Into The Amazon

-- Day 0; Entry 1

Ah, what a glorious day, and a glorious day to all who honor me by reading this, my personal documentation of sight and sound. My name, for those who skimmed the cover of this novel, is Mark Wallerberry and I am indeed a Documentarian. Some might refer to me as a photographer and a journalist, but these professions have grown so tainted over the years. I am far more respectable than your average beat reporter making things up as he goes, desperate for online views. And I am certainly more noble than a heinous paparazzo scrounging around for an inside glimpse at the latest private shame of a public figure.

Nay, I stick with the word that I myself truly define, the classic ‘Documentarian’ to describe what I am. I deal in only the truth, the truth that frees us… the truth that defines our fair, yet merciless world. I have been for many moons on many on expedition, capturing images and jotting down record of our species at their most base and primal, atleast by our so-called civilization’s standard. 

For you see, if there’s one thing I’ve found in my extensive travels, it’s that the misconceptions could not be higher as it pertains to the most out-of-reach parts of the planet. For as connected and small as mother Earth has become in recent millenia, no doubt there are still sects that behold themselves a mystery to us. And in our arrogance, we look down on them, knowingly or otherwise. 

I have without fail found that the deep rooted tribes I have encountered are far from the savages of yor, despite how much some might tell you that they have barely advanced from mere cavemen. I have found with them forms, albeit primitive in some cases, of economy and democracy, and a level of peace those back home may well be envious of. 

And I much delight in recounting these stories, for what greater a hero could there be than one that spreads such enlightenment…? The world must know how wrong it is about it’s less technologically advanced brethren, and sistren, as the case may be…

That is of course a novel bit of foreshadowing by me. Because you see, as I, Mark Wallerberry, write this, the first of many journal entries you shall have the blessing of reading, I am lounging on my personal vessel in maiden voyage to a whole new world. The mysterious unknown of the Isla de Sieviešu Dominēšana...  one of the precious few locales still considered unexplored by the modern man!

And oh, but the rumors that abound about that place… misguided though they surely are. Many say that the islands are inhabited purely by women and liken it to fictionalized depictions of Amazonia. Somehow thriving alone without the aid of men or the technology that would make that semi-feasible in today’s age… so fascinating. And supposedly, just as powerful and aggressive as their mythical counterparts, indeed the Sievesons as some call them are said to be the inspirations for the tall tales themselves!

An intricate tale, but no doubt a tall one. It would seem extremely unlikely that a tribe could genuinely find a way to survive with purely one gender. And beyond that, the idea that they live to this day as brutal warrioresses seems quite preposterous, if not insulting. No race could survive this long without understanding the folly of savagery. Besides, who would they go to war with, without any neighboring country? Am I to believe they have been in a constant state of civil war, never resolved and yet somehow never causing their permanent demise…? 

No, surely, even if they did once inspire what we know now as the Amazons, these women - and men! - would have to have learned peace and prosperity beyond combat. And if the world refuses to drop it’s narrow-minded assumptions of them, then it can only be up to me, Mark Wallerberry, to right this wrong once and for all. 

My excitement mounts as our destination soon approaches. I swear I can see it, cropping out on the horizon… tomorrow brings discovery and new understanding. A voice for those who aren’t even aware they don’t have it… that is the liberation that I, Mark Wallerberry, shall soon provide… onward, my captain. Onward.

-- Day 1; Entry 2

My ever paranoid and cautious journey party seemed wary of our initial landing destination. There, we caught first glimpse of some tribe members… indeed, there is human life on this island after all! I must admit, it is always a worry of mine that rumors not only be false on the lifestyle of these indigenous peoples, but indeed be wrong about their existence altogether. Alas, but that scenario has been a sad reality for me more times than I would care to admit.

But here they were… and interestingly, I only saw women, albeit of a very small sample size, around eight of them on the beach just ahead of this wonderful tropical paradise. Funnily, the lush greenery of the inner island reminded me somewhat of the Amazon rain forest. Either way, the women stood at the ready when they saw our boat, no doubt curious and perhaps concerned, having never gotten visitors before. It’s understandable that they looked wary, and some even held up spears to defend themselves from unwanted intruders.

I shan’t judge it. I would be afraid in their position as well. But I am certain that once they come to understand our intent, they will have no trouble welcoming and embracing us… even if my poor shipmates seem to have been stricken with a sudden case of cowardice. At their behest, I, Mark Wallerberry mercifully allowed them to steer off course and land at a more immediately empty spot on the island’s beaches. 

They seem content that where we ended up breaching land was more than safe. But the fear was persistent among them, especially with our yeoman, the first who took close sight of the land within his binoculars. Apparently, he got a very good look at the faces of one of those women and is now superstitiously shaken. He swears to me that she was looking right into his eyes from miles out, and wore an expression, not of feral rage or of unknowing fright, but of fierce resentment. Her apparent hateful face has shaken him, and the rest of the crew seems to take this silliness at face value. 

Obviously I, Mark Wallerberry, know that he is simply being ridiculous, but I can’t exactly trek into the jungle alone. So I shall have to wait until the crew calms down from this ordeal before we head on, it seems.

-- Day 1; Entry 3

Oh, how contemptible… despite my best efforts, I was unable to convince my crew to trek into the island until it was too late. The sun sets on us… there’s no way they’re going in that forest in the dark. Frankly, even I, with all my daring, hesitate to think of the result. It’s so thick in that brush, it’d surely be a nightmare to navigate and scant any light would come through, even with how bright and shining the stars are on this, a beautiful island of zero light pollution.

Still… it is the very definition of senselessness to me, Mark Wallerberry, that they would waste so much time that we need be in such a situation in the first place. I had planned on making the most of this day, but thanks to the yeoman’s progressively ludicrous tales of what he saw in that woman’s eyes, taking in the other men’s imaginations as well, all the daylight went to waste. I cannot believe we spent three hours arguing on the docked ship… it confounds me.

I had hoped that the old idea of sailors being superstitious, vulnerable to active imaginations amidst lengthy, empty voyages was but an outdated stereotype. But alas, it seemed to ring true among my very own crew… I wasn’t aware of how many horror stories they had heard about supposed past visitors to this ‘land of Amazons’...

