“Going Native,” part 2
M’li led Maggie to the clearing center, where a fire was pitched.
“Here comes Maggie, ready to truly join us,” M’li told the assembled women. Understanding her completely, they gathered a few things and led Maggie to sit on a log on the ground.
“First, Maggie wishes to decorate her feet like a Tineri.” Two women standing next to Maggie gestured for her to recline and hand them her feet. Though she was embarrassed at how white they were and how short her nails were, she looked forward to having proper Tineri decorations on them. The women cleaned the feet with s’mati, then began the process of fitting her toes with rings. Maggie had elected to have the middle three toes of each foot ringed. This entailed the women sliding rings of the proper size onto each toe, then hammering them to secure them in place. When they were finished, Maggie marveled at the beauty of her new foot jewelry. Wiggling her toes, she fantasized: could she, someday, feel another woman’s tongue on her toes? She knew that she had really just begun the journey to having feet sexy enough to attract another, and she knew that her white skin would be an ongoing deterrent, but perhaps she could one day experience her foot fetish from the receiving side.
“Now, Maggie wishes to be pierced like a Tineri,” M’li announced. The women produced a couple plates of light green leaves they called fl’upsli, which they mashed with a mortar and pestle. At the same time, M’li produced a set of thin metal spikes. With tongs, she held them each over the fire for a minute, then dropped them in a basin of water.
When they were ready, copious amounts of the pale leaves were rubbed onto Maggie’s nose and her nipples. The herbs stung initially, then left the affected area cool and numb. Maggie gathered that they were antiseptics and local anaesthetics. Once the ladies were satisfied that sufficient fl’upsli had been applied, M’li began.
She took a needle from the basin, where it has been cooling, and lined it up with Maggie’s right nipple. It was thin, much thinner than the rods and rings hanging from the nipples of the other Tineri women. Maggie wondered how she would fit the large metal piercings she wanted into the small hole to be rendered by the needle.
The thought vanished as M’li drove the needle through Maggie’s nipple and left it in. The pain was exceptional. Unexpectedly, Maggie’s shallow breathing turned into pique. She found that the experience had left her with a desperate desire to masturbate, though she resisted while the other women were there.
Another sharp pain followed. M’li had pierced the other nipple with another thin needle and left it it. A couple drops of blood flowed from each nipple.
“Good, my love,” M’li said. “We will let those heal for a few days, then we will stretch your holes out until we can fit rings the size you want in them.”
She then grabbed a third needle and positioned it slightly above Maggie’s nostril. “This will hurt. We haven’t numbed your septum. Shall I still go through with it?”
“Please...yes. I want it so b—”
M’li cut her off, plunging the needle through one nostril, the septum, and out the other side. Maggie’s eyes watered, and the pain was incredible, but she had a rod through her nose, just like all the other Tineri women. The thought was an incredible turn-on.
Some blood flowed down her nostrils, reminding Maggie of the nose job on which her parents had spent a small fortune. Maggie laughed, wishing she could go back in time and get the plastic surgeon to give her a wide, flat nose like the gorgeous African noses of her fellow Tineri.
“M’li, could you please also pierce my septum and nostril?” Maggie asked. Her friend happily complied.
“Thank you, M’li. These piercings are all so beautiful.”
“Yes, love. You are now marked like a Tineri woman should be.”
That was true. Certainly by the time she had stretched out each of these holes, there would be no concealing her modifications.
Maggie stood, feeling accomplished.
The next day, Maggie drank her riprasha drink and went foraging with M’li. They were looking for the various herbs the tribe used in cooking and for their various treatments and rituals, as well as anything else of interest. Several of the herbs grew in great quantities on the shore of the brook, miles downstream, As a Tineri, a miles-long trek was no issue, of course. And so Maggie embarked with her friend, in search of these sought-after herbs.
As the two walked, Maggie asked M’li about her background. M’li had shied away from the topic in the past, but the bond between them was stronger than ever, Maggie figured. She was correct—M’li relayed her story as they walked.
M’li had grown up American, she explained, like Maggie. In college, she majored in anthropology. A few years ago, she traveled to Africa to observe one of the tribes she had learned about—the Tineri—and in the course of observation, she somehow growing attached to the tribe, to the point that she wanted to join. She learned to live by tribal customs, she learned the language, and she underwent the same sorts of body modifications Maggie was now undergoing. Eventually, she was accepted as a member of the tribe.
