Fuyu crossed the threshold into the hut, the heavy scent of roasted grains and woodsmoke hitting him instantly. Outside, the world was still draped in the indigo cloak of pre-dawn, the air crisp enough to make a man's breath hitch, yet the internal engine of the household was already roaring. Despite the chill, Fuyu's skin felt strangely sensitized from his cold bath—not refreshed, but raw, as if every nerve ending had been peeled back and exposed to the atmosphere.
He didn't join the circle immediately. Instead, he lingered by the entrance, his boots rooted to the packed-earth floor. His breath caught in his throat. Directly in front of him was Nula. She was bending over a large clay pot, her back to him, her posture hoisted high as she tended to the morning meal. From Fuyu's vantage point, her mature womanhood was displayed in a view that could only be described as glorious.
Nula was the personification of abundance. Her skin possessed a silken luster that seemed to glow even in the dim light of the hut's hearth. Her legs were long and milky, leading up to a figure that was unapologetically thick and powerful. Because of her forward lean, her leaf skirt had hitched upward, the hem straining against the swell of her wide, heavy hips. It was barely a barrier; the fibrous material clung to the curve of her buttocks, concealing the most sacred of places by a mere fraction of an inch, yet revealing the sheer, massive scale of her softness.
An agonizing thrum started in Fuyu's pelvis. He felt a desperate, sinful need to sink his palms into that softness, to bury his face between those sun-warmed cheeks and knead them like dough. His mind flashed back to a moment of weakness—a memory that now scorched his soul. Once, while Nula slept, he had crept close to her, drawn by an allure he couldn't name. He had leaned in and inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with her intoxicating, mature scent—a musk of earth, sweat, and womanhood that had made his head spin and his blood turn to liquid fire.
The shame of it had followed him for months, a heavy stone in his gut. She is your mother, he scolded himself, his knuckles whitening as he clenched his fists. This is hideous. This is a crime against the spirits. But the spirit currently residing within his consciousness merely giggled at his moral struggle. The heat didn't dissipate; it localized. Behind the thin veil of his own leaf covering, his manhood began to stretch, the red tip pulsing with a life of its own as it sought to break free.
Nula suddenly stiffened. A primal shiver raced down her spine, a sudden awareness that she was being watched—not just looked at, but hunted by a gaze that felt like a physical touch. She straightened up and turned, her almond-shaped eyes landing on her son.
"Oh, Fuyu. Come here, breakfast is ready," she said, a warm, motherly smile breaking across her face. She gestured for him to join the circle, her voice a soothing balm that momentarily doused the flames in his head.
"Yes, Mother..." Fuyu replied, his voice cracking slightly. He hurried forward, ducking his head to hide the intensity in his eyes. He took his seat, his mind a chaotic mess of self-loathing and unwanted arousal.
"Brat, what took you so long, huh?" Rana's voice boomed over the crackle of the fire. The patriarch reached out and clapped Fuyu on the back with enough force to rattle his teeth. "I told you we need to move fast. Winter is a hungry beast. If we don't get this final round of crops in the ground before the first frost, we'll be eating dirt by mid-season. No slacking today!"
"I know, Father," Fuyu muttered, staring intently at his wooden bowl. "I just... I overslept."
Lara leaned over to serve him, her movements fluid and graceful. She placed a piece of fruit and a bowl of thick, nutrient-rich soup onto his leaf plate. Fuyu tried to look at the food, he really did, but as Lara leaned in, his eyes were helplessly drawn to the movement beneath her leaf top. Her "mounts" were firm and high, swaying slightly as she moved.
Heck... why now? Why everything at once? Fuyu thought frantically. He shifted his weight, trying to hide the fact that he was now fully "bricked." His leaf skirt was being pushed outward, the red, sensitive tip of his nine-inch weapon peeking through the gaps in the foliage.
Lara paused mid-pour. Her eyes widened as they fell upon the sheer scale of the erection. She had grown up in a primitive world where privacy was a luxury, and she had seen many men—her father, her brother-in-law Yasu, and her own brother Manu. But this? This was an anomaly. She blinked, her breath hitching as she took in the sight of the thick, throbbing length of him.
He's still like that? Lara thought, her heart hammering. He's been like this since the bedroom. It's huge... it shouldn't be that big. She quickly looked away, her face flushing a deep crimson as she stood up and retreated to the other side of the hut.
