On the odd rituals and habits of natives on Huntington Beach

by: username | Complete Story | Last updated Apr 24, 2021

Dude! Let's imbibe tasty buds and dig some gnarly waves. Righteous!

Chapter 1
We journey to the primitive location

Chapter Description: Be careful of what you blaspheme, (or not).

Good evening ladies and gents! Welcome to “Arcane rituals and odd beliefs”. In this episode, we’ll go to a strange, backward area of the boonies in America called “Huntington Beach” where the locals worship various natural phenomena. We hope you enjoy the show and come back next week where we’ll show another film about primitive people and their native ways! Enjoy!


The ancient priest wearing his surfer shorts, bedecked with the sacred zinc oxide markings on his nose and under his eyelids invoked a prayer to start our session: “Like, don't anger our gods and stuff! The sun and the tasty waves and, like, sand get bummed out with such negative vibes. Instead, like, worship them by wearin' the sacred bikini and play the ancient gnarly rite of volleyball. Surf's up, my dudes! Gnarly!”

We couldn’t fully understand the lingo that the main priest used and turned on our universal translator, it spit out “Don't anger our gods. The sun, the delectable surf, and sand do not appreciate such blasphemy. Instead, worship them by wearing the sacred bikini and play the ancient rite that is volleyball. Surf's up, fellows! Amen!”

And so we watched the ancient pagan ritual as the natives burned highly processed meat in the form of tubes for consumption, drank many grain-based alcoholic beverages, rode atop waves with long planks of wood, and smacked a round animal hide covered ball over a net using opposing teams of four.

“I Say chaps! This is truly a wondrous day! The gods surely must be most pleased with our worship!” Spat the universal translator as a shapely young lady passed by wearing a bikini, sunglasses, beach sandals, and holding a cold beverage. (We made a note for the boys back at the lab would have to work on the nuances that the translator sorely lacked in its operation.)

One of the worshipers, clad in a black Catalina one-piece swimsuit, seemed to disagree with the worshipers' beliefs, “There are no gods! You silly twits are merely using this festival to act all silly and stupid! If you wish to party, then party and don’t make up cockamamie excuses to do so!”

The head priest took offense to this, “Cinder! Don’t blaspheme our gods and attempt to throw a wet blanket on our worship! If you anger them, there can be dire consequences, I assure you!”

Cinder continued her sharp comments concerning belief systems “I have nothing to fear from your juvenile belief system! The gods that you believe exist are mere fictions of your fevered imagination! In fact, I welcome their interactions as to do so would prove their existence! However, nothing will happen as they are just fabrications of a deluded mindset!”

The translator dropped out momentarily and the priest’s retort came back “Like, Bummer, dude! That’s not cool and, like, a totally negative ‘tude to have! The gods are gonna get majorly bummed and, like, maybe do a serious number on you?”

So saying, an odd coincidence began to affect Cinder’s swimsuit. It became an adult onesie with snaps along the crotch and changed color to pastel pink. Underneath it, a thick swim diaper appeared out of nowhere. Swimming floats appeared on her arms as a large white sunbonnet with lace frills popped into existence and landed on her head. A pacifier came flying out of nowhere, making a beeline for Cinder’s mouth and jamming itself in. Cinder fell back on her padded behind from uncomprehending shock while a plastic bucket and shovel appeared in front of her arched legs. Mollified, she picked up the shovel and began shoveling sand into the bucket while happily sucking on the pacifier.

The translator kicked in again “The gods have spoken! Let all those present remember this punishment and blaspheme our holy festival no longer!” Spoke the righteous priest with authority and conviction.

“Will she be all right? I hope no permanent damage was done.” I remarked to the priest and he reassured me that this thing happened with Cinder every year. “Nah, brah! I think she does it ‘cuz she likes wearing diapers or something.”

A temple priestess wearing a skimpy electric blue skirtini walked up and tended to Cinder’s needs by pulling out the pacifier and feeding her from a large baby bottle filled with bovine lactation.


Towards the evening as the sun began its downward trek in the sky, many torches were lit and placed in a large circle with a platform on it. An ancient priestess wearing a retro bikini danced atop it. She was well past her prime with saggy skin, wrinkles, and cellulite adorning her otherwise physically fit frame. Grey hair done up in a ceremonial heart-shaped bun adorned her wizened head and gave the pretense that she was a bride at her wedding.

Her movements were slow and conservative allowing for her aged muscles to perform and gave her dance a quality afforded to a much younger dancer.

The priest and a priestess duo signaled for the dance to pause and took a prominent position in front of the raised stage.

“Tonight, we celebrate the renewal of life to one who has spent her life in faithful obedience to our simple ways! Sister Goldenhair has spent 60 years worshiping our gods of sun, surf, and water asking nothing in return other than -” the translator dropped out “the tasty buds and righteous serenity, like, you can get from that sort of stuff? Gnarly!” the translator came back in “and so she will perform the ritual of renewal as it befits a true believer in our ways. Sister Goldenhair, begin the dance!” The crowd gave a smattering of light applause.

she began the dance to a slow steady beat played on a set of bongo drums that were played in the background. As the beat began to increase in intensity and tempo, she kept in perfect step, never wavering and entering a trance-like state as her body took over, performing moves that belied her ancientness.

