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THE RAIN FOREST by ZOLNITSKI

Twenty year old Casey Flynn had finally gotten the job he had dreamed of since he was a kid. He was a pilot now flying supplies from the airport in Port Moresby in Papua to Manokwari, the capitol of West Papua, New Guinea. New Guinea was an exciting place to be. Casey had come from a dull small town in the Midwest USA looking for adventure. Things were going right and he was riding on top of the world. Great adventures lay just ahead. Plus, he was what you might call a strikingly attractive young man with a winning charm and wit about him that people could seldom resist. His face was fresh with bright brown eyes and a quick smile that showed off his perfect white teeth. His eyes, short brown hair and silky, smooth skin came from his mother who was of Polish descent. The family of his Irish father, Dan Flynn had come to America more than 100 years ago. Casey was freshly showered, shaved and shampooed squeaky clean. He said to himself many times, “Casey, you sexy devil you.”
Although he was highly extroverted, people didn’t seem to mind. In fact most people seemed to like his self-assured confidence. Actually he had inherited the best features of both his parents.

Casey stood naked in front of the full-length mirror and flexed his bicep then smiled to himself. He had nothing to be embarrassed about concerning his 5 ft. 9 - 155 lb. fit body even though he would like to have been taller. He sprayed his favorite sweet spice smelling deodorant under his armpits, on his chest, arms and legs, smiled and then generously sprayed his belly button and pubes. He put on his favorite black silk boxer shorts, blue jeans and his wide black garrison belt. He sat on the edge of his bed, picked up his black all leather paratroop boots with the military shine and gave each of them a shot inside with his deodorant and took a sniff. The leather and spice deodorant smelled good as he put on the boots. He put on his leather flight jacket that said, “STRONG’S FLYING SERVICE” on the back and had a picture of his plane under the lettering. The jacket was new and he loved the smell, feel, and crunchy sound it made as he moved. He even put his tongue against the sleeve to taste the new leather. He felt cocky as he looked in the mirror again. He looked at the seat of his jeans. He liked the way they fit across his well-rounded butt and displayed the bold orange stitching around the fly. He gave himself a thumbs-up. He looked sexy and he knew it. “I wish the girls back home could see me now.” He thought to himself as he practiced his swagger in front of his mirror. His hand instinctively moved down to the fly of his jeans to feel the warming sensation of his engorged member. “Dang I’m horny” he thought to himself and smiled into the mirror again.

He liked to wear the jacket shirtless in front of the mirror; he zipped it up to his belly button then pushed the sleeves up on his forearms. The coolness of the luxurious satin lining against his skin and the smell of the leather worked like an erotic enhancing drug on him. He stood before his mirror and pulled his erected penis from its fly, then pulled the ample foreskin back to reveal a rosy pink cock head. With his middle finger he tickled the little dimple under the head until he felt the warmth of sperm gathering for a discharge. His hand then cupped the end of the penis, which he massaged back and forth until his man juice came surging forth into his hand. He felt a sensation of total ecstasy as it pulsed once, twice, three times, four times, ahh, five times and more, then slowed to a dripping. He knew it made no sense but it was so pleasurable and he had done it since he was a kid masturbating with the neighbor boys back home.

Well it was time to get serious so he took off the jacket, put on and a blue tee shirt that said, “STRONG’S FLYING SERVICE” on the pocket. He put the jacket on again, looked in the mirror once more, he liked his look and went out the door. Soon he was off to the airport to pick up his load of supplies for a small medical center in a jungle clearing near Manokwari. When Casey arrived he found that his plane was already checked out and loaded. “Wow, this is going to be a great day,” he thought to himself as he filed his flight plan and took one last trip to the john before leaving the airport. After exchanging a few laughs and a few jokes with the ground crew he climbed into the cockpit. Sam the ground crew boss smiled an affectionate, grandfatherly smile and shook his head warning him, “Now none of your war games today, you hear? This old crate won’t take it. You’re gona end up strung all over the jungle some day. This old timer is no P-40.” Casey winked a smile back and said, “Ah Sam, you just wish you were me.” Sam thought the world of Casey and thought of him as a son. Sam nodded and returning the smile, said, “That I do Lad, that I do, I surely do” Casey shouted over the roar of the engine. “Actually, Sam, I’m more afraid of never having lived than of dying.” He gave a wave to Sam and the rest of the ground crew and prepared to take off.