Hmph. I suppose there’s nothing to be done… we’ll rest for the night, and hopefully my companions find some sense, or atleast some bravery, in the morning.

-- Day 1; Entry 4

No. On second thought… no! I refuse! I shan’t be held back by such empty-headed thinking! This narrow-minded view of indigenous people is exactly what I seek to combat, and I assuredly will not sit here and let it hold me back! I have gotten myself into far more harrowing situations than being lost in a dark, uncharted jungle and I will not be paralyzed in fear of the possibility! Not I, Mark Wallerberry!

I shall load up my backpack of essentials and machete, with which I shall carve out a path to enlightenment… if they don’t wish to accompany me, then that is fine by me. To be quite frank, they have already done their jobs in getting me here.

They aren’t documentarians after all… merely sailors and supposed ruffians. In theory it’s in their job description to protect me, but the truth is that I am the one protecting them and the rest of the world from their own ignorance. And they would have been of little assistance going forward, of that I am certain. Indeed, they sailed the ship and got me ashore. But the rest was always up to me… Mark Wallerberry.

-- Day 2; Entry 5

In spite of my unbelievably cowardly crew’s pleas for my safety, I indeed set out on my own and am now writing this from a temporary encampment I created for myself. To be honest, after seeing those women on the beach, I had assumed the village was not far off. I didn’t think I would be walking so long that I would even need a camp, but here we are. Figuring out timezones for such a remote place is tricky, but I know I have passed midnight, hence the denomination of this very entry.

Still, I am pressing on… I won’t rest until I see them and study them. I require no assistance… I, Mark Wallerberry, have everything that I need.

-- Day 2; Entry 6

By jove, I’ve done it! By myself, I, Mark Wallerberry have scoured this jungle and hit upon the local civilization! I can spot five women from my current vantage point… what a grand discovery! A mere hour after my last entry, here I now sit, but meters away from a quote-on-quote ‘Amazonian’ village. Though despite my sarcastic wit, I must say it does look the part on the surface. I have yet to see a man among the tribe, though I have only just begun to study them. And these women are… well, I don’t wish to obscene, but they are something else. 

Their attire was standard village wear, brown leathers and skins, sparingly covering themselves, as the heat and humidity made overdressing a fool’s errand. But that didn’t mean they looked like your usual indigenous people. You would think they’d have intentionally trained their bodies to achieve such a look as they all have. Statuesque, surprisingly tall, each of them atleast six foot I would wager, atleast from my current sample size. And my, are they built… not in a lewd way mind, although I certainly don’t have any complaints of the view.

But they are shockingly defined. Many of the native tribes I’ve seen had powerful members by necessity, but those of functional strength gained by lifting logs and the like don’t tend to look at all like this. They were so defined… like professional body builders, yet somehow maintaining an unmistakable lithe femininity. You truly have to see it to believe it.

How they got like this, I truly do not know. But I think it’s fair to call it the first sign of advancement, as their training regimens must be out of this world. I dare say perhaps even rivalling what we have in modern civilization, atleast as far as the eye test goes, though what it translates to in terms of athleticism and strength, remains to be seen. 

Nonetheless, this is quite exciting… I can’t wait to see what I learn next. I will introduce myself eventually but for now I think it best to study them as they are naturally, to see what I can gleam from their everyday lives without any interference.

Day 2; Entry 7

What I have seen is truly stupendous… forget carrying logs. I, Mark Wallerberry, declare that I have seen a herculean feat of strength. But first, to set the scene… I came to notice a large, fallen oak tree that rested in the center of the greater village. In sidling along the outskirts of this locale, I came to see a few dozen other women as well, still no sign of any men which was becoming increasingly curious… but that’s not the point of this entry.

The bottom of the tree had been carved, painstakingly into a sharp point, as though they had intended to stick it back into the ground somehow. At first that’s exactly what I assumed the intent was, perhaps a simpleminded yet admirable attempt at restoring mother nature. But it’s true purpose was beyond me…

By happenstance, some sort of feral tiger wandered into the village… it hissed and snarled, clearly looking to make a meal out of one of the tribe members. To my surprise, none of the women seemed at all shocked or particularly frightened… they kept an eye on the beast, but it seemed more of a professional alertness than mortal peril. As though this was a daily part of their survival, and I suppose that it is.

As the others kept track of the similarly wary ferocious feline, two of the women strode towards the aforementioned felled oak. And, before my very own eyes, they honest to God picked the thing up together and did so comfortably. 

I fear perhaps I am not giving that accomplishment enough weight, but it’s only because I am shellshocked from having just witnessed it, my usual witty acumen might not be what it once was. But this was the kind of tree that, were it still standing, you would see it from miles and miles and miles out, a staggering specimen that had to have been atleast a hundred feet tall if not much moreso, and more than thick enough to be a test to lift at any length.

These two women… with no further help, no machinery, no tools, nothing of the sort, not only managed to hoist this thing upon their defined shoulders, but toss it! Chuck it like a javelin, causing it to soar a good fifty feet and land with precision and deadly accuracy as the spiked bottom of the oak impaled the tiger right through the spine! Such strength and dexterity was unheard of, I could not believe my eyes! The scene was a ghastly sight to be sure, but an awe-inspiring one as well. How could they possibly become so mighty…?

I know this must all sound absurd, because frankly I wouldn’t believe myself if it was accounted by any other scribe. But you know that it must be true, because it’s coming from me, Mark Wallerberry, and the only thing I do not know is how to lie to you, my beloved populace. 

Day 2; Entry 8

I simply don’t understand how any of this is possible… I’m still reeling from what I have just described, but after another hour of looking in-depth, this glaring issue has to be addressed. 

There… truly seems to be no other men in this village. Aside from my companions, who technically haven’t even stepped foot on the sands of shore yet as far as I know, I have yet to actually see a man on this entire island. 

The feat of strength was astonishing and certainly would seem impossible to me if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, but this was a simple matter of biology… there was no way all of these women could survive here, without any hint of oceanic transport, as a single-gender race, it simply isn’t something human beings are capable of.

