Get With The Breeding Program (Patreon)

Betty certainly didn’t know about jungle girls being endangered, but Tesla had said they were virtually a culture onto themselves, so that meant the island was off-limits to everyone but them. Betty liked the sound of that, except for the part about there being no men. June said that her husband, Torzoon, would be joining them shortly, but a married man was almost worse than no man at all.

Case in point: Tom Strong. He was Tesla’s dad, not that he looked hardly middle-aged. It’d been him who’d pulled the strings that’d gotten the jungle girls declared a protected species, as well as secured funding for the breeding program that was to start right away. Betty didn’t know how that would work, but she guessed June was going to be a very busy lady, since she was the only one who wasn’t single.

But could the children of only two parents really keep jungle girls going? Tom was a scientist. Betty asked him to explain it to her, someplace dark and quiet, away from where the other girls were dancing and listening to their swing music, like they did every night.

Tom said a lot of things about how despite the very few jungle girls left, the insertion of proper genes could ensure healthy, fruitful offspring, and that he was faithful to his wife, but she saw the need to repopulate the species. It really didn’t make too much sense to Betty.

She was thinking a lot more of how close he was sitting to her. She could smell his aftershave and the scent of the pipe he smoked; it sure was funky. And he certainly was masculine, real attractive with his dark eyes, broad chest, and brawny arms. When they heard a wolf howl in the distance, Tom said he’d have to be sure not to leave her alone—she might be gobbled up.

“I’d like to be gobbled up,” Betty said. “So long as you were the one who got to enjoy me.”

She blushed at her own candor. Tom squinted and gazed into her eyes. Betty looked out into the distance at the open-air cabana they’d made of the former hunting cabin, where all the other girls had their own thing going.

Tom said some more, about jungle girl mating rituals, about them being more physical than verbal, but all Betty really cared about was that he put his arm around her shoulders and nuzzled her ear. It was nice to have a man paying attention to her. She enjoyed it. It was especially nice when it was as much of a man as Tom Strong and he kept dropping flirty hints about breeding her.

Betty just knew it’d be nice to be bred. Tom said that she should go first, since she was so quiet and reserved—she’d show the others how much fun it was, maybe even make them jealous. It would go a long way to softening up some of the aggressive girls like Leona and Sheelagh if they saw they could get their way by being submissive and breedable like Betty was.

Betty didn’t know if she was breedable… she certainly hoped she was… she said she might be if Tom were the one doing the mating (if that were the same thing as breeding) and Tom laughed and said that’s why he was there.

Then someone turned down the lights. Not completely off, but low enough to give people some privacy. The swing music on the record player was now soft jazz, mellow music that made Betty feel both relaxed and a little sad—sad enough to need someone.

When Tom kissed her, she didn’t know what to do. She asked if he was breeding her. When he said she was, she gently kissed him back. She liked the taste of Tom’s lips. She knew there was more to breeding than this, but she hoped it was all this much fun!

The kiss ended. She relaxed in Tom’s arms and they listened to the music. Sometimes, he would kiss her and sometimes, she would kiss him. Then he kissed her with more urgency, almost a challenge. She had to decide between resisting and accepting his tongue, but there was no decision. She couldn’t imagine doing anything but letting him keep going, keep breading her.

She moaned against Tom’s mouth when he put his hand on her breasts. Tom’s hand felt good. He was a man who felt good to women. She could tell by the way he caressed her that Tom was a man who knew how to do everything he was going to do.

Betty had a sudden bout of guilt. She felt sorry for the others. They had just as much of a right to be bred as she did, but Tom wasn’t mating them, just her. It seemed so crazy.

Her mouth stayed together with Tom’s while he stroked her breasts. She opened some of the buttons of his shirt and ran her fingers through his chest hair. He had lots of hair on his chest. She liked hairy men. He almost had a pelt, magnificently thick on his chest, more sparse on his belly—she guessed he’d have more on his balls and thighs, where she liked it.

Betty thought about reaching down to feel the scratchy hair down there, but the thought made her so damn hot that she quivered. Tom kept kissing her. He seemed to like fur too, petting the leopard-skin mane where it covered her breasts. Then his hand was underneath it, fondling her bare breasts.

He tugged one of them out into the open to play with the nipple. Betty knew she was turned on, but just then, she realized how turned on she was. She was quaking with excitement. Her breasts were more sensitive than they’d ever been, heaving and swollen, and she loved the way Tom’s fingers rolled and pinched her fat nipple.