Soon an aging1967 Cessna 210 Turbo was taking off down the runway.
Before long Casey was soaring over a vast rain forest that stretched over hundreds of miles of untracked wilderness, rivers and unknown dangers. New Guinea is the world’s second largest island after Greenland and has the largest rainforest area remaining in the Pacific Rim. New Guinea is truly the land of the beautiful unexpected. There were tribes below him that had never seen a white man or knew of the white man’s ways. Some tribes were said to be cannibalistic and knew nothing of the world outside their immediate surroundings. What could be more terrifying than to meet up with a tribe of cannibal warriors? On the other hand what could be more exciting? He had always loved stories about adventurers who had escaped the clutches of bloodthirsty cannibals and those who had not. As a boy he had read “ROBINSON CRUSOE” and the adventures of Hans Staden while he was a captive of cannibals. He always got a warm tingly erection just reading about men eating men. Not only had the natives never seen a white man, they had never seen clothing nor shoes. He had talked to adventurers who had traveled into the interior and seen the natives living in rude grass and reed huts. They had seen the wild animals, birds and reptiles they used for food.

The thought came back into his mind again. That would just have to be the great adventure of a lifetime. Could there still be tribes so savage in the 21st century?
He had been assured by men who had seen the native tribes in the dark steamy jungle that yes, such tribes were there in the wet, rain soaked, disease and insect infested jungle.

Now Casey was coming to love the rain forest more and more. His heart pounded with excitement every time his plane lifted off the runway and soared over the green carpet of forest that stretched out endlessly before him. There was a vast wilderness area below him that remained untouched by the influence of the industrial age. He had ventured into the jungle a few times. He had seen endless tracts of the most biologically diverse forest in the world. The forest was home to a vast array of species found nowhere else on the globe.

As he flew over the remote Nakanai Mountains he saw more small clearings inhabited by tribes barely touched by 21st century. There were no roads or trails through the dense and impenetrable jungle. There were no landing strips and few boats ever ventured up the rivers so the tribes were mostly cut off from all civilization. There were mangrove forests, lowland rainforests, and alpine vegetation on the mountains; there were grasslands and savanna woodlands. There were swift and wild rivers in miles deep gorges and swamps that contained some of the world’s largest specie of crocodiles. It was an ancient land where humankind had lived for 50,000 years. To Casey it all bore an erotic attraction.

Now he was flying over the Memberamo River, the largest in all of New Guinea.
Soon he was over West Papua and could see the Ndeiram River snaking through the never-ending carpet that looked like green moss. From 10,000 feet it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. It stretched out like green moss before him.
Casey glanced at the instrument panel. Everything looked all right but he seemed to hear a faint knocking in the engine. It would have to be checked out before his return trip.
It seemed cool now in the cockpit at this altitude so he zipped up his jacket.
A strange, dark and mysterious country lay below him and yet it was so beautiful that it always lured him closer. He didn’t know if he would ever want to leave this country and its forests he had come to love so much. He reached down and felt the ample bulge under the fly of his jeans. He put his hand up under his flight jacket and shirt. He fingered his chest and bellybutton. It seemed he was always horny these days, even while he was flying.

Just being up in the aged Cessna was an adventure. One of Casey’s fantasies was pretending to be a World War II U.S. fighter pilot Ace. In some ways he was still the boy that had never quite grown up. He loved to soar into the clouds and dive as he imagined a Japanese Zero below him. He would make the sound of a machine gun as he dived. Tatta, Tatta, Tatta, Tat, Tat, Tat. Then he would shout to himself, “Watch out Flynn, there’s one coming at you from twelve o’clock high.” “Gain altitude Flynn, he’s right on your tail.” He took the plane up fast as he could. It almost stalled but Casey got it under control. He rolled over and imagined he was above the Zero again. In his imaginative boy like mind, he was in the greatest dogfight of the Pacific Theater. It was a battle for the Marianna Islands. He was diving again at the Zero, Tatta, Tatta, Tatta, Tat, Tat, Tat. He imagined another Zero going down in flames. There was another one coming in on him. He rolled to the left and went into a dive. The Zero followed him. He shot up into the sun. He made a loop and came down gunning again and the Zero burst into flames. Casey loved his pretend war games more than anything. He knew it was foolish, childish and immature on his part but he didn’t care. It made him feel alive as the adrenaline surged through his young body. Old Sam really did wish he could be him up there in the clouds. He hadn’t lived for so many years he had no idea what it was like to be Casey. Yet, he knew he should listen to the experienced maintenance man.

