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Pal Pot

PAL POT by Menagerie

Tina glared at Gina. Gina glared back.
“This is all your fault!” snapped Tina.
“Is not!” Gina retorted.
“Is too!” said the other girl.
The two naked girls were sitting, face to face, in a huge, iron pot, up to their
breasts in water. Logs were starting to blaze under the pot; the water was
slowly warming. Both women had their hands and feet tied; they struggled, the
water splashing, as they hurled accusations at each other.
“You got us into this, Tina,” said Gina, straining as she tried to bring her
hands, tied behind her back, around her body.
Tina was trying to work her long legs free. “No, I didn't. If you hadn't come up
with that stupid vacation idea...”
The two young executives were in the middle of a so-so marketing year; they
decided to go on a fancy vacation, anyway, and settled on Rio. Gina, the svelte,
gorgeous, big-bosomed brunette, insisted to the statuesque Tina that a trip to
Rio in the middle of the winter was doable.
“On our budget?” cried the exasperated Tina.
“I know this guy,” Gina insisted. “He says he can work us a real deal, if we'll
go along with some stops along the way...”
The guy, needless to say, wasn't on the up and up. One of the stops was in the
middle of a Brazilian rain forest. “Just wait here for me,” he said, shooing the
women out of his plane in the middle of nowhere. “I'll go to the town to the
east to refuel, and be right back.”
“Why can't we come along?” demanded Tina. He smirked. “Business is business; I
have to be alone. Don't worry; it'll only take a minute.”
The minute stretched into an hour, then half a day. The girls, dressed in
colorful tourist outfits, couldn't plunge into the jungle to look for him. “He
said east,” Gina said finally. “Let's go that way.”
Tina was doubtful. “I think we should wait. We don't know anything about this
“We're Americans,” Gina stressed. “What could happen?”
It was getting dark, and the two businesswomen's arguments were getting louder.
“I told you we should have stayed,” lectured Tina. “He probably went right back
for us--”
“He wasn't coming back,” retorted Gina, picking her way through vines and
underbrush. “I'll bet something happened to him--”
“Some deal!” Tina shrilled, waving away insects buzzing around her face. “I
should never have listened--”
“Well, you wanted to come, too--”
“Well, we couldn't have afforded--”
“Well, you should have--”
Gina suddenly shrieked. As Tina watched, a tree branch snapped up, and Gina
suddenly found herself dangling by one slim ankle, twelve feet above the ground.
“Gina! You stepped in a trap!”
“Oh, really?” wailed the brunette, swaying as she tried to reach out for nearby
branches. “Get me down from here!”
“I can't climb up there!” said the tall girl. “I'll have to go get--”
Tina suddenly yelped; the ground underneath her had given way, and she found
herself twelve feet below the ground, in a pit.
“Tina!” Gina screeched. “Where are you!”
“Down here,” she yelled. “I'm in a trap, too. There must be local hunters
around. Let's call for help.”
The two of them burst into screaming. “Please! Help us! Rescue us!”
They kept up the cacophony for a good half-hour; then, as Tina's voice was
giving out, a curious face peered down on her from the lip of the pit.
“Oh, thank God!” she rasped. “Gina! Somebody's here!”
“I know,” Gina called down. “There's lots of 'em.”
There were, in fact, four natives brandishing spears and bows, dressed in
loincloths and camouflage paint. One of them lowered a rope to Tina; the other
climbed the tree and cut Gina down.
“Ooft,” she grunted as she crashed to the soft jungle floor; the natives let out
belly laughs, and continued to observe the two shapely white women closely.
“You think they can tell us where we can rent a car or something?” wondered
“Of course,” said Tina. “We're Americans. Now,” she said, turning to the
tribesmen, “take us to your village.”
The four consulted in an Indian tongue; the biggest of them looked up sternly
and gestured toward a dimly lit path in the darkness. The girls looked at each
other, shrugged, and headed down the path.
When they arrived, the village exploded into activity. Children ran up to them
excitedly; the women sized them up. Gina and Tina were bewildered by all the
interest. Grinning, the hunters called out; a large man in colorful garb emerged
from a hut, and did a double take when he saw the women.
“This must be the chief,” said Gina, and raced up to him. “We're Americans,
chief,” she said, breathlessly. “Can you get us a phone, or a car, or something?
We're lost!”
At first, the chief didn't respond. Tina walked up next to her. “Gina...I don't
think he understands English. And I don't think he has a phone, either.”
The village was deathly still, for just a moment. Then, the chief shouted out an
order, and clapped his hands.
Within seconds, Gina and Tina found themselves surrounded by warriors armed with
spears, pointed right at their throats.
They swallowed. “Gina!” Tina squeaked. “What are we gonna do?” Gina didn't
answer; her dark, pretty eyes darted fearfully from one stone-faced tribesman to
the next.
