This story is inspired from the movie called the savage is loose but the characters and the story is completely my idea and nothing is taken from the movie.
All the characters in the story are above 18. This story is pure fictional.
-
-
A family of three has been stranded on an island for eight years. Tom Woods, along with his wife Christina and son Jason.
They had been accustomed to living on the island, as they didn't see any way of escaping or being rescued. They had built themselves a wooden house and lived there while trying to look for ways to get off the island.
Jason had turned twenty this year, and the distance between him and his parents was getting much farther.
The reason being, Jason was attracted to his mother, who had been his only love since his young age. On top of that, Jason watched their intimate sessions, and that too multiple times had made him attracted to his mother. Even when they knew that their son was watching them, they had been so engrossed in their act that they just ignored him.
So, it had become quite difficult for them to have sex because of their son. They could only get brief moments where they could get alone when Jason went off into the wild.
Jason's pov:
The damned island--I don't know just how many years it has been since we got stranded here. Mom told me that we would get off this island, but it doesn't seem like we will be leaving anytime soon.
I was done with today's hunt and was on my way back to the house, carrying the fruits and coconuts. We had plenty of those on the other side of the island.
Dad taught me how to hunt and went with me for a while, but I was the only one going out for food now. It seemed like he didn't like me anymore, as he was distancing himself from me. We rarely talk nowadays, and I think I know why, but I don't want to talk about it with him.
My mother, who was always tender and loving when I was young, now rarely talks to me either.
I reached the house, and just as I was about to enter, I heard the noise.
Noise of my mom moaning. They were doing it again; whenever I go out, they always do it.
I once told my mom that I wanted to, just like my father did. She just told me that it was wrong, but I can't stop feeling like that.
I watched through the holes, but while doing so, I stepped on a twig, and they stopped.
My dad got up, and I was afraid that he would say anything. So I just ran away.
I hid in the distance behind the rocks and watched Dad come outside. Then he saw the things I left behind. I am sure he was aware that I was watching them now.
I could tell he was pretty angry about it.
I remember the first time, when I saw them, I asked my mom about what they were doing. She told me that they were making love, and people who love each other do those things with each other.
Then why can't I do it with my mother? I also love her, probably more than my dad could.
She was attentive and caring towards me up until a couple of years ago. All of a sudden, she started avoiding touching me and distanced herself from me.
After a while, I returned to the wooden house. Mom was busy preparing food and dad sat outside doing only what he knew.
I got used to wearing only shorts, and I had only one pair of them, which mom prepared for me.
We sat at the small table, but I just sat there watching my mom; she wore a strappy sundress, which showed her ample skin, and it only made it harder for me to not stare at her.
Mom was conscious of my stare; she tried to adjust her dress, and when she brought me the bowl, I moved my hands to take it, but she just moved and placed it on the table. The look on her face was as if she were watching me like an animal.
Dad always had the same look when he hunted those boars. There was a herd of them on the island, with several other animals lurking here and there.
Dad always said that the law of the jungle was that strong preys on the weak, and he had told me things about being a man and to never back down in a fight. These were the lessons he gave me when I was young when we were hunting. Just being strong doesn't solve anything, but we should also be smart about it.
I wanted to talk to my mother, as I couldn't keep this going on. It had been nagging my mind, and the penis hurt like hell whenever I saw them. Dad told me once, when I asked him about it, to use my hands, but it wasn't enough for me.
After eating, dad went out, and I checked if he was around the house. He seemed to have walked to the beach.
I went to my mother and asked, "Mom, can I ask you something?"
Avoiding my gaze, she told me in an annoyed voice, "If it's the same thing you are going to ask again, then no. Get out of here."
Frustration and anger built up in me as I said, "You are the one who said all those things about love. Why can't I make love with you?"
"Because it's wrong, and you are my son."
"Mom, I can't stay like this forever; I don't know how long I can endure."
That's when I heard my father's voice: "What the fuck did you say?"
I turned to him and could see his angry face, burning with pure rage. "You immoral bastard! Do you know what you are saying?"
I replied, "Yes." feeling the intense glare of him.
In an instant, he was charging at me with a knife in his hand. I could barely react. My father and I were of the same build; all those years on this island, he still had it. He closed the distance between us and his strength and size were overwhelming, and I felt his weight crash into me like a tidal wave.