Casey loved adventure and wished he had lived during the Second World War and could have been a fighter pilot. For the moment he was Gregory (Pappy) Boyington in his f4U Corsair. His greatest ambition was to someday have an opportunity to pilot a Corsair just once. Although there were 12,500 at one time he had read recently that now there are less than 30 with only 10-15 of them flyable. There had only been seven of them at the Gathering of Corsair & Legends Reunion in Indianapolis last year. If he were ever going to pilot one, it had to be soon. He had always loved things that scared him and made his heart pound. As a kid he always liked to take the wildest rides at the county fair. He loved walking down a dark alley in the middle of the night, imagining all manner of monsters stalking him. He would dive off the highest diving board at the pool. He loved motorcycles, stock car racing and skydiving. His theory was that until a person has been scared to the point of passing his water, he has never really been alive. There has to be a point where you struggle in terror and fight for life and you will never fully appreciate life until you have reached that point. He felt some kind of strange emotional connection between fear and eroticism that constantly beckoned to him.

He shot the plane nearly straight up to twenty thousand feet; he took the plane higher than it had ever been. The frigid air was so thin he could hardly breathe. He checked his altitude again. He did another loop and then a roll followed by a dive and leveled off at eighteen thousand feet. There it was again, a kind of knocking sound from the engine. Not too loud though. Casey flew on, mesmerized by the wonder of the rain forest below him.

Suddenly a loud, explosion in the engine brought Casey to full attention. “What the heck was that?” he muttered under his breath. The prop seemed to be vibrating and shaking the plane. Warning lights were flashing and he smelled hot oil. The next thing he saw was oil splashing on the wings of the plane and on the cockpit window. “What the devil is happening?” This time he spoke out loud. The propeller shook violently and then stopped turning. The engine was sputtering but he had no power. He checked his altitude and he was dropping to 9,000 feet. He was gliding. He tried to lift up the nose of the plane. He was dropping fast- 8,000, now 7,000 feet. He continued to lose altitude.
He tried the engine again. He got a few sputters and coughs. He still had no propeller.
He was dropping too fast. He glanced at his altitude again. It said 3,000 feet.

He kept saying to himself, “Don’t panic, you can handle this. Stay calm.” The gage said, 1,000 feet. The forest below was coming up fast to meet him. If he could only get the nose up perhaps he would see a clearing where he could land. He was dropping faster now and still gliding but there was no landing place. He passed over a small clearing of rude native huts and people below him. Now he was barely over the treetops. The trees were giants that spread their canopy over miles of wilderness. It seemed that he could almost land on the tops of the trees they were so thick. He skimmed quite a distance over the forest desperately trying to keep the nose up. Then he was down. His plane skimmed over the canopy of treetops. He couldn’t keep it up any longer. The belly of the plane was gliding over the uppermost floor of the forest canopy. Casey braced himself as the nose began to go down. Suddenly the left wing tore loose from the fuselage leaving a gapping hole beside him. The weight of the plane shifted to the right and the other wing was pulling the plane toward the ground. The plane stopped and hung in the tree long enough to slow down the fall. It hung suspended for a minute or two then started falling again. There was a sound of tearing metal and shattering glass as the plane hit the ground. Casey sat there bewildered for a moment. “Just keep cool,” he told himself. “You’re not hurt”

He pulled out his smart phone and tried to reach the airport he had just left. There was no reception. He tried sending a text message but it went nowhere. The phone was worthless to him. Casey muttered to himself as he crawled out of the broken wreck to look around. Casey accused himself, “Casey you stupid, stupid, stupid, now you’ve really done it. Sam warned you “No war games and did you listen to him? Oh no you had to be a hot-shot and now here you sit. Well they say, ‘Any landing you can walk away from is a good one.” Nevertheless, some dread and a little fear began to creep over him.