The waddles under her chin and underarms shrank and tightened, her saggy breasts firmed and lifted, the pouch of drooping flesh in her midriff pulled in and disappeared while the cellulite in her hips that puckered her skin smoothed out leaving supple curves on a lithe, sensuous figure.

The deep craggy wrinkles on her face dissipated, brow lines and crow’s feet simply vanished as her nose lost all its excess cartilage leaving a lovely streamlined version in its place. As her jowls degenerated, her spine straightened and pushed her height several inches up as the formerly hunched shoulders popped back into place lending their rigidness to an hourglass figure that undulated with the ever-increasing tempo of the bongo beat.

A veritable godlike creature danced on the stage, her hips shaking and arms undulating with vibrant energy as her breasts swayed to and fro, the buns in her hair let loose revealing a soft, lustrous lightly curled honey-colored mane that gave an important clue as to why she was named “Goldenhair”.

The bongo beat stopped and Sister Goldenhair stood atop the stage, Her light cotton retro-bikini clinging to the sweat on her body revealed two very excited nipples as they pushed against its fabric leaving nothing to the imagination. She was the ultimate perfection of the female form!

The crowd stood up and clapped loudly while she did her bows and blew kisses, waving here and there with the regalness a winner of a beauty pageant might do. The persistent cheering and adulation of the crowd triggered a deep desire in her to please them even more.

She then signaled the bongo player to begin an encore. This apparently wasn’t normally done as the priest shouted “NO! DON’T!” but was drowned out as the crowd roared, cheering her on with the drummer picking up the beat from where he’d left off.

She feverishly swayed and gyrated to the steady beat, getting smaller with each step. The perfect breasts seemed to pull upward and inward as they lost their mass and she became flat-chested, her bikini top dangled from her rapidly thinning frame exposing round, pink childish areolae. The bikini bottoms slid down her coltish legs exposing her diminished pubic hair which appeared for only a moment as it receded into her body leaving bare, smooth skin behind. Her face took on a girlish roundness and her nose became a cute little button shape that matched her softened jawline.

Sister Goldenhair had become an unpolished adolescent girl who danced on the stage with awkward movements. As her slipping bikini bottom became entangled in her feet and tripped her up, it caused her to trip and fall over on stage face first. The bongo player stopped playing immediately and rushed over to where sister Goldenhair lay on the stage breathing heavily and helped her up. The beautiful little girl, drenched with sweat, took a calming breath, waved, and smiled a gap-toothed grin at the audience as a towel thrown by a thoughtful watcher to the bongo player was wrapped around the little girl’s torso and fastened at the back.

Sister Goldenhair regained her composure and performed multiple deep bows with her right arm held out in a sweeping motion before she left the stage. The crowd roared and cheered prompting her to make a return and she courtesied comically while holding the sides of her towel as a makeshift dress. Thrilled with her enjoyment of the crowd's affection and warmth, she was about to signal the bongo player to start again when the priestess duo quickly jumped up on stage and picked her up, raising her above their heads while running her off the stage.

She could be seen arguing with the priestesses backstage that her fans wanted more and she was very willing to give it to them. The larger of the two, losing patience, grabbed her arm and ushered her to a curtained area then brought her back a little later wearing a ruffle-top children’s one-piece bathing suit over her slender shapeless child body. The priestess had shown the little girl herself in a mirror and that had sobered her up on any thoughts of continuation of the ritual of renewal.

Cinder was still playing in the sand near the torchlight happily sucking her pacifier and sister Goldenhair upon spotting her, joined in. The two got along fabulously and built a large sandcastle together. One of the priestess duo came over and checked Cinder, then dragged her off with Cinder protesting profusely, changed her swim diaper, and brought her back. The happy, dry Cinder rejoined Goldenhair in their building of another sandcastle and the beginning of their new empire of dirt.


The day after the festival, a clean-up crew were meticulously clearing litter from the beach, filling in holes, and flattening the sand with rakes. The high priest talked of caring for their gods while surfers rode the waves and a volleyball ball tournament sported by four scantily-clad bikini adorned players took place.

While we conversed, Goldenhair cautiously came over, she still wore her ruffle-top one piece and wanted to sit on the high priest’s lap. “See here, sister, you’re far too old for lap sitting, that’s for babies and toddlers!” he exclaimed. She replied, “Then I’ll just go and perform the ritual of renewal for a few more beats and then I won’t be!” The priest gave in and she happily snuggled in with her head against his chest as he placed his arms around her tiny body and gave her a fatherly hug.

Cindy stopped by, wearing a blue Catalina one-piece swimsuit, carrying a bag with the pink onesie, pacifier, and sunbonnet inside. She said that she’d had a great time and asked if they had an open blasphemer slot for next year. The priest confirmed her nomination and she departed with a waddle from the fresh swim diaper she wore underneath her apparel. “Told ya she’s into diapers dude, Gnarly!”

The film crew started breaking down their equipment and storing it in our storage van, we wished the high priest and the duo farewell and they offered to give our journey a blessing. We accepted and they chanted into the translator “May your rest breaks be few, your journey swift and the road feel less bumpy”. Little did we know what the blessing entailed as everyone in the crew stood aghast as their undergarments all turned into well-padded nappies. While it made for awkward walking, the trip home went smoothly with a minimum of fuss.




End Chapter 1

On the odd rituals and habits of natives on Huntington Beach

by: username | Complete Story | Last updated Apr 24, 2021


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