Maggie stopped, her bare feet sodden in mud, and grabbed M’li by the arm. In the Tineri tongue she now used exclusively, she asked her friend, “Is there hope for me? Is it possible that, one day, I’ll be accepted as a Tineri, just like you?”
M’li smiled. She knew this disquiet well, and she also knew how to remedy it. Taking Maggie by the hand, she guided her to the bank of the brook. “Look at the water. What do you see?”
“I see where we collect our water and wash our pots.”
“Yes, but look in the water.”
Maggie looked again at the slowly-moving water and saw, for the first time in months, her reflection. “I see myself.”
M’li approached Maggie from behind. “Good. Tell me about this woman you see,” M’li said as she snaked an arm around Maggie’s waist.
Paying attention, Maggie noticed how different she looked. The American who went on safari would scarcely recognize the woman she had become. Her long blonde hair had grown unruly. Her natural peachy complexion had turned deeply bronzen, including her breasts, which also bore the beginnings of Tineri-style nipple rings. While her face retained elements of the classic Western beauty she had been, those elements were overwhelmed by the tribal modifications she had undertaken.
“I see … myself … trying …”
“Yes, love, you are trying so hard … and I have faith that you will realize your dreams,” M’li said. She raised the arm around Maggie’s waist and began to fondle one of Maggie’s nipple piercings. Maggie yelped—it was still tender—and the girls both laughed.
“Someday soon, you’ll have nice rings in your tits, like mine,” M’li reassured her protege.
“Mmmmm… I can’t wait, love.” Maggie imagined herself with gigantic rings through each nipple, of the sort that pierced M’li’s. She could practically feel the rings’ weight, dragging her nipples down, elongating them over time. The thought was titillating, but Maggie glanced at her lover’s chest and shook the thought off. Maggie’s bronze bee-stings would never compare to M’li’s glorious ebony rack, nor would Maggie’s pinkish areolas ever compare to the magnificence dark circles around M’li’s nipples.
Turning sour, she confided in M’li, “Even with rings, I’ll never have tits like yours.”
“Shhh, love. Look at our feet.”
Maggie looked down. M’li placed her right foot alongside Maggie’s right, to ease the comparison. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking, but Maggie thought her toenails looked longer. No matter—they’d be as long as any other Tineri woman’s soon enough. Her bare feet had a thin layer of dust on the bottoms and between the toes, remnants of walking through a puddle and picking up dirt from the path. The tops were deeply tanned. She didn’t even feel the toe rings while she was walking, they fit so snugly. Those rings were very sexy, though it occurred to her that they would leave unmistakable tan lines were they ever removed. Another difficulty she encountered as a white woman that her Tineri sisters didn’t.
Maggie eyed the M’li’s ebony foot with a mix of awe, jealousy, and lust. The deep brown coloring of the tops juxtaposed wonderfully with the peach bottoms. The toenails were just long enough to start to curve. And Maggie, despite worshipping M’li’s feet many times, noticed for the first time that her toe rings had actually grown flush with the skin—her toes had essentially incorporated the jewelry into them. Maggie wondered if that could ever happen to her feet.
Her sour mood continued. “I’ll never have feet as pretty as yours, either. Mine are tan, but they’ll never be dark like yours.”
“Shhh, love.” M’li pivoted to face Maggie, who turned into the embrace, the two wrapping their arms around each other. M’li turned her head, with Maggie gratefully parting her lips to accept M’li’s tongue. They made out for minutes, standing alone on the path.
M’li broke the kiss to whisper, “What if you could be more like me and our Tineri sisters?”
“You know I’ll do anything to be accepted as one of the tribe.”
“I know, love. But I don’t know that you understand what I’m saying. If there was a way to make you fully Tineri, would you take it?”
“There is nothing I would want more.”
“Even if it meant that there would be no going back? You could never leave us?”
“I don’t want to leave! I want to be a Tineri!”
“Good, love. Our riprasha is coming up. I think you’ll be ready.”
