "Speak English?"
"Yes, yes I do, how do you know our language?"
"Have learned from others."
He did not explain it any further, and she waited for him to tell her more.
"When the moon is bright and high in the sky, is time for fertility rites. We need different females for the rites."
Fiona thought, and that would be us.
"We will be rewarded, for providing the right females for fertility. Please, remove clothing."
Fiona gaped at him, but when her escorts brandished their weapons, she knew she had no choice but to comply. She pulled off her hiking boots, unbuttoned her safari shorts, and let them drop to her ankles. Her safari shirt was also quickly shed, and with a 'keep going' look from the spokesman, she reluctantly unhooked her bra, letting it tumble away, and she shoved her white cotton panties down, letting them pool at her feet. She was now stark naked, she felt horribly exposed, but she wanted to put up a brave front. Rather than do the silly, girly thing of trying to cover her breasts and her crotch with her hands, she left her arms at her sides and stood tall, facing the spokesman.
He got up and walked closer, and she steeled herself for his hands, and who knew how much else, to make contact with her body. He started to walk around her, looking closely but not touching, he made various comments to her escorts in the native language, and they replied in hushed, almost reverential voices. She could almost feel his eyes traveling up and down her body as he circled.
"Yes, very nice, perfect for fertility rites. You may cover yourself again."
She quickly got dressed, he made a motion with his hands, and her escorts led her away. Instead of being led back to the cage, she was led to a large hut. They motioned her inside, and she looked around, letting her eyes get used to the dimness. She could see 6 spaces that had mounds of what looked like some kind of straw, and she got the idea that they were beds. Just like a dormitory, went through her mind. She went over to one of the spaces, testing how soft it was, she lay down on it, and let out a soft sigh, it was very comfortable, and she let her mind drift. She hoped that her comrades would be joining her soon.
In due time, all 6 of them were reunited, and they all related a similar story, having to strip naked, being looked over but not touched, being pronounced as fit for a fertility rite, and then being brought to the hut.
Professor Catherine Latham said, "Fertility rites, I wonder how many of them are going to fuck us? Great excuse for an orgy. There must be some way to get out of this."
Professor Hillary Hutchins joined in, "I get the feeling that there's nothing we can do about it. They've got 4 of the tribe guarding the entrance to the hut. And even if we were able to escape, we no longer have our gear. We don't even know exactly where we are, with us being knocked out, who knows how far they brought us? I think we're going to have no choice.''
Three native women entered the hut, each of them carrying two large, crude platters. The aromas of freshly cooked food filled the hut, and the women realized how hungry they were. The native women smiled at them, setting a wooden bowl before each of them, and motioned for them to eat. The sounds of hungry eating filled the hut, and they quickly filled their empty bellies.
Fiona sat back, pleasantly sated, and sighed, ''Oh that was delicious.''
The phrase, ''fattening us up for the kill'' skittered through her mind, and she quickly squelched that down.
Hillary said, "Well, it will be a full moon the night after tomorrow, I think we'll see exactly what their rites are then."
Two nights later, it was time. Fiona was escorted from the hut and led to a large clearing, a big bonfire was blazing. The spokesman approached her, and said, "It is time, please remove clothing."
When she was naked, a woman approached her, and using paints created from various plant dyes, painted various designs on her body, she had no idea what if anything they stood for.
When she was done, another woman approached her and blew some scented dust into her face. When she breathed it in, she felt herself slipping into a drugged stupor, her body was lifted, and carried to a large altar, and she was lifted into position.
Her arms were lifted above her head, wrists bound together with jungle vines, and another jungle vine was looped through the wrist vines, and looped around a rock projection at the top of the altar. She saw that the altar had been carved in such a way that her legs would be well spread, and lifted up and back, almost like being on a doctor's exam table, with her feet in the stirrups. She watched with drugged eyes, as her legs were fitted into the carved legrests, and her ankles were bound to the bottom of the altar.