I must be missing something… surely the men of this race are somewhere. Alas, for now, it is finally too dark even for me, I have no means of studying them without a light source, and such a thing would undoubtedly give me away. So I must for now retreat, back to my abode of cowards and finally rest for the night.

Day 2; Entry 9

Hrm, okay. There has been a slight hiccup in plans. As it turns out, we no longer have a ship. 

I wasn’t there to see this happen, but it’s the truth. I trekked back to where we had landed only to find the boat missing. For a moment I had the crazy thought that I had perhaps gotten lost, which in all these years would’ve been a first for me, Mark Wallerberry. But of course, that was not the case, as I discovered upon finding the hidden, shrubbery-based nearby encampment of my crew.

From their descriptions, it would seem that a group of women spotted them. If you believe the yeoman, it was the same crop that was on the initial beach we caught sight of. I truly find this hard to comprehend, but these women who have no doubt never in their lives seen a vessel of that calibre managed to board it without their knowing, and attack the crew, supposedly doing quite a number on our first mate in the process.

They were able to forcibly throw/intimidate the rest of them off of the ship and then, somehow, they apparently commandeered the damn thing and sailed it around the island. 

The ineptitude is truly staggering, beyond even my famously vivid imagination. I could understand being taken aback by the sudden raid, but how is it possible that they could not handle themselves in this situation? How could they mangle their predicament so badly that we actually lost our way home?! It seems unthinkable.

They are of course quick to lose hope now, dramatically stating that we will all lose our lives on this tropical locale. But I, Mark Wallerberry, will not falter… for even now I am certain this can be resolved, once we make peace with these people. They will know us as friends, allies, perhaps even heroes or Gods, depending on what kind of tribe we’re talking about. And once that happens, they will eagerly return possession of our boat.

Seriously, how do you let a boat get stolen in such a manner…? You’d think I’d be able to afford better help…

But alas, even I do tire eventually. Though the makeshift ‘beds’ these men have put together aren’t particularly alluring, it will have to do. We will handle this upon daylight. Rest assured, it WILL be handled. There is nothing that can’t be solved with a solid bit of diplomacy!

Day 2; Entry 10

...Well, upon the light of the sun, I am now looking at our first mate for the first time since yesterday evening and, my word… I didn’t foresee quite how badly beaten he would be. The boy has been bloodied and bruised, his face nigh on unrecognizable. He has suffered several broken bones, including his left arm which is now bending in the wrong direction, and ghastly enough, one bone was actually sticking from his leg.

I thought for certain that he must’ve been assaulted by a group of tribalwomen, armed with fierce weaponry, but no… according to my ever-hysterical yeoman, he was taken on singlehandedly by a completely unarmed woman. In fact, if you were to believe his claims, she was entirely nude, save for some kind of red body paint, patterns across her face and torso. 

So their tale goes, she rushed him, violently raking at his eyes. He attempted to combat her, pulling out a pistol, but before he could do anything with it, she disabled him, a knee to the groin and a headbutt to his face. That was seemingly all she needed to do to defeat him, but she pounced on his prone body and continued to ravage him. Allegedly, his broken arm came after being thoroughly squeezed between her thick, steely, bared thighs.

If you’re wondering where that bit of color came from, it is because our captain seemed to take an odd pleasure in describing her body. According to him she was a shapely sort, with rounded hips and large breasts which he took particular joy in watching sway with her attacks. Understandably the others were repulsed by the tone he took when recalling the story, though I must say I… no, best not finish that sentence. Actually, I didn’t need to reveal any of that. Should remember to edit this part out once it’s been published into a best-seller!

I of course asked why in blazes they didn’t help the poor man, but supposedly they were being pulled away by the rest of the sieging women, and it seems they tried their best not to get into similar conflicts. In other words, they allowed themselves to be bullied out of their own vessel… they weren’t certain what else happened to our first mate in there but they say that he himself was tossed forcibly onto the shore with the rest of his injuries. 

Our ship doctor has treated him as best as could be expected without the brunt of his supplies, but I do so worry for the poor unfortunate. This has added a spark of urgency to things, as we must hasten our efforts to converse with the locals and get our ship back, the man needs proper  treatment. And no matter how brutal this attack may seem, I still hold that they likely thought they were merely protecting their homes and families. With the right approach, I am certain that simple civil discourse will win out. We shall reach a peaceful understanding… there is no reason whatsoever to fear these women. Because after all, I, Mark Wallerberry

...Okay, I was just pulled away for a moment, just as I was finishing up this entry. We have a... bit of an update on the first mate’s status. It would appear that on top of everything else the poor man went through, he has also lost both testicles in the altercation. Deliberately smashed until they were ruptured via repeated blunt force trauma, according to the aforementioned doctor.

Perhaps exercising a healthy dose of caution is wise.

Day 3; Entry 11

To great hesitance from the rest of the crew, I was able to convince them to finally trek into the jungle. For the sake of the injured who we had to leave behind, I was able to get them to see sense and try to retrieve our boat. Although some needed some less coaxing than others, as the captain seemed more and more interested in meeting these Amazons. Rather, these indigenous peoples, excuse me. Definitely going to edit that one… quite the mental lapse there.

Regardless of his sudden fascination with the entailed danger, I was able to lead them without conflict to the village in question over the last day, having expertly retraced my steps back to the locale. They were as stunned as I to look upon the beautiful sight of this civilization… the captain, even moreso. In spite of his excited requests to go in first, I was able to convince him to stay behind me as we made our way in. He was becoming a bit embarrassing… and his rowdiness would no doubt end in disaster if he couldn’t keep it contained. Perhaps we should’ve left him to look after our first mate… alas, there is no going back now. 

The time has finally come. The moment I cease typing this and close my laptop, we shall peacefully step inside the village and make our presence known. I, Mark Wallerberry, could not be more excited. History awaits!

