Our next mini-story for Race and Culture Change September. Hope you like this one!

By FoxFaceStories

Alan is a middle-aged man experiencing a mid-life crisis. But when his planned boat trip around the world leads him to shipwreck upon a pristine tropical island, perhaps his mid-life crisis will be solved with a bit of native transformation magic?

Islander Pleasures

Edgar couldn’t believe his misfortune, nor his good luck despite it. He had recently turned forty-seven years old, and finally his looming mid-life crisis had hit, and hit hard. He had, after all, gone through a rather turbulent divorce, and because he’d been a workaholic for much of his life, he couldn’t find any meaning in his children, for he had none. So many hours had been spent toiling away in his boring desk job in a large banking corporation, and it had caused his hair to go prematurely grey and a bald spot to grow. After his birthday, something in the man had snapped. He quit his job, bought a sailing yacht, and planned to find meaning and purpose by travelling around the world and experiencing life.

It turns out, however, that such a voyage requires a lot more planning, experience, and skilled expertise than he had assumed. Just a week into his ill-fated trip, Edgar experienced horrific torrential downpours, followed by a great thunderstorm that caused the sea to roil. The man was helpless, terrified of death, and the one thought on his mind was this: How on Earth did I expect to solve my crisis of purpose like this!?

And then the ship turned over, and he was lost to the waves before he could even think of another way to find fulfilment. The man thought he was dead, but instead he washed upon a pristine, paradise-like tropical island. Edgar could scarcely believe it; the weather was warm and sunny, the beach almost white in its sandy perfection, and the trees bulged with tropical fruits. Rabid with thirst and hunger, he tore into the fruit and drank from the freshwater streams further into the jungle, which was teeming with verdancy and life. But even as he did so, his side swelled with pain. He gritted his teeth, and though he was no doctor, he could see the blood pooling there. An internal injury that looked very serious, and more so by the second.

“Help!” he cried out. “Help me! I need medical attention!”

Only for him to be surrounded by brown-skinned natives just minutes later, having called them directly to his position. Edgar was not a highly-cultured man, not a particularly fit one, what with his fat gut and stubby legs. And these natives, who appeared perhaps Polynesian or related to Hawaiian islanders in some way, were all great physical specimens. The men towered over him, broad and strong, their curly black hair like manes down their back. They wore clothing woven from reeds, palm tree leaves, and the furs of animals such as boars. In each hand was a spear, the tip of which looked like the jagged jawline of a sawtooth shark. Instantly, the very pale Caucasian man conjured up fears of being eaten alive by some group of cannibals. 

Instead, though he could not understand his words, nor they his, they quickly got him onto a stretcher that was brought by another hurrying individual, and brought him to their remarkable village, which looked almost like a low-tech paradise resort, with huts that were open to the warm air and a beautiful cool spring that various women were bathing in. Despite his pain, Edgar found himself entranced by those native islander women. His wife had been a cold, cruel stick figure of a woman, but these women were bountiful, with thick thighs, wide birthing hips, and large breasts contained within colourful wraps that left their gorgeous brown shoulders exposed. They smiled warmly at him, some beaming and talking amongst themselves. And yet he only spotted a small number of women compared to the men.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked the strong native man who held one half of the stretcher.

The man gave a response, but Edgar couldn’t understand it. Instead, he just had to trust that these kindly, and remarkably healthy and beautiful, people could help him. They applied various ointments and creams to his skin, and allowed him to eat some special purple fruit that had the most magnificently addictive taste. It seemed very important to him, and while he rested back, various women came and prayed over him, young and old, making strange chants. Oddly, he found it quite relaxing.

This continued over the coming days. The ointments were applied not just to his side but to his chest and legs. The fruit was fed to him, along with specially prepared tea and other forms of drink. Edgar found his strength returning, but not just that; he was feeling younger. Various wrinkles he once possessed began to disappear. His achy right arm no longer had its morning pains. His hair began to grow back, fuller and more wonderful. It was a miracle!

But there were other changes too, even as he rested, slept, woke, ate, and continued to be the subject of these remarkable rituals. His skin had started to tan; not just tan, but look actually brown in some places! His hair, once light brown before it was grey, turned thick and black, and gained curls like that of a native. His nipples expanded, his chest strangely sensitive, and his fat gut began to recede, though it seemed the flesh was pooling elsewhere, namely to his increasingly thick thighs and his rear. His body hair began to fall away, much to his confusion.

“What - what are you doing to me?” he asked after several days of this, his voice higher, strangely accented. 

To Edgar’s shock, the older woman he was talking to replied in her own language, and yet he somehow understood it. “A disease came to our island, many moons and seasons ago. Many women died, some men too. Women who survived could not bear young. We prayed for a miracle, and now you are here, and the Gods have given us the ritual to help us.”

“H-help how?”

The woman smiled. “By becoming one of us.”

