top of page

Serving the Alligator God (Illustrated)

Note: This is the second posting using AI art for illustration. I'd appreciate feedback on whether readers like this type of content, so I know to put effort into the artwork. It takes a lot of iterations to get the right ones to fit the story, but I do end up with a lot of stuff to use for later content.


Dr. Patricia Lear swatted at another mosquito as it tried to feed on her. This was nothing new. Through the years of her global travels, Dr. Lear had dealt with mosquitos, snakes, spiders, wild animals and much more. She'd uncovered ruins, spent weeks in the desert, climbed mountains or lived in forests. All of these things she did for science, for her love of history and culture.

This latest excursion into the jungle would be, quite literally, something to write home about. After two weeks down the river, her little group of explorers finally guided their boat ashore. For the next few weeks, possibly months, she'd spend her days in a remote tribal village. Cultures like these were few and far between in the 21st century. Even the most remote tribes couldn't avoid some kind of contact with the wider world, and so it had come to pass that this bunch, the Antiquitika, had had their first meeting with the modern world in God knew how long.

That was part of Dr. Lear's task. She was the cultural expert, the one who would learn about their history, their rites, their beliefs, painstakingly taking notes and documenting it for posterity and academia. To this end, her team consisted of herself, a medical doctor, a guide and interpreter, and her long-time companion, Marcus. Marcus, a tough and brilliant cultural expert himself, was also ex-military and had saved her ass more than once in their travels.

As their boat moored at the riverbank, Marcus hopped ashore and secured the ropes to a pair of large trees. The other passengers passed gear to him from the boat. Leaving the pilot and his crew behind, the rest of the band shouldered their packs and filed into the jungle, making good time along a pre-trodden trail, created by the bunch that had made the initial contact with the Antiquitika. With the guide in the lead, they spent the bulk of the day in the sweltering, jungle heat, until the jungle began to thin.

In the distance, the first of the tribal huts came into view and Dr. Lear's heart leapt at the coming chance to make history. As they approached, a pair of half-nude, dark-skinned men, their faces and bodies marked with paint appeared from the bushes. They began to speak rapidly, gesturing, agitated, brandishing knives. Dr. Lear and her band were seasoned explorers, though, and this sort of thing wasn't new. They were cool, waiting, tense, as the guide listened, spoke back, and after a moment of dialogue, the two men sheathed their knives.

"They welcome us in," the guide explained, "We must follow them."

Dr. Lear nodded and the group made their way to the village. The village was much like others of its kind, Lear noted, taking in everything from the way the people dressed, to the daily activities they worked at, to the unique markings each of them wore painted on their skin. All of these things, she'd spend the coming weeks learning about in depth. She noted, expectantly, that all of the tribe's women were bare-breasted and wore no undergarments. Some of them had small weights attached to piercings on their nipples.

Their band stopped in front of a hut at the center of the village, larger than the rest. Dr. Lear assumed that the position of prominence, the large size of the place, and the central location meant that this was the home of the tribe's chief. One of the men begged entry from another man, disappeared inside, and then returned a moment later. The curtained entry of the hut swished and out ducked a tall, muscled man adorned with a feathered headband. His chiseled chest was marked with two slashes of white paint over his nipples and his large, flaccid cock hung nude.

Dr. Lear averted her eyes. This, too, was not uncommon in tribes like this. Still, she knew that some tribes considered it unholy for an outsider to look at them. Having no idea of the cultural mores of these people, she felt it best to err on the side of caution. The large man had to duck out of the entrance, then he stood before the assembled band in silence, observing each of them. As he did so, a woman came and placed a cushion of some kind at his feet. Then, she knelt and began to suck at the man's cock eagerly.

Dr. Lear shifted uncomfortably. Each tribe had different rituals and rites when it came to sex, but never had she seen such a blatant display immediately on arrival. The big man began to speak to them. Their guide listened, spoke back, then turned to the group.

"He is their leader. He is called, Iuxiuana. He says, forgive me Doctor, he says that you offend them all by not baring your breasts."

Lear colored and said, "Tell him that it is not our way."

The guide interpreted, paled at the response, and then directed his next statement to Marcus, "Iuxiuana says that it is not a woman's place to speak. Her wishes should be those of her mate or, I think the closest translation is, 'her owner,' and that if you, Marcus, do not correct this offense, then we will be introduced to the alligator god."

That gave them all pause, Lear and Marcus giving each other a look.

"Look, I don't like it either," Marcus said quietly, "but I'm not in a hurry to meet the alligator god. You're going to have to show him your tits."

Lear blushed, angry, but what choice was there. She nodded and allowed Marcus to undo the buttons of her top. She dropped her pack, removed the top, then the sweaty tank top under it. The tribal leader stared in curiosity at her bra, which Marcus then removed and dropped onto her pack. Her large tits bare to everyone, Lear kept silent.