Day 3; Entry 12

Ah, this has gone swimmingly! Certainly, the villagers were wary at first, no surprise there. But I have been in this situation many a time before. I am always able to come to an understanding with any type of person, for that is simply how amiable I must be… 

From our formation, or perhaps through sheer charisma, they correctly ascertained that I was the group’s leader. I could tell by their body language and various signals, honed from years of expertise. They kept spears to us, which again is nothing new for me, though my crew was scared witless, blindly following along with my lead. If only they had resigned themselves to that earlier, we would be in a much better spot. Our first mate might still have his manhood!

To this end, they have taken us in to the largest hut in the village, to see what I can surmise is their leader. She doesn’t seem to be home at the moment, but we are patiently sitting here and waiting to be honored by her presence. She must be the wisest and most diplomatic of them all, so I’ve little doubt that once she comes in, we should be able to

Day 3; Entry 13

These women are brute savages.

As I was typing that last entry, the tribal chief came in and grabbed me in a full nelson, dragging me away from the hut. Her power was unbelievable, I couldn’t do a damn thing as I wriggled and pulled against her muscular arms. Never had I felt so weak then in her grasp.

My crew of course remained worthless, similarly being taken by her guards, our captain in particular offering basically no resistance, looking far too excited for his own good as he was held tightly and pulled roughly, manhandled by the scantily-clad amazons. And yes, I am saying it now, there’s no doubt they live up to every single stereotype, from appearance to behavior to culture.

They have taken us through the jungle, into what appears to be a large arena. Many tribal women have surrounded the area, like an audience here to spectate a slaughter. The inference is clear, they expect us to partake in combat. It seemed that we were the only men on the entirety of this blasted Isla de Sieviešu Dominēšana. The contempt in their eyes seems to reflect that they are aware of this, and seem hateful towards our very gender. In particular, the senseless growing bulge in our captain’s pants earns many a venom-filled glare. And the fool only gets all the more eager every time…

I am being forced to watch, in a line behind my crew, as we are being pushed out into the arena one by one, with me as seemingly the one to go last. Our poor terrified yeoman was the first to go, as they roughly ripped off his clothes before shoving him into the warpath, where an ‘opponent’ already awaited him. In spite of her feminine figure, she was twice his size… these women were simply built differently from the ground up, as far as our knowledge of women, nay human beings in general goes.

The most bizarre, yet infuriating thing about all of this is that they aren’t mindless. In fact, somehow, some of them seem to know enough English to communicate with us. All that they have said however is that if we wish to exist on this island, we must either succeed in martial combat or perish… and, of course, they relayed the information that they demand all battle be done in the nude. My captain’s eyes lit up at this… my only consolation in all this is getting to see him taken to.

...I say that from spite, but I have no interest in seeing any of us get hurt. We’re all about to become just like our poor first mate. Injured and bleeding and dying in severe agony. And for what? For trying to shine a spotlight on them? For attempting to show the world that they aren’t the destructive she-beasts that they were assumed to be? What a fool’s errand this was… finally, my noble cause has doomed me like everyone always warned…

My God. As I type this, I am seeing our poor yeoman’s demise. He perhaps wisely made no attempt to fight and simply bowed at the bare feet of his voluptuous, yet steely aggressor. His plan to appease her and visibly submit rather than take her on physically didn’t pay off… her rage only seemed to grow, as she began relentlessly stomping on his back, her powerful legs pounding. A soccer-style kick to the stomach hit with so much ferocity that he began to retch, his ribs bruising from the lone shot. 

Grabbing him by the hair, she yanked him up to his knees and floored him with a forearm shot to the face, shattering his nose on contact. There’s so much blood… and she’s showing no mercy, continuing to stomp him as I write this. I would love to help, but I know the ravenous, cheering audience would likely swarm on me and rip me limb-from-limb.

This is too much… this is far, far too much. We’re being kept in a hut just on the skirts of this arena, signified by a perfect circle laid out in stone. I can see the door… the guards are watching the ‘fight’ and as I’m at the back of the line, I’m the furthest away. I begrudge having to abandon my crew but… someone must survive this. I believe the entire tribe is watching this so if I can rush out of here, there may not be anyone out there to impede me on my way to hopefully finding our ship.

I am bracing myself now… I hope my honed speed is enough to save my life.

Day 3; Entry 14

I’m in so mch pain..barly brethe....so scared. Help. typig to nobody. It hurts…

...Trying to calm donw, type less frantic. Need to be legible…

My attempt to run completely failed. The guard was so much faster than I expected, she ran me down and tackled me from behind. As I hit the ground, she wrapped her arms around my neck, her powerful legs coiling like boa constrictors around my waist as she wrenched my head back in a brutal choke. 

She didn’t let me pass out, but she did put me to the brink. My head is stll such a fog… eyes hevy… neck is in so much pain. 

When I finally got to enough altertness to be aware of my surroundings, I found that my clothes had been pulled off. I lie entirely naked, shocked that my laptop didn’t break as it hit the dirt. This is hell. This is where I die. I will be slaughtered, physically dissected and dominated by naked woman as a crowd of nearly naked women cheer and jeer and judge my lacking body…. this is now inevitable.

As I type, I watch our ship captain, having just willfully stripped down, walk eagerly into battle. I take back what I said, I truly do hope to see him demolished worse than any of us. His behavior has been insultingly inappropriate. No measure of madness could possibly justify anyone getting some sort of sick pleasure out of this scenario…

But there he is, an idiotic grin on his face as he walks out, hands outstretched and groping like a zombie as he approaches the perfect specimen of feminine might that stands before him, his unbelievably present erection bobbing. He seems to be soaking in the jeers of the surrounding women who are presenting lewd gestures that seem to be mocking the meager size of his rock solid member. And even that is obviously doing nothing to quell his libido, in fact he seems to enjoy it as well… what a true madman.

The warrioress stands proud, unamused at his lecherous intent. But she did nothing as he came near, and to my bewilderment, had the gall to grab her enormous breasts, squeezing and kneading them, revealing their softness in contrast to the steely body the amazon otherwise possessed. Now, as his greedy hands are working their way around her muscular frame to her similarly large and welcoming backside, she’s drawing her leg back, slowly pulling it as far back as it would possibly go, showing some intense flexibility in the process.