Betty heard a woman moaning. She thought it was herself, but she couldn’t be moaning with Tom’s tongue in her mouth. When he stopped kissing her, Betty turned her head and looked into the cabana. Even with the lights down, she could see by the moon.

Leona was on the rug with Sheelagh’s head between her legs. Those two always argued so much—Betty guessed this was one way for them to get along.

“Oh! They’re mating early,” Betty whispered to Tom.

He chuckled. “Practice. Don’t you ever do that?”

Betty shook her head before nodding. “Yes, but not where a guy could see!”

“No reason why not. It’s getting me in the mood.”

“But how?” Betty asked, confused. “They’re not even touching you.”

“Good point,” Tom said. “It must just be you.”

He had her shoulder straps off now, her breasts naked in his hands. He whispered in her ear about how much he liked them and said he would like to paint her sometime, maybe with some furs draped on her body to show how regally she bore their weight, and her shoulders forward to show the hang of her breasts.

Betty mewled. She didn’t know why Tom would want to cover her in paint or why he’d have to pose her like that to do it, but she liked the sound of his voice and especially how he sounded so fascinated with her body when he talked like that. She felt like she’d do anything to please Tom just then, even if he didn’t want to do something normal like putting it in her ass.

“Come on,” Tom said, “let’s find a bed.”

“But I’m a jungle girl!” Betty protested. “The grass and the mud are my bed!”

“But you deserve to be bred on silk sheets,” Tom countered. “Any girl I mate with is a princess and I’m going to treat her like one.”

He leaned down and took her left nipple into his lips. His hand wrapped around the heft of her breast as he sucked. It felt too good for Betty not to moan. She knew she would go to bed with him. She would anything he wanted.

As he sucked her nipple, she put her hand in his lap and immediately felt his cock. A quiver went through Betty at the feel of it. She was touching Tom Strong’s cock. It seemed insane, but she had Tom Strong’s cock in her hand.

Betty was madly aroused. She squeezed Tom’s erection through his pants, feeling the stiffness of it, the hugeness of the shaft and head, the length extending down the leg of his pants. He was so big. She liked pricks like his, big and thick, ending in a huge cum-shooting knob.

Of course they were all nice, so long as they were hard and thick enough for her cunt. Men thought too much about whether their cocks were acceptable or not, but she didn’t think Tom ever worried about that. He had nothing to worry about. And she had nothing to worry about. Betty had Tom Strong’s cock twitching in her hand and she knew the breeding it would give her would be just delicious.

She said she wanted to go to bed with him. It was either that or do it right there in front of everyone. And she couldn’t do that. Someone else might get jealous and try to take Tom away from her. They already seemed to need to be bred the way Betty was going to be.

Leona definitely needed it. She had Sheelagh’s body between her legs now, the others watching, sipping their drinks. They were touching each other too. Betty was a little annoyed that no one had come to touch her, but maybe they’d thought that Tom didn’t want to share—that they shouldn’t dare interfere with such an alpha’s mating.

He had her hand in his now and he was leading her away, like he was any more hot to find a bed than she was. Betty needed fucking and she needed Tom.

Tom found an empty hut, led Betty inside, and closed the door behind them. She was glad the lights were off in here. Someone might come to see what they were doing that couldn’t happen at the orgy.

They might always stumble in thinking it was an empty hut, but Betty doubted it. All of the other jungle girls seemed to like doing it in front of each other. She was glad she was getting Tom all to herself, alone, before he started giving it to the others.

Then they were on the bed, kissing again, a hungry kiss that made Betty moan. Tom’s hand moved under the skirt of her leopard skin, stroking first her thighs, then her sex. His fingers danced over the bare flesh of her labia—he made no mention of the fact that, like all jungle girls, Betty naturally had no hair on her privates or her armpits.

Betty, of course, wasn’t embarrassed by this, but she did feel abashed at how wet she was. Her juices always flowed heavily when she was aroused and that was the effect Tom had had on her. She moaned as his fingers touched her, feeling how her sopping cunt flowed with arousal.

“I wonder if all jungle girls are so… readily lubricated,” Tom mused.

“It’s too bad you can’t test it.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“Because any girl would be this way for you.”

He chuckled and moved his hands to peel her leopard-skin off her wide hips, after which it easily came down her long legs. Betty was left naked, and even though her usual wear was hardly modest, the darkness suddenly seemed like the skimpiest thing she’d ever worn.

“Never mind the flattery. Would you like to be the one to take my cock out? You can unzip my fly…”

Betty nearly clapped her hands. She’d wanted to play with Tom’s zipper ever since she’d first seen it, and not just because of the huge bulge behind it. She wanted to see how all those little metal teeth fit together.