The jungle growth was so thick around him that he could see nothing but a tangle of vines, giant leafed plants and trees that reached up to the sky. A troop of monkeys were scolding him, for disrupting their peaceful mid morning naps. He had no idea where he was but thought he could hear a river flowing nearby. But what river was it and what difference did it make. He didn’t know which way to start walking. Perhaps he could find his way back to the village he had seen and perhaps he could at least get some kind of direction there.

On the other hand perhaps it was best to stay near the plane in case rescue planes were sent out to look for him. But then a rescue plane would never see him in this tangled mass of vegetation. As he sat on the ground thinking what course of action to take, it seemed to him that if he were not rescued by tomorrow, the best thing to do was to try to find the river. If he followed the river there was a good chance that he might find a village. But which way should he go, up stream or down stream? He had lost all sense of direction.

The morning wore on and turned into noon. Hunger began to gnaw at his stomach and he remembered a chocolate bar under the seat of the plane. He retrieved the bar and ate it, wondering if and when he would get more food or if he would ever be found. It was starting to rain a warm steamy rain that became a downpour. He climbed up into the ruined cockpit glad to get some shelter. The rain leaked in on him and brought on the ever-incessant stinging insects that tried to suck out every drop of his blood. After an hour of being bent like a pretzel in the mangled plane he decided not to stay there over night.

What to do now was the question. He elected to head in the direction in which he thought he could hear the river. He would need to get some kind of survival pack together. Inside the plane he found a pkt. of ketchup and a map, which meant nothing to him at that stage. There was a double bladed hunting knife. Perhaps he could use it to hack out a trail if he could find one, which he could not.

He was breaking a stick to use for pushing aside jungle growth when he suddenly felt as though he were being watched. Was it some dangerous animal like a crocodile or
Wild boar? He hoped it was friendly, whatever it was.

Suddenly he made out about four young men coming cautiously near him. They wore necklaces, earrings and nose ornaments made of bone, wood and shells. Other than that they were naked except for penis gourds. They approached cautiously and slowly with bows and spears drawn. Casey dropped the stick, raised his hands and said smilingly, “Whoa, whoa, I’m no enemy. I’m a friend who needs some help.” He turned on his most winning smile. It had gotten him out of a lot of jams in his short life. The natives came closer, with their bows still drawn. They seemed to be talking about Casey but there was no telling what they were saying. Casey turned on his most charming smile again and extended his hand in friendship. He said, over and over, “I’m a friend, I’m a friend I’m a friend.”

Casey felt a degree of comfort in that at least he was in the company of some human beings. Finally, a young warrior who seemed to be the leader stepped forward to examine Casey more closely. He had never seen a white man before. He reached out and touched the brown hair and pressed his finger into Casey’s cheek. He had never seen clothes before and felt the leather of Casey’s flight jacket. He tugged on Casey’s jeans and marveled to his companions that the gods must have sent this strange being from the sky. They had seen the great birds flying far above the clouds and wondered at the vapor trails that followed them. Now one of the great birds they had seen many times had fallen near their village and died there among the trees leaving this creature from another world. But what were they to think of this strange being? To their thinking they were the only humans in the world. A stranger was a non human being no matter how much he might look like them. This stranger looked nothing like them and was obviously rare and to be highly prized
.
The leader of the warriors seemed to be called Nango. He appeared to be the oldest, perhaps twenty-five or thirty years old but it was hard to tell. His skin was as black as ebony; he had fine features and was powerfully built. He didn’t have a particularly frightening appearance about him. Casey could tell that he was very strong and was a natural leader. They seemed to be having a conference among them and when they finished one of the younger warriors came rushing at Casey with a spear intending to run him through. The one called Nango stopped the wild-eyed youth and knocked him to the ground. He angrily addressed the group and they seemed to back off in shame. He gave them some orders and they quickly took Casey roughly by the shoulder and pushed him in the direction of the sound of the river.

After they had thrashed through the jungle about an eighth of a mile, according to Casey’s calculations they came to a forest trail. They proceeded down the trail pushing and shoving Casey. Casey hoped they were going to be a little friendlier when they got to where ever they were going. The one called Nango seemed to be less brutal and chastised one of the younger warriors when he started to hit Casey over the head with his spear. When the young warrior came back and threatened to strike Casey again Nango struck the youth and knocked him to the ground. He stood over him and angrily spoke to him with his fist raised. Casey could not understand a word his supposed benefactor was saying but Nango was shouting at the young warrior saying. “We don’t know where this being came from. We don’t know if he is a god or if the gods have sent him as a gift. Until we find out you leave him alone.”