The knife slashed through the air and I felt the sting of it as it grazed my arm and then my side.
Blood started to come out as fast as I could feel the pain, adrenaline pushed me through, and I struggled against him, but he didn't seem like he would stop until I was dead.
'He wants to kill me!' That realization hit like a huge boulder, smashing me whole. My own father is trying to kill me!
Mother stood with her hands over her mouth, not even trying to stop him.
I needed to collect myself and I knew this wasn't time the to be distracted.
Blood trickled down my skin from the wounds he gave, I didn't have time to think about it. I managed to wrench myself from his grasp, stumbling backwards. I turned and ran as fast as I could, my breath became haggard as I pushed myself to keep running.
As I ran away, I could hear his voice as he said, "Get back here, you coward!"
I ran deep into the foliage and didn't stop. Reaching the thick forest, I hid myself under a tree trunk.
The pain from the wounds was growing stronger as it throbbed.
I didn't expect my father to act so violently.
Tearing the cloth of my shorts, I cleaned my wounds and went towards the other end of the beach to get some coconut water. After drinking, I sat there, trying to relax.
My father made it clear now: I need to win over my father, and then only I can get to my mother. But she seemed like she was on his side. Did she want me dead too?
***
Back at the wooden house,
Christine couldn't believe what she saw. Both her husband and her son were fighting, and her husband almost killed her son. She felt conflicted and didn't know if what her husband had done was right.
And Jason wasn't trying to force himself on her like her husband did a few times. There were instances where she didn't want to have sex with him when her son was watching when he was a little boy, but her husband didn't listen to her and said that he was just a kid and continued to have sex with her.
It seemed like all of their actions had led them here. She then asked him, "What do you think you are doing? Are you trying to kill him?"
Tom yelled, "Then what should I do? Should I let him fuck you? Do you want that?"
Christine frowned and said, "Tom, sometimes, it feels like you are no different than an animal. How could you possibly want to kill your son?"
Tom's face wrinkled with annoyance as he said, "I will kill him, I will not spare him anymore. This has been long overdue. I thought he would get over it as he grew, but it seems like he cannot."
Christine bit her lips. It was true, Jason didn't seem like he would stop anytime soon. But was it right to kill their own son?
Tom took his machete and a knife and walked out of the house. He followed the trail of blood as he went into the forest.
After searching for a while, he found his resting spot, but Jason couldn't see anywhere.
Chrisine felt restless seeing her husband leave and she ran after him.
She found him standing on the other side of the island, looking for their son.
Jason was soon found near the end of a rocky cliff area; he was waiting for his father. He held two long wooden spears.
Christine stood there at the back, watching those two, she didn't want to know what to do as she was powerless to stop them.
She shouted and screamed at the top of her lungs for them to stop, but Tom had already stepped forward, his machete swinging in a wide arc. Jason sidestepped quickly, using the uneven ground to his advantage. As Tom's momentum carried him forward, Jason thrust one of his spears at his father's exposed side. Tom twisted, deflecting the spear with his knife, but the motion left him off balance.
Jason retreated a few steps, positioning himself near a cluster of boulders. Tom recovered swiftly, charging at his son. He slashed with his machete, forcing Jason to parry with one of his spears. The force of the blow resonated through Jason's arms, but he held firm, using the second spear to jab at Tom's legs.
Tom stumbled backward, tripping over a loose rock. He caught himself, but not before Jason seized the opportunity to strike. With a swift, calculated move, Jason thrust his spear at Tom's chest. Tom deflected it, but the rocky ground beneath his feet gave way, causing him to lose his footing again.
Seeing his father struggle, Jason pressed the attack. He used the spears not only as weapons but as tools to manipulate the terrain. He drove Tom towards a narrow passage between two large boulders, limiting his father's movement. Tom swung his machete in desperation, but the confined space made it difficult to use effectively.
Jason, more agile, darted in and out of Tom's reach, landing quick, stinging strikes with his spears. Each time Tom tried to counter, Jason used the terrain to his advantage, ducking behind rocks and leaping over crevices. His father's strength was formidable, but it was useless against an opponent who refused to meet him head-on.