Maggie didn’t understand what the riprasha entailed or what exactly M’li meant, but she was very aroused at the thought of becoming a full-fledged member of the tribe. She reached for M’li’s loincloth but was rebuffed.
“Later—we have to get those herbs.” The girls continued their walk.
Several miles down the shore, Maggie noticed some signs of civilization. She could hear cars whizzing somewhere nearby, and in the distance, she could see tall buildings peer out over the tree line. The soil beneath her feet turned to sand. She was on a beach.
M’li led her down to the ocean shoreline and across, past several “PRIVATE PROPERTY” and “NO TRESPASSING” signs. The calming rhythm of the waves crashing, along with the ocean breeze, reminded Maggie of another time in her life, when she loved going to the beach with her girlfriends and laying out in the sun for hours. She would load up her Jetta with a beach bag and some book about sexy vampires, head down to South Beach, and set up shop for the day. It amazed Maggie how foreign all of that seemed to her now.
Out of the corner of her eye, she detected movement. A beach ball! Drawing on reflexes honed as a second team all-ACC volleyball player, she turned and thumped the ball back where it came from. It fell unreturned, the ball’s owner standing agape at the two topless women wandering by. It was then that Maggie realized that M’li had taken her by the resort she was staying at, back when she was a mere tourist in Africa.
A gaggle of resort staff swiftly approached her and M’li, surrounding them and demanding that they leave. M’li feigned a lack of understanding of their English directives and tried to march on, but the staff blocked her. The commotion attracted a small crowd of guests. It was then that Maggie realized that she was the object of the commotion—the white woman who had “gone native.”
She suddenly felt naked and instinctively covered her chest with her arms, but M’li pried the arm apart and returned them to her side. In Tineri, she hissed, “Fuck them. You aren’t one of them any more. You are Tineri!”
M’li was right. Who gave a shit what some tourists thought of her? Yes, she was white, but she wasn’t bound by her old standards for beauty or acceptable attire. She loved wearing only a loincloth, having numerous face piercings, and decorating her feet—each of these things made her more Tineri. With pride, she joined M’li in trying to advance past the staff and down the beach.
Eventually, though, staff reinforcements arrived, and the two girls were forced to turn around and find another way. As they retreated, though, Maggie caught a glimpse of a tall brunette on the beach, wearing an expensive-looking magenta bikini. Juliana?
Before Maggie could verify the identity of this woman, M’li pulled her into the water. They swam out to sea and around the resort, before returning to shore and collecting the herbs they were after.
The return trip took a different path. Maggie walked in silence, pondering the events of the day. Was that really her old friend Juliana at the resort? How could it have been? How long had Maggie been with the Tineri anyway? And what exactly did M’li mean when she talked about “being ready” for riprasha?
“We’re here,” M’li announced as she brought Maggie to a clearing. A large deciduous tree loomed in the middle, with bushes and herbs growing on the outskirts.
“Wait here,” M’li commanded. Running to a nearby bush, M’li grabbed a handful of leaves. She chewed them for a minute, then handed the cud to Maggie. “Eat this.”
“What is it?”
“It’s ty’kio leaves. You’ll like them.”
Maggie suppressed her apprehension and did as M’li suggested. Chewing the leaves herself, she noticed a strong stickiness seeping from the mass. A minute later, her head lifted. She was stoned. After standing there stupefied for a moment, Maggie was eased to a seated position by M’li.
“They saw that ty’kio can let you see the future.”
Maggie kept chewing. The stickiness was having another effect on her—it was making her insanely horny.
“Oh my fucking God, M’li! I need you right now!”
“Yeah, they also say that ty’kio does that…” M’li responded with a smile. She lay down atop Maggie, and the Tineri women made out with vigor. M’li ran her long toenails up and down Maggie’s leg, and M’li’s nipple rings became lightly entangled with the rods running through Maggie’s tits. Before long, Maggie was panting.
“Let’s try something else,” M’li said. She turned and kneeled face down, on all fours, lifting the back flap of her loincloth and presenting her ass to Maggie.
Maggie needed no further instruction and, in a fit of passion, buried her face between M’li’s chocolate ass cheeks. Her face was enveloped by M’li’s ample rear, the cheeks pulling her into the chasm. There was no smell. The taste was slightly bitter and salty at first, then it tasted like nothing. With her tongue, she soon found M’li’s bud and licked with zeal. Her right hand reached between M’li’s legs to touch her clit. Her left hand was soon furiously rubbing her own clit.
