Two years had passed since Ethan Sinclair tumbled through the rift into this world—no men but him, endless lands of women awaiting his seed, a destiny as the Breeder woven into prophecy and pleasure alike. At first, in quiet moments under foreign stars, he had felt the ache of home: Earth's noise, its mundane comforts, faces he would never see again. But time, adventure, and the fierce love of Vaeloria, Liraya, Valyndra—and countless others—had eroded that longing like waves on stone. This world was his now. Its joys, its dangers, its women who looked to him with hope and hunger—they filled every corner of his heart. He no longer missed the old life; he lived this one fully.
The maps showed only slivers left unexplored—perhaps 10% of the vast continents and hidden realms. The shadow threat grew bolder, armies massing in distant voids, but Eldoria stood stronger than ever: wards blazing with fused relics, alliances from sea, sky, and depths, a population blooming with his legacy. One of the final unmarked regions lay southwest: a vast tropical basin ringed by impenetrable jungles, home to the Eternal Summer Tribe—nudist women who shunned all cloth, living in perpetual warmth, bodies adorned only with flowers, paints, and jewelry of shell and bone.
Scouts had made rare contact years ago: the tribe traded exotic fruits and healing herbs, always nude, always female, always retreating before full alliance. Now, with shadow tendrils probing even the jungles, it was time.
Ethan's party set out at the height of summer: himself, Vaeloria with spear and obsidian grace, Liraya in flowing crimson that barely contained her fire, towering Valyndra golden and serene, her elven pregnancy now beautifully rounded. A small escort of Eldorian warriors—pregnant champions from the football league—guarded supplies, but the core four pressed ahead.
The journey took weeks through steaming rainforests: rivers crossed on vine bridges, nights in hammocks under canopy, days hacking through foliage thick with orchids and calling birds. Heat wrapped them like a lover; clothes were shed early, the party traveling near-nude to match the climate.
At last, the jungle parted into a hidden valley: rolling meadows of soft grass, crystal waterfalls feeding warm lagoons, fruit groves heavy with mango and passionfruit, huts woven from living palms open to the air. And the women—hundreds strong, all nude, bodies gloriously varied but sharing traits of the tribe's ancient bloodline: large, heavy breasts swaying freely with dark nipples often pierced by bone or gold, hips wide and fertile, and between strong thighs, thick bushes of curly hair framing prominent pussies, untamed and proud.
They moved with unashamed sensuality—walking with hips swaying, breasts bouncing, hairy mounds flashing in sunlight. Children maintained their modesty until they reached womanhood and then became nudist , the children —girls only, of course—played naked in streams; elders painted bodies with sacred dyes.
The welcoming party approached: twenty women led by their matriarch, Solara—a voluptuous beauty in her prime, skin sun-kissed bronze, breasts massive and pendulous yet firm, nipples thick and erect, her hairy pussy a dark, lush triangle glistening in the heat. Flowers crowned her wild black hair; shell necklaces draped between her breasts.
No words at first—communication through song and gesture, a melodic hum that conveyed welcome, curiosity, need. Solara's eyes fixed on Ethan, widening in recognition: the Breeder from distant tales, the one whose seed could end their long drought of daughters.
They were led to the central glade: a vast circle of soft grass ringed by palms, central fire pit unlit in the endless warmth, low platforms for feasting and lounging.
Hospitality flowed: platters of ripe fruits drizzled with honey, coconut milk laced with aphrodisiac herbs, roasted tubers bursting with flavor. Women danced in spirals—breasts heaving, hips grinding air, hairy pussies flashing as legs spread in leaps.
Desire rose like the valley heat.
That first night, under a canopy of stars brighter than any Ethan had known on Earth, Solara led him to the sacred glade—a private meadow of flowers that glowed softly. She lay back on petals, legs spreading wide, revealing her thick bush parted by arousal, lips swollen and wet.
Ethan knelt between her thighs, hands cupping heavy breasts, thumbs circling thick nipples. She hummed approval, arching into his touch.
