Prologue.
Extract from the London Times.
The Times, 12th December 1991.
Plane crash in Congolese forest.
On Sunday, a light aeroplane piloted by Fred Simpson, CEO of Union Oil was believed to have gone down in the heart of the former Belgium Congo now called the Democratic Republic of Congo. Contact with the plane was lost after government officials received a mayday call. Mister Simpson reported engine problems in his radio transmission that lasted for a few seconds only. Travelling with Mister Simpson 34 from Dorking, Surrey was his wife Jessica 32 and their five-year-old daughter Emma. Search teams have so far found no trace of the aircraft; a six-year-old Piper Chipmunk owned by Mister Simpson. Teams have scoured the area from coordinates given shortly before contact was lost. Mr. and Mrs. Simpson who have been married for eight years, recently moved to Bumba to take up his £250K position the headquarters of Union Oil. They were travelling to Kindu on business. Mister Simpson was an experienced pilot. The search continues.
Extract from the London Times
The Times, 16th December 1991.
Search teams are still scouring the area where a light aircraft belonging to Mr Simpson, CEO of Union Oil was believed to have gone down with engine failure. A spokesman for the rescue teams said that unless they are found soon, hope would quickly fade for finding any survivors. The forest can reach temperatures as high as forty degrees during the day and as low as five at night with humidity as high as ninety percent. John Grant, who has temporarily taken control at the helm of Union Oil, major employers in the Bumba region, said today that, “Every effort and no expense is being spared in the search.”
Extract from the London Times
The Times, 28th December 1991
The search for the stricken light aircraft, believed to have gone down in the jungle between Bumba and Kindu has been called off. “Hope of finding wreckage or survivors was like finding a needle in a haystack,” said the newly appointed CEO of Union Oil, John Grant; 50. He went on to say that “Mister Simpson would be a great loss to the company. It is a tragedy for the family, our thoughts and prayers are with them.” A memorial service is due to be held in the private chapel of Union Oil. The news of Mister Simpson’s death has prompted a significant fall in the stock price of Union Oil, falling to $120.60, a fall of $2.80 overnight. The aircraft, a Piper Chipmunk, was last heard from when Government officials, working at a listening post in an unnamed location, received a mayday call. They reported that Mister Simpson complained of an engine problem. The aircraft disappeared from radar screens soon afterwards. No wreckage has been found at the last coordinates given; rescue attempts have been hampered by dense forest. Relatives are travelling to Bumba to attend the memorial service.
Extract from the Financial Times
The Times 18th February 1993
Union Oil has called in receivers to administer the company. The share value has recently plummeted to $0.60 since the untimely death of the former CEO Fred Simpson a little over a year ago. The company has amassed debts of nearly sixty million US dollars. More than 10,000 employees have been locked out. “It is a disaster for the area which already has high unemployment levels.” Said a local official. “Many are already on the poverty line. It is a shock to the community.” John Grant, who stepped into the shoes of Fred Simpson as CEO has fled the country. Price Waterhouse Limited, who have raised some concerns over financial dealings, but were unavailable for comment, will start an immediate inquiry.
Several years later…..
Extract from African Diaries.
Sunday Times: African Correspondent: Tony Roach: Kinshasa: Republic of Congo.
March 2005.
Rumours of a wild woman had been passed from tribe to tribe for many years, but no one has actually caught sight of her. They call her the ghost woman, leaving nothing more than a vague idea, an impression, that she had just been there, but now, was gone without trace. Many years ago, Tribeswomen said they could hear the sound of a crying child in the forest, but even their best trackers could find no trace of the mysterious child. Over time, she passed into legend and was named the white spirit of the forest or Ghost Woman by the local villagers. Catholic missionaries, who working in the inhospitable region of the deep forest, adapting Christianity to live alongside the tribal belief system, played down the myth as nothing more than women’s washboard gossip.
Such rumours abound in a people steeped in suspicion and local mythology. It is hard to believe that a modern day Tarzan could exist without a support network. The modern man is not equipped to survive…
Familiar stomach cramps woke her from a light doze. They signified the onset of her menstruation and a week of being pestering by the males of the troupe. Slowly, with infinite care, she climbed down from her bedding of twisted and bent branches, dropping to the forest floor soundlessly. Mist still hung around the trunks and underbrush, waiting to be burned off by the shafts of searing sunlight that penetrated the canopy.
She stretched sinuously, feeling the surge of life flow through her body; her yawn heralded the new day.
Her toughened feet noiselessly trod over the detritus of the forest floor to an area, a little way from their sleeping place, so she could defecate and bury her leavings in the soft soil.
Unlike the others, she washed her body in the cool stream that ran close by, splashing her self with the cold water until her blonde downy fur darkened and matted in small arrow shapes directed by the flow of water as it was shed from her skin. She cupped some in her hands and drew it over her face, feeling the refreshing zing as nerve ends responded to the shock. She cupped another double palm full and drank greedily, savouring the coldness as it slid down her throat.
Another pang of cramp momentarily crippled her.