...Even as I type this next paragraph, I’m still in disbelief that it happened. This statuesque, naked she-demon proceeded to kick him in the groin with so very much force and power that he was sent off of his feet, flying several feet high up into the air. He then landed, crotch-first on her still raised leg, his soft, small, bared testicles landing on her thick, iron shin. His pained cry was hideous, up until she snuffed it out with a tight grasp of his throat. She strangled him, as he continued to straddle her leg, his genitals grinding against it as she repeatedly bounced him up and down on her powerful limb like a small child.

Finally she slammed him by the throat onto the dirt. She mounted him, sitting on his stomach as she rained down punches, obliterating his face. After a good dozen or so blows, she stood up only to leap up and drive her ass down onto his head with frightening force. As she wiggled her hips, grinding her soft cheeks into his ruined face, she leaned forward and, making use of her height, proceeded to punch him repeatedly in the groin, her solid fists battering his dick and balls into a bloody pulp.

She rose to a raucous cheer. She said something to the crowd, and several of them threw out these jagged, stone knives, half a dozen or so littering the arena. She picked one of them up, and… I can’t believe I’m typing this, why am I typing this? Does it give me some kind of comfort to put it to word and prove in some small way that I’m not just seeing things? Does it make it easier for my brain to process it this way? 

All I can do is recount it, even if I can barely comprehend that I watched it happen. All I can do is write down the fact that she knelt down and took that knife to his groin, and with a single deft slash ripped off his member so that she could take it up and show it to the adoring audience, giving their loudest cheer yet to this display of castration. Never has anything more gruesome happened right before my eyes. 

For all my resentment towards the captain, I couldn’t feel any comfort at seeing him there, his face unrecognizable and covered in blood, his body spasming as his cock was removed from him and all the while he was conscious, and…

...Still smiling.

This entire thing was horrifying… a surreal scene far beyond anything my travels had shown me. So many women, of muscular yet voluptuous scantily-clad bodies roaring their delight over the mutilation of a man’s genitals as his tormentor literally stood upon his fallen body, like some gladiatorial champion. I’d gone back in time to an age of barbarism… and yet, somehow, these women were intelligent enough to speak English and steal our boat so that we would have no means of escaping this vile bloodsport they called a life.

And even after this, it still wasn’t finished. She callously tossed his penis aside and unleashed a series of stomps upon his prone form, and with every blow there was a sickening crunch. With her bare foot, she was breaking bone and snapping cartilage… I’m certain she shattered his elbow as she did this. The unparalleled strength and relentless brutality was like something out a horror film.

Like he was nothing, she picked his lifeless body off of the ground, hoisting him up above her head like a trophy to another ovation from the bloodthirsty crowd. She dropped him onto her leg, his back colliding with her rising, muscular knee. His body caved in hideously around her leg, as though his spine had been split in two. Holding him on her leg, she hoisted him up again only to roughly toss him facefirst into the dirt.

Somehow, that still wasn’t enough for her, nor for the demanding crowd that seemed to be calling for his head in their mother tongue. So the warrioress acquiesced, kneeling onto his body and wrapping her overbearing legs around his head. Her thighs were so very thick that they enveloped his whole cranium. She began to squeeze and only then did life seem to return to him, ever-so-fleetingly. He quivered and struggled, his arms and legs flailing in unbelievable pain, perhaps only as a reflex as the shattered spine would otherwise mean certain death or paralysis. She adjusted herself, laying on her back as she kept his head clenched tightly… his face was now forced to bear down onto her naked pussy as she continued to choke the life out of him.

She’s been howling and grinding his head between her thighs for several minutes, and finally the movement ceases as he’s no doubt lost all oxygen betwixt her muscular legs. And even still she continues to

Jesus no. 

Crushed. His head. She crushed… his head, bursting… between her legs…

Not real. Not meant to be real. None of this is supposed to be real, people like this don’t exist. Places like this are the thing of myth. Strength like this is the stuff of legend. She continues to squeeze, enjoying the feeling of what remained of his cranium betwixt her thighs. Crowd deafening, approval of this macabre massacre. I wished for his pain… but his suffering only brings me agony.

Heart racing, pulse pounding… a throbbing in my head. The realization… dawning slowly yet mercilessly wholly. 

I’m next. 

Oh God I’m next there’s no one left in front of me im next I am about to die there is no escape no running no survival i will fight i can only struggle and flail and die but i will fight and it wont matter i cant do this im not ready to go none of them even tried to fight and i wont go quietly but i am about to die why am i still writing

Calling for me. Calling for my head on a spike. Or perhaps my genitals on a plate. And I have to go out there and let it happen.

Day 6; Entry 15

I’ve only just now regained the use of my fingers, well enough to type. I’m not certain I haven’t been here longer than six days, that’s just how many I can recall. I have no idea how long I was out for. I may have been in a coma for a week before awakening. My entire body continues to ache…

I look back on past entries and weep and groan and hiss at my arrogance. What was I thinking? How could I have been so headstrong and foolish? How self-absorbed can one man truly be? I was a glory hound. I know I was. I’d like… I’d like to think there was more to it than that. On some level I do think I had good intentions, even if I unmistakably wanted to be famous and heralded as a progressive hero. But what does it matter anymore? I’m never leaving this place alive. These messages are never getting out to anyone. I’m just writing for the sake of sanity, as it’s not as though anyone here will speak to me. They might bark orders or berate me, but there’s no conversation to be had.

Not because they lack the intelligence, but because they look at me as something less than human. To them, I am nothing. They consider me worthless. And I suppose compared to them, physically, I am…

The events swirl through my head over and over. Was there anything I could’ve done differently? From the time they took my ship to the point where I stepped foot in that accursed arena, was there any way out? Was there any saving me or anyone on my crew? Sometimes I still wish I would’ve ran rather than face the music in that coliseum of dirt… but I know for a fact I’d have been caught and beaten worse.

But then, maybe if I had done that, maybe if I had acted the same as cohorts… maybe they would’ve killed me. I don’t know why they allow me to live. They murdered the others… I’m alone. Their plaything. And that’s exactly how I was used in there. 