He was too tired to question her further, and instead he slept. But still his body changed. He could barely believe it, but there was no doubting what was happening; he was becoming a native islander, complete with long black hair and a more hairless, supple figure. His years were slipping off of him, and soon he felt like he was merely twenty years old instead of in his late forties. 

“This is incredible,” he murmured to himself before being fed more special fruit. “I’m changing race! I’m becoming one of you. I - I feel better than I have in years!”

“Good, good,” the woman, whose name was Sakaia, said to him. “Soon you will be part of our tribe. We welcome you, Edaga.”

He accepted the new name happily. This place was a paradise, and now he could walk around it, and feel its warmth and wonder, its more relaxed lifestyle. The women looked at him with hope and promised to make him beautiful clothes, while the men gazed at him with interest in a way that made him . . . intrigued.

Soon, the reason why became obvious. After a few more days had passed, the newly-named Edaga could no longer deny it: he was becoming a woman. A pair of breasts were swelling from his chest, and his manhood was slowly withdrawing back into his body. His buttocks were impressive, his thighs gorgeous and soft, and his hips wide. More than that, his face was visibly feminine, growing more beautiful by the day.

“That’s how I’m going to help you, isn’t it?” he asked Sakaia. “You want me to become a woman? To g-give birth!”

The woman nodded. “Indeed. We need you, Edaga. The Gods sent you to shine your fertile blessings upon us. There are too few children, and only a few fertile women left. You can join them.”

Edgar was shocked. And yet . . . he still allowed the ointments. He still ate the fruit. It was all addictive, but it was almost more than that; part of him felt he had a purpose now. It was not the one he had ever imagined for himself, but with each change he felt healthier, more attractive, and more willing to try a new female life. He had wasted his male one. The white-dominated world of business had been cold and empty, but perhaps as a gorgeous, curvaceous island gal, he could find peace, love, and a true family? Some nights, he even dreamed of being a mother, his belly swollen with future children, courtesy of a rather handsome man of the tribe. 

“Give me more,” he told Sakaia when his changes were almost done.

“More?”

“More ointment, more fruit. Whatever changes you are making, let’s finish them. I want to leave my old life behind and try being a woman of the tribe. I want to be a beautiful girl, and I’m sick of waiting. I can already speak your language, and my old one is disappearing from my memory. Please, can we hurry up with the changes?”

Sakaia smiled. “There is a risk you shall become, perhaps, more fertile than expected. You might want to have children before you are truly ready for your new life.”

But at this, the gorgeous soon-to-be-islander woman simply laughed in his soft, sweet way. “Trust me, I was lost in a crisis of identity before I came here. I’m ready for a new life. A new purpose to give me meaning.”

Sakaia smiled. “Then let’s finish your ritual, Edaga.”

***

Three years later, Edaga smiled as she helped pull in a fishing net full of the sea’s great offering. Sakaia was at her side, the older woman smiling at the former man.

“I am surprised you still want to help pull in the catches, my friend,” she said. “You should be resting and enjoying the bounty of your womb, instead of the bounty of the sea.”

Edaga giggled and caressed her swollen stomach, brown and beautiful and naked to the warm sun’s rays. She wore only a skirt of reeds and palm leaves, as well as a simple cloth wrap around her very impressive breasts these days, and she enjoyed feeling so free and able to express her love of her own body without any shame.

“Bounties, plural, Sakaia,” she said. “It’s twins, this time.”

“Ha! And I thought your first two pregnancies would bring you twins.”

“I am hoping future ones will. I love the feeling of them kicking. I never get tired of it.”

She stroked her stomach, closing her eyes and smiling with her thick lips, taking in the marvellous sensations of her little ones squirming and shifting away inside of her.”

“Juntay will be most proud to be the father of two,” Sakaia said. “I suspect Hapur and Sunjom will be jealous. They only got you with one.”

Edaga opened her eyes and continued to help pull in the net. “I’m sure they will get me with child again. I am only twenty three years old in this new life your tribe gave me, my friend. I still have many fertile years left.”

She looked over to where her oldest, her daughter Maya, was playing with several women of the village. It was so wonderful here; the whole village literally helped raise the children, and while she would no doubt take a husband one day, everyone was accepting that she would be having children with a number of the men of the tribe, in order to provide children for all. It made all the morning sickness and tiredness worth it, though there wasn’t even much of that; it was almost like the magical change had made her body perfect for making babies.

“Many years left, indeed,” Sakaia said. “And will you be happy with them?”

Edaga’s heart bloomed with warmth as a fellow sister of the tribe - Naida - brought the woman her youngest child, her son Yamba. She lifted her top without shame, exposing a large brown breast, and took her second child. He latched immediately and began suckling from her, drinking the milk her body would be producing for years and years to come.

“More happy than I can possibly describe, Sakaia,” she said to her older friend. “And I’m a long, long way off from any mid-life crisis, too!”

The End