The troupe was waking, grunts and yawns echoed, announcing the start of their day. Perhaps it would be a trek to find a small group of fig trees that should be fruiting about now or a raid on a termite mound, it all depended on the matriarch’s mood. She was now into her fortieth year, a grandmother and very much the leader despite the silver-back’s ideas.
She had only enough time to shake out her matted hair before some of the younger adolescent males found her. Led by their noses, following her pheromone scent trail. It was as if a switch had been turned on. The three young males started to cavort in front of her, beating their chests in a display of strength, pushing each other out of the way I order to be central to her vision.
It was an all too familiar and common event. Unlike the females of the troupe, her ovulation took place on a much more regular cycle, bringing her into heat twelve times a year. She wouldn’t be ready to mate for a few days once the cramps started, but then, she would be the centre of attention. Trouble broke out though when the silver back found the younger males paying too much attention to her. The resultant display of tree thrashing, chest beating and screamed rage upset the whole group for several days. It always ended with him claiming the prize, fucking her repeatedly for three of four days until neither of them had any energy left or were so hungry that the need for food replaced the urge to mate. She had a day or two at best before the onslaught would take place. Not that she minded the attention, far from it, during these phases; her own body clock was insisting she mate as often as possible. In gorilla terms she was middle aged with no young to look after. At a fundamental level, she felt time was running out and couldn’t understand why their frantic copulation had so far, not produced even a pregnancy. Perhaps this time, she would be successful. It didn’t seem to bother the silver back. He continued his imperious day-to-day functions and only took notice of her when she was ovulating or accidentally caught his eye directly where upon, he would frown or huff at her in displeasure.
Eventually, the three adolescents sorted out their pecking order; the winner approached her and tentatively held out his hand, palm up to cup her sex. She batted his arm away but, not before her had drew her scent from between her legs. He sniffed his fingers closely; a blissful look came over his face as her aroma invaded his sinuses. He knew she wasn’t quite ready, but thought to get in before the alpha male had a chance.
He grabbed her skinny arm and spun her around so that he could attempt his entry from the rear. His hard cock lined up with her entrance while he grasped her hips. In one smooth and fluid motion, he pulled her back and shoved forward, his small cock finding the object of his desire, lubricated by his pre-cum and her own natural essences. He began a rapid staccato of thrusts, driving his whole length as far as he could into her body.
She stayed quite still, knowing that if she fought him off or tried to, his immediate anger was likely to send him over the edge and she would be the target. Bent as she was, she could see her small tits as they slapped around, her nipples hardening with the mounting excitement his fucking was creating in her. She might have reached an orgasm, but, suddenly, the branches of an adjacent tree exploded. The silver back smashed his way though, hitting her lover in the middle of his chest with a massive arm. He flew backwards helplessly from the blow, screaming in frustration and fear as the alpha male went into a tirade of uprooting saplings, beating the trunks of trees and roaring his dominance. It went on and on until satisfied that he had made a point, the silver back smashed his forearms down on the hapless youngsters head. The single act of aggression signalled the end of the display and that the younger gorilla should disappear. The silver back sat next to her protectively while the three slinked away mollified.
Once they were alone and his breathing had settled, he too checked her out, pushing a finger into the crevice of her sex before drawing it to his nose and then to his tongue. She would wait he decided, for a day or two yet, but in the meantime, he wouldn’t let her out of his sight.
She rose from her crouching position and headed back to the main group with him only a step or two behind, a position he would be in now until he judged her receptive. The commotion had caused a tension. The females looked at her as she passed them, an enigmatic emotionless glaze over their eyes. Somehow, the indifference was worse than a reaction of any kind. Some of the females turned their backs, the ultimate put down in primate society.
The juvenile males however, were in a state of flux. Her smell was driving them almost to the point of rebellion, but that would be foolhardy, a step too far. Their fear of the silver back didn’t assuage their need to mate. The three had stiff cocks all pointing at her with no release other than to bring themselves to orgasm; hardly a satisfying outcome and in no way fulfilling the basic desire to engender their own young or propagate their own particular gene.
Even the matriarch, who she regarded as mother, treated her with disdain as if she were jealous of her condition and the attention it would undoubtedly bring. Since her very youngest memories, this old lady of the group had looked out for her, fed her and taught her the ways of the forest; what to eat, when and a rudimentary map of the best trees in their home territory. They had grown up together, shared everything until her first season in possibly her twelfth or thirteenth year, six or seven years since being adopted by the troupe. At that time, an abrupt alteration of their bond came about as she became more attractive to the alpha male and was regularly fucked from behind to the exclusion of all others. Perhaps she viewed the strange, almost hairless, white animal as a threat or rival to her hard won position in the group.
They fed from fig trees, spending the rest of the morning gorging on the sweet fruits. Their whole concentration centred on eating enough to fill their pot bellies. Flatulent emissions became a regular occurrence as the mashed fruit began to digest. She could only eat so much fruit before reaching the point of regurgitation, her needs for protein had to be followed so, when the figs were no longer desirable she dropped to the floor in search of grubs under the bark of dead trees that littered the floor. He gave up his prime perch to follow her to the ground, even shared in the hunt for the elusive grubs burrowing deep into the dead tree trunks; offering some to her as a token.