The chief gave another command, and the girls suddenly found themselves being
stripped naked. The tribe's women pulled off their shoes and socks, their pants,
their blouses; when they started to struggle, the spears moved ever closer.
Helplessly, they watched as their undergarments came off. Gina's huge breasts
bounced free; the men fingered them in fascination as she looked frantically
around, her eyes wide in terror. Other tribesmen ran their hands along Tina's
long, lanky legs and buttocks; one turned to the other and uttered what sounded
like a joke, and as a horrified Tina watched, the other man laughed crudely and
rubbed his stomach.
With another order from the head man, the womens' wrists were tied behind their
backs. Then, as a great shout came up from the tribe, the nude young women were
marched at spearpoint toward a clearing behind the huts.
Gina and Tina were each tethered by their necks to stakes in the ground; the
three foot ropes didn't allow them to stand fully upright, so they sat on the
ground, their bare butts cooled by the dewy grasses of the Amazon basin. All of
the tribal people left save one guard, who watched them balefully. Tears were in
Gina's eyes. “Tina...he's gonna rape us,” she whispered.
“Why are you whispering?” Tina demanded. “They don't speak English.” The guard
continued to glare. “He doesn't act like he's gonna rape us. He's just watching
us.” She folded her long legs under her as comfortably as she could. “Maybe
they're just gonna hold us for ransom; the company will get us out of it.”
“And how do they know what our company is?” Gina demanded.
“They've got our clothes, stupid, with our ID's. Just relax; we'll figure a way
Gina couldn't relax. “Hey, mister!” she called to the guard, flipping her long,
dark hair as breezily as she could, considering she was nude and fettered by the
wrists and neck. “I've gotta go to the bathroom! Could you take me to the john?”
He just stared, a hard look on his face. Tina said, “Gina, if you gotta go, you
gotta go.”
Gina struggled to her feet; she balanced on her tiptoes and squatted.
“Tina...don't look.”
Two days passed. The guards changed; the girls weren't moved. They didn't get
any food or water, and were parched in the hot equatorial sun. “Why won't they
give us anything to drink?” said Tina, weakly; the girls were lying on their
backs, their breasts and bellies browning in the mid-day heat.
Abruptly, the original hunters arrived along with four women, all of them
carrying bowls of herbs and vegetables. “This is it, Tina!” gasped Gina.
“They're finally gonna feed us!” The naked girls struggled to a sitting
Two of the hunters grabbed Gina; one picked the squealing brunette up while the
other grabbed her slender, firm legs. She frantically kicked her bare feet, but
the warrior crossed her ankles and tied them securely to her lower calves with a
strand of hemp, dropping her on the ground sitting in a lotus position.
“Hey!” cried Tina as she was subjected to the same binding. Then, the men cut
their neck tethers and carried them, struggling and crying, over their
shoulders, with the women following obediently behind.
When the men reached their destination, the girls were dumped unceremoniously to
the ground. Tina and Gina rolled over, and gasped in horror. They were back in
the main part of the village; a large pot was standing there, half filled with
water, smoldering fagots underneath. “Tina,” Gina breathed, “they're gonna stick
us in there!”
They twisted in their ropes, sobbing; the tribeswomen pulled out a machete and
two large plantains. Diligently, one of them began dry-shaving the fur from
Tina's snatch. She yelped as the blade nicked her in a half-dozen spots. When
the native woman was satisfied, she turned her attention to Gina, who was
staring at her and shivering on her back, her fur pie standing out invitingly
between her bound legs.
Meanwhile, another native took one of the plantains, coated it in cocoa butter,
and rammed it up Tina's vagina in a strong, practiced move. Tina gasped in pain
as the reddish, banana-shaped fruit entered her. Satisfied, the woman flipped
Tina over and examined her smooth, shapely buttocks. She then took from her
basket a long, narrow yam, and plunged it into Tina's anus.
Tina's eyes grew like saucers; her mouth formed an O from the double violations.
A third native took a cloth and scrubbed away the dirt she'd picked up from
flopping around on the ground; then, another took a handful of herbs and began
rubbing them into her skin. The pungent smell of garlic and basil invaded her
nostrils, and Tina realized--they were seasoning her! She heard Gina's agonized
howls, and knew she was getting the same treatment.
After she'd been “flavored” from head to toes, Tina felt strong hands grip her
and lift her straight up. She came down in the pot; moments later, so did Gina.
The natives departed; the two girls, alone, naked and bound, looked at each
other for a moment. Then came the argument.
“If you hadn't walked away--”
“If you hadn't asked for a phone--”
“Who knew about this?”
“Well, you should have planned better--”
“This thing in my butt hurts!”
“What about the thing up my--?”