I feel that beating everywhere, as if I’d just experienced it as I type this. I… suppose I should recall the events. But I truly don’t feel up to it. Perhaps another day, if they allow it.

Day 8; Entry 16

My life is a mockery. They keep me alive just so I can continue to amuse them. The past two days have been a constant beating… 

They continue to force me into combat, teasing me with freedom if I win. I fight, because otherwise I’d just be beaten worse. I have no belief in my escape. I know that I will lose no matter who I am up against, and even if I did defeat them, I had no faith in any honor they may show. 

They’ve pounded my weakness into me. Taking me to the ground in a handful of strikes and sweeps… these women, their elite, they move so fast… I can’t even see them, beyond a blur of tan flesh. They laugh as I fall… from what I could tell, they seemed to be making a game out of how quickly they could topple me. 

My pride was once so overbearing. Now it’s dwindled to nothing. They burned my clothes, and refuse to let me cover myself. I’m under constant surveillance by the guards, and when night falls to drench me in endless cold, shrinking my manhood, they never fail to point and laugh at my member. Yesterday I spent an hour with my face buried under the ass of one of the amazons, as she bounced up and down on me and laughed giddily. I’ve been stripped of my dignity and emasculated beyond all comprehension.

And my pain never ceases… they keep striking the same injuries, though some are more obvious than others. It stuns me that I still seem to have two functioning testicles. These women truly adore kicking men in the groin. 

They want me for another ‘fight’ now… a continued exhibition of their impossible strength and athletic superiority. 

Day 8; Entry 17

It got worse. 

Just after I finished typing about this, they drug me away. I expected another of their elite, the muscular, statuesque powerhouses; the kind that obliterated the captain’s head and scrotum, the kind that relentlessly murdered the others, the kind that demolished me when I dared step foot into their arena. 

Instead, I saw a woman shorter and skinnier than I. She lacked the same intensity in her expression that the others showed, in fact she looked nervous. Her eyes darted around self-consciously as she pulled off her leather skirt and matching top, instinctively hiding her crotch and generous breasts for a few moments. The confidence was lacking, it seemed clear she had nowhere near the training that most of the others had, and it seemed likely she had never even been in a fight before, given her demeanor. 

This seemed like some kind of joke, but the overseers were as serious about pushing me into this fight as any, again giving me the same line that if I won, I’d be freed. For once, I felt a tinge of hope that I could indeed come out on top in battle.

...I was wrong. I charged at her with a fist reared back and in her panic she just threw her hands up, a flail that smacked me under the chin with shocking power. It stopped me in my tracks and stunned me long enough for her to deliver an uncoordinated punch to my jaw that, with even half-decent technique, likely would’ve knocked me out with how much strength was packed into it. Instead, it merely put me on the floor, on my front.

She proceeded to send down a few wild stomps, two hitting my back and the other seemingly accidentally smashing quite embarrassingly into my backside. And just to remind me the caliber of fighter I was up against, on that third stomp she lost her balance and tripped to her back with a high pitched yelp of shock. 

We both got to our feet again at the same time, and I was furious, boiling with a shame that I thought I’d lost. Somehow they had gotten me to sink even lower, and none of them even looked shocked, showing just what they thought of me from the beginning. I put my hands out and tried to overpower her, as she returned, locking arms with me, her lip quivering in worry. 

But no. This young woman, who couldn’t have been older than 18, putting her nearly twenty years younger than I, significantly shorter than me and built like an untrained college student, was still stronger than me. With ease, she pushed me back and eventually shoved me to the ground, mounting me on the floor. She grabbed my left arm as the overseers barked instructions. She was fumbling with me, bending my arm in directions it clearly wasn’t about to go… uncomfortable, but clearly not what she was trying to do. Her instructors seemed aggravated, and her nerves continued to mount as she was failing to lock in some submission hold. But for as long as it took, my struggles never amounted to an escape, I couldn’t even take advantage.

Eventually she figured out what she was doing, rolled me onto my front and shoved my arm into my back, straightened out painfully. As I flailed, she began to repeatedly thrust her knee between my legs in a clear bit of frantic improvisation, her kneecap bouncing off my ever-swollen testicles time and again. 

Tears fell down my cheeks as I slammed my free hand against the floor, tapping out as it were, the universal sign of submission. Every other ‘fight’ I had ended in me being knocked out and violently awoken moments later. I could atleast say I didn’t stop swinging until the end. But no, not this time… this girl wasn’t able to knock me out. So instead, she forced me to quit, an even more decisive victory in many ways. 

She was ecstatic as she released me, jumping up and down with so much vigor that her own huge bouncing breasts actually smacked her in the chin, startling her and causing her to trip again… and she somehow fell on top of me, her ass smashing right into my face. Her bared cheeks grinded and wriggled on me as she flailed, they seemed to struggle pulling her off of me, on purpose, no doubt.

It couldn’t have possibly been a more humiliating experience. Truly, they had sicced their weakest on me and still I had no real chance. As I laid there, cradling my scrotum, I couldn’t help but focus on how thoroughly neutered I’d become, figuratively though somehow not literally. 

For once I am happy this journal won’t go out to the public, as otherwise I would never want to recount this story. I’m merely writing it to give something to do as I heal and await my next torment.

And indeed this was nothing but torment. They truly seemed to want my every thought to be dominated by how furiously weak I was in comparison to them, how helpless I was to escape my dire strait. This was far more than some savages feeling threatened, protecting their people or their territory, or even wild animals looking for a meal. They kept me alive purely to beat and humiliate me, for their amusement. How could any people come to be so sadistic, so unfeeling? The various members of my crew were the lucky ones…

Speaking of which, I saw the body of my first mate earlier, drug from the beach. He’d died from his previous injuries by then… truly this is an island removed from hope. 

Day 10; Entry 18

It’s… been a very long time since my last emission. I’ve become so pent up that I’m finally unable to stop staring… I shan’t be coy about it. These women are the most beautiful and relentlessly sexy specimens I’d ever laid eyes on. What a shame that they would be such vile creatures… 

I still resent my captain’s lechery, but I am beginning to understand. He might’ve been more pent up than I, and… well it’s easy to see how they would play to certain fetishes. I’m not the type but, it’s becoming increasingly impossible for me to will away my erections. They give me no privacy to relieve this… they just stare and smirk as my cock rises.