That night, he built her a nest, then, spent the night guarding her, dozing only lightly. Perhaps it would be tomorrow that she would be ready.
She dreamed of holding a small child; bringing it to her breast. Her body clock and the primal urge to reproduce were relentless even in her sleeping hours. Her minds eye pictured a tiny black skinned gorilla hardly larger than her palm. The ache it produced was palpable.
She woke with his fingers exploring her sex, pushing the annoying hair apart and shoving a finger deeply into her vaginal tract. Obviously, he had decided that she was ready to receive him. Effortlessly, he flipped her over so she was kneeling on all fours. His method of preparation was neither delicate nor tender; he shoved two fingers into her to activate her natural lubricants then as her aroma assaulted his nostrils, he reared up on his legs, grabbed her hips and shoved himself inside her.
His fucking was no less brutal than his preamble. He fucked her in a furious riot of thrusts and viciously pulling on her hips back into him. This first time was always a violent assault on her body, but the second and subsequent couplings were rather more sedate, but still furious in pace.
With neither of them gaining satisfaction, he shot his seed into her soundlessly. His penis quickly became flaccid almost as soon as his spend was ejected. She crawled over their bedding to put a small distance between them so that she could catch her breath and recover from the brutalising her body had taken. It was a short lived reprieve, after a short while, he approached her again and violated her vagina with a finger, drawing it across her labia then, over her small bud that always made her shiver and brought her to readiness quicker than any other stimulation.
Willingly this time, she turned over to present her self to him. His inspection took many minutes as he fingered her, then, smelled her sex closely, finally slipping his tongue forward to taste her.
This time, his entry was much less violent. He still guided her movements in two massive black hands that gripped her slender hips and drew her into his groin. She felt his hardness slip between her outer lips and fill her inner being. Unconsciously, she rubbed her clit with two fingers while he thrust into her, her own heat began to build, a tight knot forming in the pit of her stomach until she orgasmed, a confusing collection of nervous responses that culminated in the walls of her tract gripping his cock in a loving embrace that would soon milk his balls dry.
His grunts grew louder as he approached his climax, then, with an ear shattering howl, he filled her womb with his hot seed. They stayed locked in a primal embrace for several minutes until his testicles had completely emptied into her. It was the moment she had desired. Had she at last conceived?
Their fucking had woken the rest. The tension suddenly released in his howl of triumph. The females banded together, their faces all turned to where they were still grunting together while the waves of sexual release passed between them. They waited to see what would happen next.
What did happen was a third coupling that took several minutes more to complete, but also ended in them both screaming their orgasm. Her body was unwilling to take any more afterwards and would not respond to his coaxing fingers, she needed to expunge her body waste and get some rest from his attentions.
She made the ground, closely followed by the silver back. Wisely, the whole troupe kept their gaze averted, not wanting to appear threatening or hostile. In a rare show of compassion, the matriarch took the girl’s shoulders and led her away for a short distance so that she could crouch and clear her body. Once she had covered her waste the old female examined her from top to toe, paying special attention to her sex which was still losing her menstrual blood, but now, was mixed with gorilla sperm. Their eyes met in a silent understanding, she had not yet succeeded in conception. Neither of them knew that it was impossible for the two species to produce; just that she was receptive more often than any other female and it always caused disharmony while she was so attractive to the males. In a human gesture, she shrugged her shoulders and left the female to go to the river that marked their boundary to wash.
Because the matriarch had led her away, the silver back had allowed her out of his sight. It was just the opportunity the younger males had been waiting for. As she washed, engrossed in the pleasure of the cold water, they silently crept up behind her. Two flanked to either side while the eldest of the youngsters came up directly behind her. Their attack, when it came, was a total surprise to her and gave her no time to react. Before she had a chance to scream a warning, her body had been entered by the male directly behind her while the other two held and arm each to prevent her jumping into the water to escape. She was in trouble with little hope of rescue until each had taken her repeatedly. They pawed at her breasts and cunt while one of them thrust into her, then, carefully keeping her captive, they swapped positions until each of them had fucked her twice or more, she wasn’t counting, couldn’t because numbers were something she had no concept of, just emotions, bodily functions and basic needs.
At last, their interest waned. She was no longer responding, just a lump of useless flesh that had lost consciousness and stank of their cum. They left her face down on the bank of the river where she stayed until the silver back eventually came to find her, broken and bleeding.
He identified their stink on her immediately, but gently picked her up with no more effort than a child with a rag doll or outward show of the emotions that surged within. Carefully he carried her back to their enclave and placed her at the feet of the matriarch for her to tend. His rage knew no limit. It took him some time to catch up with the three, but when he did, he didn’t content himself with a display this time, he beat them mercilessly, almost breaking ones arm and inflicting grievous cuts to the hapless youths. There could be no mistake, they were no longer part of the family group, from this moment on; they would have to fend for themselves. It was a day that was inevitable in the long run, but their actions had hastened it.
It took her three days to recover enough to travel and feed properly. Her period had passed, but she was still not gravid despite having taken more sperm than her body could cope with.
– The End –