The breakfast finished in a blur of happy chatter among the others, though Fuyu remained a silent island of tension. Soon, the males gathered their tools. They were to meet the neighbors and head to the fields for a day of grueling labor—harvesting the gold of the earth before planting the seeds for the next cycle.
As the men left, the hut grew quiet. The females—Nula, Sara, and Lara—prepared for their own exhausting day. They would soon have to trek to the great waterfall, the lifeblood of the village. It was a long walk through dangerous territory where wild beasts and rival tribes roamed. There, they would gather water, bathe in the warm spray, and return to prepare the evening meal. In this world, survival was a razor's edge; the men risked their lives in the fields and the hunt, while the women managed the fortress of the home.
Nula sat back against a stone pillar, letting out a long, weary sigh. Even in her simple attire, she was a staggering beauty. Her body held a seductive, mature charm that seemed to draw the light toward her. Her almond eyes were soft, yet they held the sharp intelligence of a woman who had survived three births and decades of wilderness living.
Lara sat nearby, still fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. "Mother," she began, her voice hesitant. "About Fuyu..."
Nula looked over, a knowing glint in her eyes. "I know, child. He's reached the age. It's a good thing. We have enough in the storage pits to support another mouth. I'll start looking for a mate for him among the neighbors. A good girl to help him focus his... energies."
Lara bit her lip, her face turning an even darker shade of red. "It's not just that he needs a mate, Mother. It's... he's huge."
Nula blinked, her expression shifting to confusion. "Huge? What are you talking about, Lara? All boys get a bit puffed up when they reach that age."
"No, Mother," Sara interjected from where she sat rubbing her belly. She spoke with the nonchalant bluntness of a married woman. "She means his manhood. It's big. Unnaturally big."
Nula let out a soft laugh, waving a hand dismissively. "Oh, girls. You're exaggerating. Lara, you're a virgin, and Sara, you're hormonal from the baby. That thing gets larger when it's ready for action, but it's all the same in the dark."
"Mother, I'm serious," Lara insisted, her eyes wide. "I've seen Father. I've seen Yasu. I've seen Manu when we were kids. Fuyu's... it's twice as long. It's like a different animal entirely."
Nula's laughter died down as she saw the sheer earnestness in her daughters' faces. She knew they weren't prone to lying about such taboos. In this tribe, the average male reached about four inches when fully aroused. To hear them speak of Fuyu this way was... intriguing.
"Truly?" Nula asked, her voice dropping an octave. "You both saw it?"
"Yes," Sara nodded firmly. "It was like a red-tipped spear. Nine inches, at least."
Nula felt a strange, cold shiver pass through her. Nine inches? That was unheard of. Her mind drifted back to the morning—the way Fuyu had been staring at her as she bent over. She had felt that gaze like a hot brand on her skin. She had assumed it was just a young boy's wandering eyes, but if what they were saying was true... if he was carrying that kind of weight...
"Whatever," Nula said, trying to regain her composure as she stood up to prepare the water pots. "I'll believe it when I see it myself. For now, stop gossiping about your brother's private parts. It's shameful. Get your things; the waterfall won't come to us."
As they began their trek, Nula walked in silence, her mind a turbulent sea of conflicting thoughts. She was a faithful wife to Rana, a man she respected but who had long since lost the fire of youth. Rana was a provider, but his touches were functional, his gaze predictable.
Fuyu's gaze this morning had been anything but predictable. It had been raw, hungry, and full of a mating instinct so powerful it had made her feel like a young girl again. She felt a flicker of guilt, but beneath it, a dormant ember of vanity began to glow. To be looked at like that by a man with the "vitality" her daughters described...
I am a mother. I shouldn't be thinking this, she told herself firmly. But as the sound of the waterfall grew louder in the distance, the image of Fuyu's intense, predatory eyes refused to leave her mind. She found herself wondering—just for a fleeting, dangerous second—what it would feel like to have that nine-inch "manhood" actually focused on her, rather than just a memory of a gaze.
"No," she whispered to the wind. "He's just a boy. I will find him a girl, and this will all pass."
But in the primitive world, where instinct often overrode law, Nula knew that once the beast of desire was awakened, it was rarely satisfied with a mere substitute. She adjusted the heavy pot on her shoulder, her massive hips swaying with a renewed, subconscious rhythm as she led her daughters toward the water.