“Shit, that’s so good… I was wondering what it felt like… to have your ass eaten out … by a white girl…” M’li pontificated between moans.
This was a gorgeous ass. There was a time when Maggie would have felt badly for someone with an ass this size—how could they fit into Dolce & Gabbana jeans?—but now, she would kill for a butt like this. Her own ass remained pale, skinny, inadequate, and unloved beneath her loincloth.
There was also a time when the butt was totally off-limits during sex. More than one boyfriend had pressured her to grant them access to her ass, but that was a redline. Of course, she used to be straight. Now, she saw what they were after. She gently penetrated M’li’s asshole with her tongue, to a sharp intake by M’li, while pressing her right thumb between M’li’s folds. Seconds later, she was simultaneously massaging M’li’s clit and G-spot while feeling around inside her anus with her tongue. Maggie was in heaven.
So was M’li. Glottal noises rang out as she came on Maggie’s fingers and tongue. Salad tossing would definitely be added to the nightly routine.
Satisfied, she eased Maggie back to let her get herself off, too. M’li offered Maggie a foot to worship while she masturbated, and Maggie, with her foot fetish, gratefully took her up on the offer. Her tongue swirled between the dusty toes and rings as she gazed longingly at her lover, sitting before her, and desperately fingered herself. Soon, she, too, came—her first orgasm as a Tineri—proclaimed to the world with a piercing scream.
“Lie back, love, and relax,” M’li told her friend as she stroked the long, blonde locks. “The ty’kio will really kick in now.”
M’li was absolutely correct. Maggie’s stoned state deepened, and she started to have visions.
She was on a bed. Her bed, from her apartment. She saw jeans and sneakers. They were on her legs? That was awful—she quickly kicked off the sneakers and pulled off the jeans and socks, revealing unbearably pale legs and feet completely bereft of jewelry.
“What are you doing, weirdo?”
Maggie answered in the clicks and hums that made up the Tineri language before realizing she should answer in English.
“Who—?”
Maggie saw that her old friend Juliana was on the other side of the bed, also wearing jeans and sneakers, her blonde hair falling to either side of her face.
“I’m asking you why you’re stripping in front of me, you freak?” Juliana asked. She was clearly joking with an old friend. However, this old friend was not amused. Maggie was Tineri now—she couldn’t dress like this any more.
“Shut up, white bitch,” Maggie heard herself say. “I’m a Tineri woman.”
Suddenly, the setting changed. Now, the girls were in M’li’s hut, on the pile of hay they used as a bed. Thankfully, Maggie’s attire had changed as well. She was now resplendent in her loincloth, though her body was still pale and unadorned.
She grabbed a nearby bowl of riprasha drink and handed it to Juliana, who was looking like a sumptuous J. Crew model. Juliana drank from the bowl, and Maggie watched all hesitation fade from her friend’s face.
“Tineri women are the most beautiful women in the world,” Maggie said.
“...yes…” Juliana agreed, the shame of not being Tineri registering.
“We have the most beautiful feet,” Maggie declared, handing Juliana a pale foot. “You may worship my foot.”
Juliana opened her mouth wide and stuck out her tongue before maneuvering the sole over it. The slow lick across Maggie’s sole culminated in Juliana inserting the big toe in her mouth. She sucked on it for a moment before removing it to concentrate on other toes, but, upon removal, the big toe was different—it now had the long toenail and band of rings favored by the Tineri women. Subsequent toes also emerged from Juliana’s mouth altered in this way, until Maggie’s toes bore all the accoutrements a Tineri woman’s toes should.
In addition, as the girl worshipped Maggie’s foot, the feet and legs darkened considerably. Each lick, each suck resulted in Maggie’s skin adopting a pigment a shade or two darker. Her feet widened at the same time. By the time Juliana had finished worshipping both feet, Maggie’s legs and feet resembled those she was now used to.
Watching the transformation occur was itself highly erotic. But, to Maggie, watching her friend—her stunning, white friend—succumb to the Tineri’s charms, as Maggie had done herself, was too much.
