'The Painted Boy'

Chapter 1
The Painted Boy

Chapter Description: An arrogant and greedy corporate executive goes on a life-changing treasure hunt in the Amazon.

by skywavesage

Adult warning: Nudity, Male self-pleasure

Julian cursed as he hacked his way through the dense tropical jungle, beads of sweat pouring down his brow. An ambitious and unscrupulous corporate ladder climber, he had chanced upon an old book about the Lost City of Z, a mysterious city with untold riches deep in the Amazon jungle, and had become obsessed with finding it for himself. Taking a leave of absence from his senior executive position, he had flown to South America, acquired the best gear that money could buy, and set out into the treacherous jungle with a guide.

After weeks of fruitless trampling in hot & humid conditions and ceaseless harassment by fierce clouds of insects, Julian had lost most of his equipment and was dangerously low on supplies. Just this morning, he had woken to find that his guide had deserted him. But he was sure that he was close to the lost city now, a good thing given that his guide had taken most of the remaining supplies, and he was getting delirious from hunger and exhaustion.

As he shoved aside a pair of enormous palm fronds, he suddenly found himself face to face with a young Indian. “Savage!” Julian thought with alarm. He had always considered the Indians a lower form of life, vulgar & barbaric in their ways, and almost sub-human. Reflexively, he stepped back, but the youth gave him an encouraging smile and beckoned to him. Julian examined the Indian carefully – he appeared to be in his mid-teens, was painted from head to toe with elaborate patterns, and crucially, was unarmed. In fact, the only thing he was wearing was a bead necklace.

“Do you know the way to the City of Z?” Julian asked in pidgin Spanish. The youth looked at him quizzically, and a broad grin broke out on his face. “Yas bighanji nihee!” he replied in an incomprehensible tongue, and waved at Julian to follow him.

Figuring that he had little to lose, Julian ran after the youth, stumbling over tree roots and crashing thru the thick foliage. Before long, his decision was rewarded with the faint odor of barbecuing fish. Famished, he rapidly picked up his pace, stomach rumbling. Soon, they emerged into a clearing where the youth’s village stood. A cluster of thatched huts on stilts squatted by the shore of a crystal clear lake, and white smoke puffed lazily from a cooking fire. It really was quite picturesque, but Julian’s attention was drawn immediately to a row of silvery fish roasting over the fire.

He glanced hungrily at the youth, who nodded and smiled. Without hesitation, Julian dashed forward and began to gorge himself. After a while, he noticed that other Indians had emerged from their huts and were walking over to observe him. All of them were similarly covered with garish body paint and wore nothing beyond the occasional necklace or head band. “Pathetic savages.” he thought silently to himself, and then suddenly gasped.

An elderly Indian wearing a feather headdress had arrived, clearly the village chief. In his hand, he held a magnificent golden shield in the shape of a blazing sun. Right in its center, the letter “Z” was emblazoned prominently. Julian’s spirits soared. “I knew it wasn’t just a legend! That old fool must know where the city is!” he thought excitedly.

Dropping the fish he was munching on, he approached the chief and gave a deep bow. “Do you know the way to the City of Z?” he asked again in his pidgin Spanish, pointing to the shield. The chief looked at him impassively, then hollered in the direction of one of the huts. A large & heavy-set Indian woman emerged, carrying a brush & a set of small paint pots, and trotted over to Julian’s side.

“You… you want to paint my body?” he stammered at the chief, who nodded. “Then, you’ll tell me where the City of Z is?” The chief gave him a thin smile and nodded again. “Well I guess this must be some sort of welcome ritual...” Julian thought to himself as the painter daubed her brush all over his bearded face and down his neck. The paint gave off a faint, musky smell, a little like summer wildflowers, and not at all unpleasant.

The painter pointed at Julian’s shirt, which he obligingly removed, revealing a chiseled torso with a fine dusting of hair, still a pallid white from years of toiling indoors. She continued down his chest & then along his muscular arms, and Julian saw that he was being coated with silver paint, interspersed with bold black runes and the occasional splash of turquoise. It was completely unlike anything on the surrounding tribesmen’s bodies, and actually looked rather more elegant, even noble. “Perhaps this is reserved only for distinguished guests, or maybe gods.” he mused approvingly. “At least these savages know how to acknowledge their superiors.”