Day 11; Entry 19

I finally got some time alone and swiftly began to masturbate… I tried to just picture their bodies alone, but the soreness in my testicles came back as I began to pump and… it didn’t seem to be working. My libido was dying, despite how desperately my manhood craved a release. As I kept trying, my mind went to images of their destruction of my body… and, strangely, that made it easier. I can’t explain it, but I definitely got harder the more I focused on the cause of every ache that I was feeling.

This was interrupted when a guard came in, and I immediately stopped, frightened of what she might do if she saw me masturbating in her presence. To my surprise, she showed no anger, in fact… she began to… pose. Flexing mostly, but also puffing her womanly chest out, and turning around to show me her firm backside… I wasn’t sure what to make of it, it was just so unexpected to see her do that. 

Then, she got agitated… she made this obscene gesture towards my cock and… posed again. Hesitantly, I touched myself and began to masturbate once again… and she smiled. She wanted me to do it. I pleasured myself to the incredible sight of her immaculate body and within minutes I came. It had been so long, and well… she was so beautiful, I came hard and so very much. She looked overjoyed, rushing out as if she needed to tell the others of what had transpired. But it’s been a few hours and since then, I’ve heard nothing from them. I have no idea whether or not I should be worried.

Day 12: Entry 20

The “fight” went quite differently today… and indeed, I said fight singular, as there was only the one. They pit me up against the same guard that I masturbated to yesterday… as we grappled, she pushed her hip into my nethers to setup a judo throw, but she did it much more gently than others had… and as she grabbed my wrist and pulled my arm forward, I swear for a split second she forced my hand onto one of her heaving breasts before throwing me onto my back. 

She continued manhandling me, picking me up off the floor and doubling me over. She hunched over and ended up resting her huge breasts onto the back of my head, letting me feel their soft smoothness and remarkable weight, as together they were definitely bigger than my head. She buried fierce kneelifts into my stomach, and after four of them… my cock began to rise. For the first time, I actually became aroused during a fight. 

As if she had been looking for it all along, she immediately paused to point it out to the others, who all seemed to react positively. She then surprised me with a legsweep that took me to my knees, my erection ended up pressed against the floor… especially after she pressed her foot down onto it. She didn’t stomp it thankfully, as that would’ve snapped it right in half. Instead, she grinded against my shaft, creating a stunning amount of friction in the process… she continually ran her foot up and down my penis, and… it felt wonderful. It hurt a little bit it felt far better than I ever would’ve expected. She posed, flexing her powerful arms as her foot worked me over to another climax… 

I fell limp to the floor, spent from this as the other amazons celebrated the feat with the victor. Apparently, making me cum was an alternate win condition for these women in these battles all along. They escorted me back to my sleeping quarters and left me alone.

...I’m… starting to understand.

Day 16; Entry 21

They leave me alone a lot more often these days… today was the first in a long while I’ve gone without one of their forced fights. They seem to only focus on milking me of cum when they do happen, but today I’ve only seen flashes of flesh from the little hole in the hut that constitutes a window… teases, really. My balls haven’t been struck in a while, which makes my arousal a lot more frequent, and yet they aren’t tending to me now…

So I’ve decided I want something else to fap to, other than my imagination. Did… I really just use the word ‘fap’? My, I’m becoming a lot more crass… ah well, suppose that was inevitable. Either way… I just realized I still never documented the time I stepped into the arena and got destroyed. Was that really two full weeks ago already…? My God. I can’t decide if time has moved quickly or slowly ever since I got to this island. It’s an odd feeling.

Regardless, I’ve somehow looped around to it bringing me joy to think about that painful encounter. And my memory seems to be slipping from me, I need to use the journal just to recall why I came here in the first place. (I no longer understand why I used to say my own name so much...) So with that in mind… let me put myself back in that time… before it escapes me...

Yes… I walked out into the arena, amidst jeers from the raucous, half-topless crowd, berating my middling penis and skinny-fat body. There before me was the largest and yet, sexiest of them all… the Amazon Tribal Chief. She was truly like something out of a fantasy… she must’ve stood a little over seven feet tall, her body thick in all the right places… she exuded power and confidence to infinity. She flexed before me, and her muscles were grander than any I’d ever seen up close… and then, she relaxed, and it was though her body transformed, becoming so smooth and supple and unmistakably feminine…

In hindsight, I’m astounded that I wasn’t struck by it at the time. I was so focused on surviving, so afraid and appalled by what I’d seen, that I was able to push away the obvious… I had never in all my years seen a woman so inescapably, overpoweringly sexy. But no, I swore that I would fight… after all, I’d seen the others fall and none of them even threw a punch as far as I could tell. One of us had to go down swinging and it could only be me at that stage.

So… that’s what I did… I charged her and swung my fist. She didn’t move a muscle. I had planned to hit her square in the jaw, but I think my shot would’ve actually lacked power if I was forced to extend that high, so instead I punched her in the stomach. I swear to you… my knuckles were sore after bouncing off her washboard abdomen. She flexed again, showing off an honest-to-God eight pack of abs… making my lack of any definition seem quite pathetic.

Her body was truly something… she was so much taller than me, her tits were actually level with my face. With her every movement, they jiggled and swayed and bounced so magnificently… and there I was, repeatedly trying to punch her stomach like a fool. When that failed, I instead aimed my attacks towards her soft tits, and saw them bounce and jiggle massively from the blows, but she laughed, seemingly enjoying this. 

Finally, she answered with a jumping thrust kick that nailed my scrotum with so much force, it actually knocked my lower body out from under me and I fell facefirst to the dirt. With one blow she’d delivered more pain to me than I’d ever felt in my life, I thought for certain my testicles had ruptures on the spot. But I think, she might’ve trained to avoid such a thing… I think all of the amazons might somehow know a testicles exact breaking point, and how to inflict max pain without destroying it until they want to. 