Nango looked at the captive and asked straight out, “Are you a god or have you been sent by a god?” Casey had no idea what his captor had said. He shrugged his shoulders, raised the palms of his hands to show that he didn’t understand. Nango asked him again. “Are you a god or a gift from a god?” Casey could tell by the inflection in Nango’s voice that he had been asked a question. Perhaps he was asking his name. He hesitantly pointed to himself and replied, “Casey.” Nango looked puzzled and said, “Kahsi, are you a god named Kahsi?” He recognized that Kahsi was not exactly the way his captive had pronounced it but it was close enough. Nango was thinking, “This captive is the most beautiful being I have ever seen. Am I to worship him because he is a god, or treat him as a prisoner of war?” There was no doubt that by this time he considered Casey to be his own private property. He really wanted a captive more than he wanted a god. Maybe this pretty being could be his own personal possession or his pet. But then eventually he would be able to tell if he had found a god or was it some strange creature, somewhat resembling a human? If he is not a god, then perhaps the gods have only sent us some magnificent gift for the cooking pot.

He certainly was nothing like any captive they had ever taken from another tribe.
This being, with the strange coverings on his body, smelled so good. Nango came closer again to smell the deodorant on Casey’s body and clothing. What kind of creature was this that had such a pleasant aroma and light skin? Did he have light skin under the covering of clothing he wore? They had never seen foot wear and the strange being’s boots were of keen interest to them. Did they come off or were they actually feet?

The group moved on with Casey until they came to a small clearing. They sat under a large tree where they were scolded by colorful red, blue and green birds.
One young warrior shinnied up a tree as easily as he would have climbed a ladder.
Soon a large clump of small, starchy, green banana shaped fruit fell to the ground followed quickly by another. Another young warrior handed Casey several of the small, strange, green, starchy fruits. He was now driven by hunger as he gratefully accepted and ate them ravenously.

After resting a few minutes Nango ordered the group to move on.
Sometimes the jungle was so dense it had to be hacked down with their machete like fire hardened bamboo knives in order to clear enough trail to walk. Sometimes they came to well-worn paths that had been tramped down by warriors for a thousand years. They followed one such path for a couple of miles until they came to a raging rain-swollen river. They retrieved a canoe from its hiding place under a thicket of tall giant leaved bushes. There seemed to be some discussion and disagreement as to whether to try navigating the swift water.

Then as was his custom, Nango took charge of the situation and ordered them all into the canoe. Three of the warriors climbed into the front of the canoe then Casey was motioned in and Nango sat at the end behind him. They were quickly swept into the current and the warriors paddled furiously to keep from hitting floating logs and debris all swept along with them. There were jagged rocks in the river and low hanging tree limbs over the water. Now they were being swept into the middle of the raging river. The young warriors fought desperately to keep their craft from turning sideways and rolling over. It would have meant certain death had they been thrown into the churning waters. The swift current swept them several miles down river as Casey hung onto the sides of the canoe for dear life. The riverbank rushed past them like a video being fast-forwarded. Time after time, Casey was sure they would be dashed against the rocks jutting out of the water. On they went until one of the young warriors in the front shouted and pointed to a spot where the river was going to make a quick turn. They all paddled with every ounce of their strength toward land. Casey was amazed at the expertise of the river travelers. By the time they reached the side of the river they were swiftly approaching what appeared to be a landing place. They pulled up to the muddy bank and Casey was motioned to get out.

Almost instantly a dozen or so of naked tribesmen were gathered around to greet them and see what they had brought home from their hunting expedition. The group of young warriors exhibited their captive with pride. They couldn’t say just what they had brought back to the village. Nothing like this had ever been seen before. If it were a god then it was not a particularly frightful looking god. Until they could determine the nature of what they had found, no decision could be made as to what to do with it. They proceeded up a muddy path that led to a village composed of several huts constructed of poles, reeds, and grass thatch. Casey could see women and children working in a garden at the edge of the clearing. They seemed to be harvesting some kind of long, yellow tubular roots.