He kissed down her body—sucking each nipple until she gasped songs, tongue tracing through her hairy mound to taste her essence: earthy, sweet, intoxicating.
Solara's hands guided his head deeper, hips lifting. He lapped eagerly—tongue parting curls, delving into slick folds, circling her prominent clit.
Her song rose in pitch—body trembling, breasts heaving—as climax claimed her silently, nectar flooding his mouth.
Ethan rose, cock throbbing. She pulled him down, guiding him into her heat—hairy lips parting around his girth, walls hot and welcoming.
He thrust slow at first, savoring the contrast: her lush bush tickling his skin, large breasts pressed against his chest.
Solara wrapped legs around him, urging deeper. Her song became breathy moans—primal, unrestrained.
Vaeloria, Liraya, and Valyndra joined from the shadows, bodies painted with tribe dyes, breasts and mounds adorned with flowers.
Vaeloria straddled Solara's face, grinding down; the matriarch's tongue delved eagerly through warrior smoothness.
Liraya warmed oils with magic, pouring over Ethan's back and Solara's breasts, hands massaging heavy flesh.
Valyndra's long fingers reached between, rubbing Solara's clit as Ethan pounded deeper.
The glade filled with moans and wet sounds—Ethan's pace increasing, Solara's hips bucking to meet him.
She came again—body arching, pussy clenching, silent scream into Vaeloria's folds.
Ethan followed, burying deep and pulsing, seed flooding her fertile depths.
The night unfolded into tribal ecstasy.
Solara summoned her inner circle—dozens of women with similarly lush bodies: large breasts swaying, hairy pussies glistening. They pleasured Ethan in waves: mouths descending through bushes to suck him; bodies piling in compact, curvaceous tangles.
One young warrior with enormous breasts rode him cowgirl—hairy mound grinding his pelvis, breasts bouncing hypnotically as she sang pleasure.
Another bent over flowers, presenting hairy ass and pussy—Ethan taking her from behind while she ate Solara.
Vaeloria and Liraya explored tribe women—fingers and tongues delving through thick curls, discovering sensitive spots.
Valyndra lifted women easily, positioning them on Ethan's cock or face.
Days blurred in eternal summer.
By day, they learned tribe ways: healing herbs from the jungle, songs that warded spirits, dances that honored fertility. The women taught Ethan their body paints—swirling patterns over his chest and cock, enhancing sensation.
Nights belonged to breeding.
In warm lagoons, women floated around him—large breasts bobbing on water, hairy pussies ridden in buoyant bliss.
On meadow platforms, circles formed: Ethan moving from woman to woman, filling hairy depths one by one as others sang and touched.
One memorable dusk, fifty tribe women gathered in the central glade for a fertility rite: Ethan at center on a flower throne, women taking turns riding slow and deep, hairy bushes grinding, large breasts pressed to his face for sucking.
Solara orchestrated: lines of bent-over beauties, chains of licking through curls, piles where breasts smothered and pussies clenched.
Climaxes rippled in waves—women shuddering silently or singing release, nectar soaking grass.
Ethan spent endlessly—stamina forged by two years in this world—filling dozens directly, inspiring hundreds in the frenzy.
The alliance sealed: the tribe pledged jungle warriors and healing lore against shadow, their hidden valley a final sanctuary.
Departure came after ten days—Solara escorting them to the jungle edge, her belly and many others already swelling with swift tribal gestation.
"We bloom again," she sang softly. "Return when the world needs summer."
Eldoria welcomed them with festivals—tribe herbs shared, songs learned.
Healers confirmed: from the valley's passionate rites and inspired city revels, one hundred and twelve more women carried his seed—tribal and Eldorian alike.
Added to the previous three hundred and seven, four hundred and nineteen in total swelled with promise.
Four hundred and nineteen eternal summers against the endless night.
Ethan stood on the walls with his four companions—Vaeloria fierce, Liraya fiery, Valyndra towering, and now perhaps space for one more on distant horizons.
Only scattered realms remained. The final chapters approached.
(Word count: 2,508)
Pregnancies confirmed this cycle: 112
Total pregnancies since Ethan reset the cycle 419