She needed Juliana to eat her pussy. And so, as M’li had done to her (months?) earlier, she removed her feet from her friend’s hungry maw and used the darkened, bejeweled feet to guide Juliana’s face between her legs. Juliana’s tongue touched Maggie’s clit. Moaning loudly, Maggie grabbed the huge nipple ring she discovered lodged in her left nipple. As her breathing became more and more heated, Maggie noticed her skin continue to darken. A nice tan turned into a dark olive complexion turned into, at last, smooth, creamy ebony skin. The nipple Maggie tugged grew and, all of a sudden, was attached to amazing, flopping tits.
“Yeah, white girl, eat my cunt,” Maggie told her friend, right before she passed out.
She awoke at the foot of the tree. M’li was sitting beside her, waiting for her to wake up.
Maggie looked at her legs. Disappointed, she noticed that they were white, albeit nicely bronzen.
“Let’s go back to camp,” Maggie said. “I want to get ready for riprasha.”
The ensuing weeks saw a revitalized Maggie eager—almost impatient—to become a full-fledged Tineri. Daily consumption of riprasha drink made assimilation deeply desirable and, in fact, inevitable. Eager to make her piercings permanent, she tugged on the needles as much as she could tolerate to try to make the holes bigger. As soon as she could, she switched to the largest gauge rods she could, and the process repeated. The gold chain bracelet and necklace she had been wearing—gifts from a past boyfriend—were repurposed as chains tying her nose jewelry to her earrings.
She no longer spoke English; she even thought in her adopted language. She performed her chores with enthusiasm, especially the chores that involved pleasing her friend and mentor, M’li.
M’li sung the praises of Maggie’s skill at eating pussy and worshipping feet, and that, along with Maggie’s new and improved Tineri look, led to huge demand for her “services.” Maggie was in heaven. She was going down on three or four magnificent Tineri women a day and sucking the toes of at least that many.
Still, she felt somewhat left out. She would at times be eating the pussy or sucking the toes of a Tineri woman while she kissed or ate out another. No Tineri woman had ever eaten Maggie out, sucked her toes, or even kissed her on the lips, aside from M’li. Maggie understood why—she lacked their attractive skin color and features—but surely someone would recognize and reward her effort?
On one occasion, she was eating the pussy of another woman in the tribe, A’rin. A’rin had the thickest pussy lips Maggie had ever seen. Going down on her was like sticking your face in the rows of hot dogs at 7-11, Maggie thought. Still, the allure of the nectar between A’rin’s legs was undeniable.
Maggie was happily lapping away at A’rin’s cunt when N’krzi walked in, a frown surrounded by muscles and scars. A’rin’s pitched breathing grew piqued when she noticed him standing before her. With a gesture, she directed Maggie to stop the cunnilingus and focus instead on worshipping A’rin’s left foot.
N’krzi silently took Maggie’s place between A’rin’s legs and, in the same motion, shed his loincloth. Even unaroused, he had the biggest cock Maggie had ever seen. As it neared A’rin’s genitals, it sprang to life, going from a large black sock to a small unopened umbrella in moments.
Maggie, A’rin’s foot in her mouth, could see the woman tense up in anticipation. N’krzi methodically rubbed his dick against the dark pubes Maggie had been licking. To Maggie’s amazement, the cock continued to grow, the head emerging from the foreskin in a mass of dark veins. She had never even seen an uncircumcized cock before. She had never seen a black cock before. She had never seen a cock she wanted inside her more.
N’krzi, satisfied that A’rin was sufficiently wet, slowly began to penetrate her. A’rin’s big brown eyes opened wide and her large nostrils flared. As N’krzi sped up his thrusting, the noises coming out of A’rin’s mouth began to sound progressively less human and more like an animal consumed entirely with the act of mating. The toes in Maggie’s mouth curled. Maggie had literally never seen someone experience pleasure of this magnitude.
“Yep, I’m going to fuck this dude,” Maggie thought to herself.
Minutes later, A’rin was screaming in mind-blowing orgasm, digging her long toenails into the inside of Maggie’s mouth. N’krzi began to remove himself from her, apparently intending not to finish inside her. The instant that glorious cock was free of A’rin’s cunt, Maggie dropped her foot and began to fellate the tribesman. Never had she enjoyed giving blow jobs—her boyfriend Gryphon had once dumped her during a trip to Aspen because she refused to suck him off—but that was before she was Tineri. Now, her mouth, hands, hell—her entire body, were all dedicated to the task of getting this huge cock off, preferably, inside of her.