When she was done with his upper body, the painter paused and looked expectantly at Julian. Letting out a small sigh, he kicked off his boots and dropped his trousers, allowing her to continue on his legs. Just a minor inconvenience he had to put up with, he thought. Once he got the city’s location from the chief, he would be unimaginably rich! He started fantasizing about all the things he would buy with his newfound wealth – a private island stocked with martinis and supermodels, a 750ft luxury yacht with a pair of deep sea submersibles, a 100 room chateau in the Alps with its own indoor Ferris wheel…

The painter cleared her throat, rousing Julian from his daydreams. She was gesturing impatiently at Julian’s boxers. Surely not that too, he thought. He didn’t really want to be buck naked in front of this crowd, but glancing around he saw that several of the Indians were armed with axes and watching him with flinty eyes. Not wanting to jeopardize his chances of finding his prized city, he gingerly pulled off his boxers and tossed them aside. Feeling a little bashful, he cupped his hands around his groin as the painter got to work on his butt.

Soon after, she was ready for the last unpainted part of his body, so he had no choice but to remove his hands. There was a collective murmur from the crowd – Julian was very well hung, easily twice the size of most of the Indian men, and he could barely conceal his smugness. He noticed that the painter had switched to a vivid scarlet paint, no doubt to emphasize his superior sexual prowess and virility, he thought with satisfaction.

As the brush hairs caressed his balls and tickled his shaft, he felt himself getting aroused, and by the time the painter was done, he already had a raging hard-on. Thoroughly embarrassed, he tried desperately to control himself, but the scarlet paint was causing a tingling feeling that made him incredibly horny, and he found his hands being inexorably drawn to his throbbing cock.

Was he really going to polish his family jewels in front of this crowd, he thought with a shudder. But wait, he reminded himself, these were just Indians, really little better than animals, and he had never had any problem with jerking off in front of his pet dog, right? And besides, no one would know, and here was his opportunity to awe these low born savages with what a real man could do! With that warped logic, he enthusiastically seized his scarlet dick and balls and began to stroke & massage them with wild abandon.

The crowd whooped and began to cheer him on. Julian felt like he was in seventh heaven. There must have been something special in that paint that made him super sensitive, for he had never before experienced such heights of ecstasy playing with himself. Pumping his cock furiously, he moaned as waves of pleasure radiated out through his body, gathering in intensity until he reached the point of no return. With an euphoric cry, he triumphantly shot his juices several feet up into the air.

Abruptly, he felt a searing pain spread across his entire body. His skin felt like it was aflame, as if he had been thrust into a furnace. Clasping his arms around himself, he fell to his knees in agony as a series of spasms wracked thru his frame. Next, a swarm of fingers seem to glide over every inch of his body, massaging, squeezing and molding.

When it was finally over, he opened his eyes and gaped at his small, delicate hands. Scrambling to his feet, he stared down with horror at a brown & scrawny kid-sized body streaked with remnants of silver paint. His once mighty endowment had shriveled into an inconsequential nub that peeked out sheepishly from between his spindly legs.

Dashing to the side of the lake, he looked aghast at his reflection. A wide-eyed Indian boy, no more than seven or eight years old, stared back at him. Gone were his blond curls, replaced by an unruly jet black mop. His stately aquiline nose was now broad and flat like a pug. “Shima ba hooghan!” he yelped, and immediately clasped his hands to his mouth with shock at the vulgar sounds that had just issued from his lips. On reflection, he realized that he had just cried out for help in his native tongue. And then, with a growing sense of dread, he discovered that he could no longer speak a single word of English.

Terrified and desperate, his next impulse was to try to escape, but no matter what direction he darted, he found his path blocked by a forbidding wall of Indians. “Stop running, little boy, and come to me.” It was the youth who had led him here, who Julian realized that he could now understand perfectly, and also felt oddly compelled to obey. Scurrying forward, he cowered submissively before the youth, who now towered over him.

Beaming with delight, the youth bent down and gave Julian a warm, tender embrace. “You turned out even better than I expected!” he exclaimed excitedly. “Since I’m the one who found you, you belong to me now. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.” He gave Julian a kindly smile and tousled his hair, then removed his necklace and tied it gently around the boy’s neck. “Come, we have lots of work to do!”

“No, no, NO!” Julian screamed silently inside his head. This wasn’t fair! He was an important & powerful corporate executive with thousands of minions working for him, and was soon poised to become the richest man on the planet once he found the Lost City of Z! He wasn’t meant to be a naked little slave for this juvenile savage! Tears welled up in his eyes, but he was finding it increasingly hard to think, and his memories were starting to dim into distant dreams. Scared & not knowing what else to do, he turned around to follow his young master, shuffling helplessly after him like the obedient little slave boy that he now was.