As they entered the village a vision of horror greeted Casey. He was seized with terror as he gazed upon poles placed upright in the ground displaying human skulls. They passed an open shelter where an old man was lying on a mat and using a skull for a pillow. His stomach was further revolted to see natives wearing necklaces of human teeth and finger bones. He saw a child drinking from a cup made from a human skull. The next horror to pass before his eyes was what appeared to be a warrior scraping flesh off what seemed to be human skin stretched on a framework of poles. In the center of the village he saw a large earthen pot setting over a fire with some kind of simmering vegetable stew.

At last they came to what seemed to be some sort of longhouse where village meetings were held. Inside the only light was what came through the door and filtered through the thatch of the walls. It took a few moments for Casey’s eyes to adjust to the darkness. The dirt packed floor was covered with reed mats and more trophies of war decorated the walls. In the far end of the building sat an emaciated and shriveled leathery skinned old man as black as coal. He was obviously the village elder.

Today the Korowai are among the very few New Guinea tribes believed to eat human flesh. The tribe lives in the West Papua Indonesian province of New Guinea. They live a hard existence with little food. Eighty percent of their diet is harvested from the rain forest and their meager gardens. Some fish are harvested from the river along with small crocodiles. From the forest they harvest a few mammals and birds to supplement their protein deficient diets. Sometimes they hunt and capture young warriors from enemy tribes to satisfy their cravings for red meat protein. Widespread cannibalism is a means of scaring off possible enemies and getting rid of captured enemy warriors. Consuming one’s enemy, it is believed will allow them to obtain and absorb the spirit and skills of the victim as well as the consumption of human flesh for its taste and nutritional value. Cannibalism is a basic means of survival in times of crop failure and scarcity of game in the forest. New Guinea is where the term long pig evolved because of the resemblance of human flesh to that of wild boar in both taste and meat quality. The tribal elder has described man flesh as being far superior to wild boar and like the wild boar he prefers the hams because they provide the most meat. The body fat, oils and juices of a strong young warrior are highly prized in cooking, especially when the iguana is hard to find.

Casey had nearly reached a state of collapse. The horrible realization that this is a tribe of cannibals made his stomach quiver and his bowels wretched up inside him. For the first time in his life he knew real fear. Now he knew how much he wanted to live. The young warriors were having a conference with the elder and they were soon joined by another group of men. They were talking quite excitedly and repeatedly pointed at Casey and he could tell they weren’t saying anything good. As the meeting wore on, more and more men came in until the hut was filled to capacity. Soon there were wide-eyed boys joining in the excitement. A boy of about 12 came up, squeezed Casey’s butt cheeks and licked his lips. When the chatter finally reached a fever pitch the old man ordered everyone out of the hut but Nango and Casey. The young warrior and the old man conversed for what seemed to Casey to be an eternity. Finally it appeared they had come to some kind of agreement. The village elder motioned for Nango to take Casey outside.

Casey was directed to a shady spot under a tree where he was motioned to sit down. He thought of attempting an escape. Perhaps he could just run blindly into the forest and disappear but he knew that would be an exercise in futility. Nango motioned for him to stay where he was then went over to a great earthen cooking pot that was simmering over a fire. He reached in with a wooden ladle and pulled out two long yellowish roots that had been cooking. He put one on a large leaf for himself and gave the other one to Casey. When Casey took the food some of the hot juice from the tuber burned his hand. Casey flinched and raised his hand to his mouth. He uttered unhhh, and wiped his hand on his pants. Nango observed the reaction to the burn and seemed to have some kind of reaction himself. He urged Casey to eat the food from the leaf. The boiled root tasted not so bad after a long trying day.