She knelt down, painfully digging her elbows into the small of my back for a minute or so, before wrapping her impossibly powerful arms around my waist and picking me up, deadlifting me with ease. She bent over, rearing forward, before tossing me over her head in a mighty throw. I sailed several feet backwards, landing roughly on my ass. 

The greek goddess was on me before I could do anything, again getting me in her tight grip, this time from behind. She lifted me up from the ground to the air, before flipping me over her head once again, tossing me right onto my head and neck. How it didn’t snap my neck is truly beyond me. 

Fair to say, the fight was already long over, as I had already lost what little fighting spirit I had mustered. But she persisted, effortlessly throwing me around the arena like I was weightless. I was a ragdoll in her arms.

This sequence ended with her yet again deadlifting me, and this time forcing me onto her shoulders, my back splayed across the back of her thick neck. She had one arm around my neck and the other hooked between my legs, and she began to wrench down painfully, as though she was trying to snap me in half across her shoulders. She leaped up and down wildly, several feet up into the air, and her breasts bounced powerfully as she stretched my spine to it’s very limits… mmm, excuse me, I have to fap…

...Right, as I was saying… she tortured my body. And yet, I didn’t give up back then… after all, as far as I knew I would die as soon as I was considered officially beaten. Plus, it’s not as if I knew they would be aware of the concept of ‘tapping out’ anyway, I didn’t discover that until later. 

When she was done destroying my back, she flipped me off of her shoulders. I was about to land facefirst into the dirt, but instead my jaw met her rising knee, a brutal shot that made full use of momentum to dislocate my jaw and knock a few teeth down my throat.

Still not done with my useless body, she grabbed me by the hair and pulled me roughly to my feet. I was almost unconscious as she forced me over to the arena wall, smashing my aching back painfully into the solid ceramic. The fans eagerly reached out to slap me and scrape at my face, holding my shoulders to keep me upright as the Chief used my stomach like her personal punching bag, her fists pounding my midsection until it was covered with bruises. 

She capped this flurry off with a straight kick to my testicles, showing perfect aim as the top of her large foot blasted them both equally, hitting me with enough force to take me off the ground, even with the fans holding me down to force me to absorb as much of that impact as possible. For a moment, I actually thought she had kicked my nuts into my throat as the saying goes, I truly had the wind knocked out of me in addition to the unimaginable pain. And I wasn’t even allowed to fall, I could only stare forward at those jiggling breasts as she decimated me…

Once again, she grabbed me by the hair, yanking me away from the groping hands of the audience to again force me into the center of the arena. With an athletic twirl, she caught with me a vicious spin kick, her bare heel smashing powerfully into my face, taking me facefirst onto the ground. Swiftly, she leapt onto me, her voluptuous ass landing solidly on the small of my back. 

She proceeded to reach forward and grab my arms and pull them back, trying to yank them out of socket. As she held me by the wrists under her arms, stretching my back out at this point as well, she reached back and grabbed my ankles as well, pulling my legs towards her… my body was being bent like it was never meant to. This complicated submission threaten to break my limbs and sever my spine all at once. The pain was utterly hellish. And yet now, all I can focus on is how nice her ass felt as it grinded against my flesh…

She kept me in this for, probably a minute or so but it felt like hours. Finally, she released me and stood up, before delivering a furious punt kick to my crotch, hitting me with enough force that it flipped me onto my back. She proceeded to jump up and, before I could cover myself, land assfirst on my face, her soft cheeks encompassing my head as she reached forward and forcibly spread my legs. Her ass was truly wonderful, so large and soft and smooth as it pushed heavily against my head… and as she did this, she delivered a brutal punch to my already wrecked balls.

The chief raised her fist proudly into the air to the deafening cheers, before driving her elbow deep into my groin, my entire body buckling as the lightning strike of pain emitted from my crotch and spread through my stomach. She raised her opposite fist triumphantly, before sending THAT elbow into my nads as well… fuck me, she was a machine, a machine built for sex and pain.

She stood up and allowed me to weep and wallow in misery as I went into a fetal position on the ground. She marched away, only to start running towards me, getting an incredible head of steam. I can almost still feel the cold chill of fear that ran down my damaged spine as she ran my way, her breasts bouncing overwhelmingly as she picked up an unbelievable velocity. She leapt into the air, and performed a wicked dropkick, the bottoms of her barefeet slamming into my face like they were shot out of a cannon, and this finally knocked me out on the spot.

Lord above… she was magnificent. Every woman on this island is magnificent. I love it here so much… I was born to serve. I was born to be a slave to these women…

Day ?; Entry ?

Who cares what day it is I REACHED MY DREAM! Today was so wonderful I can’t believe it’s real what a fantasy

The chief… she was there when I woke up and immediately I became aroused. She smiled, stripping off her clothes. I thought she was going to beat me again but no, it was even better… she climbed on top of me and took my pulsing member into her sweet womanhood! She fucked me! She fucked me! She fucked me right there! Thrusting and groaning, her remarkably tight wet pussy rocked my goddamn world! I came within seconds, the greatest orgasm of my entire life, but she didn’t care, continuing on and my cock didn’t falter at all!

Up and down, up and down… she took me, her tits swinging madly all the while… she went so hard that the makeshift bed beneath me gave way. Neither of us cared as she continued rocking me on the ground. I came time and time again… it was a dream come true. She didn’t stop until she was satisfied, coming to a loud, shuddering climax of her own.

As she got off of me, only then did I see the others had gathered around us, watching intently. They all spoke out, and the Chief singled one out. She looked happy, the others disappointed. As they left, the one she pointed to was the last to go, waving and smirking at me…

She’s next… she’s going to fuck me next! 

This is how they exist! They pick a man, the strongest out of whatever batch they get and they beat and shame them until they become submissive, before passing his cock around the village for every woman to ride, birthing the next generation! And I’m that cock! That living cock that exists to serve them! I’m that cock or my name isn’t Mick Walberg! Oh God I’m so happy I could cry... 

I wish now I could share this to the world. I wish I could let everyone know of what could await them… come to this island, whatever it was called… and if you can prove yourself to them, heaven awaits…!