But N’krzi forcefully removed her from his dick, allowing A’rin to collect his seed in her mouth and on her chest. He put his loincloth back on and left.
Maggie, confused, horny, and jealous, followed him out of the hut, her bare feet stepping through the ashes of the extinguished fire at the center of the clearing. “N’krzi! What was that?”
N’krzi kept walking, with Maggie struggled to keep up with his gait.
“You know, I’ve never been rejected like that before, you bastard.”
N’krzi continued walking without so much as a glance of acknowledgement.
“You just slip into A’rin’s hut while we’re having sex and shove me aside, then you actually shove me aside when I try to get some too?”
N’krzi turned. “I’m sorry, white girl.” He paused, struggling for words, before simply saying, “I don’t find you attractive.”
The words “white girl” stung. Yes, her skin was white, but the piercings in her face and breasts, as well as the loincloth, were pure Tineri. Her needs, too, were pure Tineri.
“Because I’m white?”
“Because you’re not Tineri.”
Would she ever be? The riprasha was, as Maggie understood it, the ceremony to mark her formal inclusion in the tribe, but that was weeks away.
Crestfallen, Maggie was reduced to begging. “Please help me.”
Her furtive motions at N’Krzi’s loincloth were rebuffed, but he took pity on her. “Yes, I will help you.”
Maggie’s heart soared. “Will you fuck me?”
“No,” his wide nostrils flared. “You are still not Tineri. But I can, I suppose, make you more … presentable.”
That was music to Maggie’s ears. “Yes! Anything!”
“It will be excruciatingly painful.”
Maggie had gotten used to the painful nature of the Tineri modifications and figured there was nothing she couldn’t handle. “That’s fine,” she whispered.
“You’ll never be the same old white girl.”
“I’m Tineri now,” Maggie said, brandishing her nose piercings.
“Yes, but piercings can be removed. What I will do to you cannot be undone.”
“I don’t want it to be undone—I want to be Tineri!”
“Good,” was the response. N’krzi brought Maggie back to the fireplace in the middle of the encampment and began to rub sticks together.
“What is he doing?” Maggie wondered.
N’krzi had soon made a small fire. Into it, he plunged a blade that was tied to his waist. Before long, it was glowing hot.
“This will disinfect the knife,” he said as he deposited the knife in a basin of water. “Come. Sit.”
Maggie sat before him, cross-legged on the ground. He rubbed some paste on her left arm. Maggie recognized the paste as fl’upsli, the same antiseptic treatment she had undergone prior to getting pierced.
Then, she felt the blade slice into her arm. Just a superficial cut, but N’krzi dragged the blade down the length of the limb, zigging and zagging as he went. He wiped the blood off and repeated the process, until Maggie’s arm was covered in cuts.
“I am impressed,” N’krzi told her. “No tears, no screams—maybe we will make a Tineri out of you yet.”
With that, and without warning, N’krzi began to flay the skin in between the cuts, skinning Maggie’s arm. The pain was, as advertised, excruciating. Tears welled in Maggie’s eyes, and she grabbed some loose, nearby bark and bit down to ease her suffering. Still, she maintained her steely resolve and did not flinch her arm as N’krzi carved.
Soon enough, N’krzi removed the offending strips of skin and dabbed the blood away. The flesh of Maggie’s arm now bore a fairly intricate design of swirls and lines. Looking at N’krzi’s own scarred arms and torso, she realized that she, too, would bear these tribal marks. Painful or not, she loved them.
“Now, Maggie, you must rub this w’siri paste into the cuts daily, or they may get infected or heal somewhat,” N’krzi said, handing her a small container. “You should also—”
Maggie cut him off. “More.”
“Eh?”
“This isn’t enough. Mark me again.” Her zeal for tribal modifications would not be denied.
“I think that is enough for now, Maggie. We can talk again in the future.”
“No, we do this now!” Maggie took N’krzi’s hand, still gripping the knife, to the side of her face. N’krzi understood and began to carve.