To Casey’s surprise Nango reached over and pulled up Casey’s jacket and tee shirt. He examined his belly with his hand. In the language of which the white man still had no comprehension, he was saying, “Now I know you are no god. A god would not have felt the pain of being burned with the hot food. You are from some far away tribe we have never seen before. You are from the tribe that rides in the big bird. You are a gift from the gods for making a tasty stew.” The next unexpected thing that happened, Nango reached over and felt Casey’s groin area, his thighs and his genitals. He reached over and felt his chest and pressed his finger into Casey’s bellybutton. He smiled smacked his lips, rubbed his belly and nodded his approval. Casey was stunned. Was this black savage feeling a queer hunger for his meat? If he lusted for him, should he let him go ahead and do as he pleased? Could this be a way of saving his life? Casey pulled his shirt off and lay back on his mat. Would Nango be interested? What was going on in his mind? He found out soon enough. The black man crept over to him and leaned down putting his mouth on Casey’s pecs. He began to lick, taste and rub them. Was he filled with an erotic hunger for this stranger? He moved his mouth down to Casey’s belly and licked his navel. He grasped a thin layer of skin under the ribs with the fatty tissue under it, pinched it into a fold of flesh and began to taste the loin. He kept up the sound of slurping, while mmmmmm came forth from his mouth. Nango raised Casey’s arm up so he could smell the deodorant that still lingered from a morning shower. He smelled the fragrance Casey had sprayed into his pubes and inspected Casey’s sweet meats. He felt of Casey’s thighs and calves, massaging them all the while and going mmmm. He reached down to Casey’s boots and looked somewhat bewildered. Casey took them off so Nango could inspect them more closely. He again smelled the aroma of well oiled leather and the deodorant Casey and sprayed into his boots that morning. Casey showed Nango the zipper in his fly and how it worked. Nango reached inside the fly and masturbated Casey. He pulled out a handful of semen that he tasted and then smiled his approval.

Both young men lay back on the mat exhausted and soon the tribal elder and a group of young warriors approached them. It seems that some decision had to be made. The elder asked Nango if the stranger were a god. Nango assured the elder that Casey was no god. He had felt the pain of a burn. The elder gave a command to a half dozen warriors who seized Casey by the arms and lifted him to his feet. Now Casey felt a terror that can only be known by the trophy buck deer that has just been taken as prey by the hungering wolf. There could be no greater horror than the realization that one is about to be slaughtered like a pig and roasted for a village feast. Casey screamed out to Nango. “What are they going to do to me? Help me Nango. Don’t let them do this to me. Nango please, I don’t wanna die.” Casey kicked, screamed and fought like a snared tiger as he passed his water into his jeans.

A horror gripped him such as only a man about to be devoured can feel.
Nango seemed pleased that he had been released from making the decision as to what was to be done with his captive. Still Nango made no effort to help Casey as the group of men dragged him to a huge stone in the center of the village. There was really nothing Nango could do, the village elder had spoken. There would be feasting on good meat in the village that night. Casey screamed out to the only person in the world who would possibly help him. Suddenly that person seemed to be as eager as anyone else in the crowd to cook and eat him. Two men came and unbuckled his belt, pulled down his pants and boxers. They threw them into a heap on the ground. Pulled off his socks and smelled them. Then they smelled his boots. They gave a cry of exaltation and exuberance at the sight of the naked light skinned meat before them. Suddenly Casey passed his water again in sheer horror. He screamed in terror, “God help me Jesus, please God,” He sobbed, his chin quivered and his voice trembled, “Oh please dear God, I don’t wanna die.” I wanna live; I wanna get married; I wanna make babies; I want kids. Casey threw himself at the feet of Nango and then at the feet of the village elder begging for his life. Nango seemed to be so sexually aroused by Casey’s fear that his penis gourd stood up. Casey groveled and promised to be Nango’s slave. He picked up his shiny flight boots and handed them to the old man. They would be his gift to him. There was an opening in the crowd of young warriors so Casey took to his feet and began to run for his life. He ran into two warriors, knocking them to the ground as he fled toward the forest. The group of young warriors began screaming war cries as they began to pursue their prey. The warrior that had hit him with the spear in the forest suddenly was blocking his retreat. He hit the warrior head on and they both fell to the ground. Casey was up and running in an instant but was immediately surrounded by a half dozen of the strong, young, dark-skinned warriors. He broke to the left but was hit by another warrior. He cut to the right but was intercepted by another warrior. He lowered his head and butted the warrior just ahead of him. The warrior was knocked to the ground. Casey was almost to the edge of the forest now. He was near exhaustion but determined to escape. Just then two strong arms reached around his naked waist and pulled him to the ground. He had nearly escaped. It was Nango who had apprehended him. It was Nango who pinned him to the ground. Nango felt a surge of erotic hunger deep in his bowels as he clutched his prey. Nango wanted to fully possess the juicy, sweet smelling, succulent, luscious, youthful, light-skinned stranger beneath him. In an instant several warriors were all over him, holding him, hitting him, screaming to one another in a language Casey did not know. Casey was dragged before the elder once again.