The water was getting warmer. Sweat ran down their faces; it dripped down their
chests and hung in droplets from their nipples. They became vaguely aware of the
aroma of the spices. The pot wasn't quite big enough for two full-grown,
well-developed women; Gina's shins were resting on the taller girl's thighs, and
the fruit shoved up her vagina brushed Tina's belly. “Maybe I can untie your
legs,” said Tina, ducking her head under the water; she came up a couple of
seconds later, sputtering. In the distance, the frightened girls heard some of
the villagers laughing; they'd been watching the whole thing.
“I'll try to turn around,” said Gina, “and you can get my hands with your
teeth.” She started to squirm, her plump bottom rubbing against Tina's ample
thighs. She worked her way to a quarter turn...then lost her balance and fell
over into the broth. “Ow!” she shouted, banging her head on the side of the iron
pot. More laughter.
A tribesman showed up, holding a sack. “Listen!” cried Tina, as the coughing,
gasping Gina sat back upright, “You've got to let us go! We'll do whatever you
He looked back and forth at the sweltering, desperate women...then shrugged and
poured his sack of onions and potatoes into the steaming water. He started to
walk away but paused, and ran a rough finger along the cringing Gina's bare skin
from her shoulder to the tip of her firm, tender breast. Popping the finger in
his mouth and sucking to enjoy her flavor, he nodded, smacked his lips and
departed, chuckling.
“This isn't working, Gina!” Tina cried out. “You've got to find a way to get us out of this!”
“I do?” shouted Gina. “You got us into it!”
“Did not!”
“Did too!” The water was starting to boil. A slice of onion hung from Tina's
breast; Gina's sported a cluster of herbs.
“If you hadn't--”
“Well, I didn't--”
A glum looking tribeswoman stood next to the pot. The two helpless, nude girls
looked up. “Well, will you help us?” Tina demanded to know.
She responded by holding up two large, underripe mangoes, and stuffed one in
Tina's mouth, and the other in Gina's. Then she walked away.
The girls whined through the fruits. “Umph, umph,” mumbled Tina, choking on the
huge fruit. Gina just looked at her, tears dripping from her eyes and splashing
on the mango. Two days earlier, they had been savvy, big city business women;
now, they were nude, hogtied, garnished with vegetables and boiling in a pot for
an Amazon tribe's dinner! Their struggles against their bonds became feverish;
steam rose from the churning soup as Tina and Gina fought the ropes. Their skin
was reddening in the roiling stew; their flesh screamed in pain...
Dusk. Oil lanterns were burning throughout the village. In the center of the
clearing, where the pot had been, many tables were standing, set with pottery
and knives. The natives came to their places excitedly buzzing. They had not had
a tribal feast in a long time. 
Before them were tureens of broth--the liquor of the pot, flavored with the two
girls' flesh. They slurped it down eagerly. Vegetables from the pot were in huge
bowls. A platter held two plantains and two yams; the tribesman nudged each
other, giggling--they knew where the starchy produce had been.
At the far ends of the tables sat the chief and the lead hunter. The chief stood; he banged a long, sharp knife on his plate. Four tribesmen arrived, carrying a large platter.
On the platter was Tina. She had been attractively arranged, her long, luscious legs curled under her, the mango still filling her mouth. Her skin was red, the flesh underneath grown plump in the boiling water. Her belly had been split open, the entrails removed. She was surrounded by more of the vegetables cooked
with her and Gina in the pot.
The chief removed a large machete from his belt and began to carve the woman's carcass. He started with her back; Tina's loins, pale, pink and flavorful, were cut into chops and presented to the tribe's elders. With a lengthwise slit, the well-done meat of her thighs slid right off the bones and plopped invitingly onto a platter, to be carved into ham steaks. Some expert cuts, and boneless ribs were presented to the appreciative villagers. Drumsticks, the feet still attached, were claimed by two of the chief's nephews; gripping the woman's long, lean lower legs by her plump ankles, the young men sank their teeth into the fleshy calves.
At the other end of the table, Gina was being similarly butchered. Her large breasts, a special delicacy, were reserved for the hunting party. A cut around her waist, and another across her crotch, and the meat came off as a saddle, buttocks on one side, crotch on the other.
As the tribe devoured the two girls' meat with great gusto, the chief motioned to the lead hunter, who ambled to the other side of the tables. The chief pointed to a slab of Tina's tender flesh, cut a slice, and offered it to the
huntsman, who gratefully accepted it.
The chief then said, in perfect English, “I would say Tina's meat is tastier
than Gina's.”
The hunter's dark eyes twinkled. “Is not!”
“Is too!” responded the chief, and the two roared with laughter...and as the
rest of the tribe joined them...
...Inside one of the huts, a telephone began to ring.

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