The Elder gave a stone club to Nango. He said, “Here this is your captive. You must do this.” Casey looked into the eyes of Nango with horror written all over his face and fear in his eyes. He shook his head and said through tears, “No Nango, no don’t do this. I like you Man, honest I really do like you.” But Nango had no understanding of anything but the fear of his prey and his obvious pleas for mercy. Nango felt a twinge of reluctance. He wanted to keep his captive. He felt an unusual attraction to this light skinned, teary eyed boy from the sky. But there was to be no mercy that day nor any other day for any unfortunate captive brought into this village. Two men picked Casey up off the ground and forced his head down hard on the large rock. To the young warrior Nango, there was something sensually erotic in the fear and pleading of his victim. Nango approached the teary eyed Casey, raised the stone club and brought it crashing down on the skull of its latest victim. Casey was now just 155 pounds of quivering, convulsing, thrashing meat to be butchered and cooked for a great village feast. Casey was carried over to the fire where he was held over the flames to singe all the hair off his body. The hair on his head was short. He didn’t have much body hair just some under his arm pits, a trail of fine hair went from the naval to a thatch of light pubic hair and some hair on his arms and legs. He then was stretched out on the ground just as so many other long pigs had been done. His head was quickly removed and the blood gushed from his body. The belly was slit open with a long fire hardened bamboo knife. Several men reached in and gutted him being careful so as not to let the guts fall on the ground. There were fully 22-24 feet of intestines. One of the warriors held up a length of intestine to show the on-lookers. The intestines were to be taken to the river and thoroughly washed and cleaned inside and out. Then they were cut into approximately 3 or 4foot lengths and wrapped around a stick. They were slowly roasted over a low glowing fire until they became crispy. They were considered to be a delicacy for their protein deficient diet.

The arms and legs were quickly hacked off and severed at the joints. The chest cavity was hacked open and the heart, lungs, liver and all other remaining organs removed. The elder marveled at the thighs of their longpig. They were thick and meaty; the butt was well rounded and formed. The pieces of meat were thrown into the great fire blackened earthen pot. Nothing was to be wasted. Some of the tender meat from the lower back was cut away and eaten raw along with the liver, which was considered to be the source of life because it was full of blood. The kidneys and heart were thrown into the pot along with the head. The male genitals were cooked to be eaten by the young men to pass on the male prowess of the victim. This was done in order to increase their mating capacity. The penis went to Nango and he sucked the succulent juices out of it before chewing and swallowing it. He would probably take a wife soon. The eyes were plucked from the cooked head and given to the old people who have poor vision. The tongue was eaten by the elder to give him greater oratorical skills. The brain was taken from the cooked skull and eaten to impart wisdom. The elder smelled the spicy aromatic scent sprayed into the boots. They were obviously made of animal skin. They smelled good so he threw them into the pot with the meat. He later tried to eat the boots but found he could not chew them. The men of the village grabbed onto the clothing. They had never worn clothing. One man put on the blue jeans. Another put on the tee shirt, another put on the boxers. Then Nango quickly put on the good smelling flight jacket. It was a great prize. He picked up a long wooden spoon and began stirring the pot. A couple of times he went out of sight and masturbated into the jacket to mingle his scent with that of the tender youth. He then returned and stirred the pot of stew, proudly wearing the jacket that its former owner had also once worn with pride.

The village elder spoke during the feasting and conceded this was the best long pig he had ever tasted. He savored the succulent flavor of the young fair skinned bird boy in his taste buds. He said his favorite part was the hams because there was so much meat on them. In fact he said that in his opinion man flesh is far superior to wild boar. Hopefully it won’t be too long before the gods bring another such a fair skinned gift so they can enjoy another feast of succulent long pig.

Nango sat under the overhang of his hut, savoring a piece of meat sliced from the tender round butt cheek of the flyboy. He remembered the day fondly and how he had hungered for his handsome young long pig. He had consumed the penis, a testicle, some butt and now Casey was a part of him. The sweet smelling essence of his spirit lingered in his jacket. He fondled his throbbing dick and smelled the leather flight jacket he wore.

The feasting was done, the night was turning to dawn and a light misting rain began to fall once again over the Rain Forest. Nango dreamed of a lover that smelled sweet and spicy as he slept.

THE END