- Title: The Kantuta Bond
- Subtitle: A Bond that Swapped the Lovers
- Series: The Fatal Gender Swap
- Author: Yu Sakurazawa
- Gender Swap Type: Body swap
[Background] About 150 years ago a virus called PSY-12 destroyed the majority of Earth’s populations. The virus drove people mad and suicidal. The rest had constant nightmares what they’ve called “the nightmares of the Earth”. The people who were immune recolonized the Earth. Some tried to rebuild a technologic lifestyle, others decided to start new, more nature-friendly communities.
This is what happened on Amantani Island (Peru, next to the Lake Titicaca). They call themselves the Kantuta Tribe after the flower which grows there. Outsiders call them “Hippies with guns”. They prefer to live in isolation. During 150 years the local Quechua survivors and the new pioneers (mostly Americans and multiethnic Peruvians) formed a spiritual local community. Their lifestyle includes the usage of ayahuasca.
[Introduction] This is a gender swap science fiction story written for those who is looking for a sensation in tranquility.
Where would you like to stay if a deadly pandemic outbreak is about to devour the whole world? Amantani Island may be one of the places where I would hide from the rest of the world. It’s a beautiful island on the Peruvian side of Lake Titicaca,high in the air at 3,812 metres (12,507 ft) from the sea level.
Years after a virus called PSY-12 destroyed the majority of Earth’s populations Amantani Island is populated by the Kantuta Tribe which is a mixture of the local Quechua survivors and and new settlers who are mostly Americans and mutiethynic Peruvians. They have a unique spiritual lifestyle with the usage of Ayahuasca in rituals.
The gender swap that you will experience reading this story is quite different from a transgender erotica. It is a sensation arising from deep inside of yourself and in tranquility.
AVA (the female protagonist): Age 20, creole skin. She is trained to fight and navigate. Her father was Arabic, she has a hamsa tattoo (Fatima’s hand), which is a sign of protection. She travelled the world in a modern-style caravan with her dad (her nickname is Caravan Kid), her godfather and four other crew members. Her mother was from the Amantani Island and was murdered when she was twelve, because being a merchant and travelling through cities is a dangerous business.
DAVE (the male protagonist): He is athletic with brown hair, pale skin. He is an educated, calm-mannered, artistic, who perceives the “nightmares of the Earth”. He is considered as a highly spiritual member of the tribe. He has two mothers, who are lesbians. One of them had a one-night-stand with a traveler who left the island after a short stay, so he never had a real father figure.
ISTVAN (the scientist): He is a grey-haired, bearded guy in his fifties with glasses. He worked in Hungary at a Research Centre to find a cure for the PSY-12 virus in case the epidemic starts again. They’ve detected the mutant PSY-12 first. They had a radio connection with the American Research Centre for collaboration. When the epidemic started to spread in Europe towards the rest of the world, he got the quest to meet with an American scientist and to set out to get ayauhuasca from the Kantuta tribe as a possible cure.
SOPHIA (the leader): She is a strong character in her forties, who didn’t inherit but earned the position as the main leader of the community. She has a very refined personality but she isn’t the man of many words. Sophie guides her tribe with very firm hands and is very strict when it comes to laws and traditions.
TAQUIRI (the shaman): He is in his sixties, very wise and chilled. He is a man ready for understanding and compromises but he doesn’t believe that people in the outside world can overcome their self-destructive routines without empathy and the Flourishing ritual. When the leader dies, he automatically becomes the new leader.
FRANK (the smuggler): Frank is a one-eyed, sneaky drug dealer, who says he is a farmer just to get hold of the Ayahuasca and to sell it to the outsiders.
CYNTHIA (the mother): She is the mother of the twins (Blue and Ted), an ex-prostitute from the cities, who’s only goal was to secure the future of her children. She becomes infected with the new form of the PSY-12 virus. When she arrives to the island in a very weak, malnourished phase, since it was difficult to travel through a big distance with two toddlers. The twins are considered as a miracle, no one on the Kantuta Island has ever seen twins.
ELLIE & CARLA (the mothers of Dave): Ellie and Carla is a lesbian couple in their forties who always worked on the Base, because they are very social and the like to interact with the travelers. They are free-minded and loving parents of Ava, and they will take care of the twins very well.
[Sample text – less than 10% of the story is shown due to restrictions of KDP]
I tried to hold on to things, but everything kept moving just out of my grasp.
We must go, I feel. We must go—now.
I tugged on Ava’s hand. She looked at me and said in an amazed tone, “Everything is alive.”
I had the vague impression of other bodies chanting and moaning, but I couldn’t separate them. Limbs and faces pulled glowing trails behind them as they moved, and they were meshed with illuminated strings, radiant spider webs. The Shaman’s voice floated in from a thousand miles away: “Tomorrow, you will understand your dreams.”
The air was smooth and sweet outside of the tent; the blinding sunlight rippled on the mountain slopes.
I pulled Ava after me; she felt like a heavy but important part of my body. Every step took an eternity. She stared around, wide-eyed, and whispered, “Everything has a face: every tree, every rock, every leaf . . .” and then she laughed like a child.
At one point, she fell to the ground and pushed her face into the grass. “Every blade is stroking me. Do you hear them?”
I didn’t. But I saw the yawning black void of my secret cave.
At first, it was darkness.
“What’s this cold?” she asked, but I didn’t answer. I was concentrating on bypassing the puddles and stone-falls.
We were blind in the seemingly endless darkness, so I followed my memories until we’d finally reached the main cave. Somewhere, I had a secret box of matches covered in plastic wrap to save it from the humidity and a torch made from hessian rolled into a tube and soaked in wax. I lit it clumsily, and light flooded the chamber.
Ava was amazed by the stones I’d painted with coal.
“What are these?”
“Figures and scenes I see in my dreams. Do you recognize any of them?”
We walked slowly by the walls and scrutinized the lightened details. Our world ended where the gloriole of the torch began. Shadows danced through the paintings. Everything had been designed through geometric shapes and lines, with vivid, bright colors and whirls I’d never noticed before. We followed their mazes deeper and deeper.
About two years ago, I’d had a recurring dream of a woman’s face staring at me in constant terror. Now, her visage wanted to say something, and her mouth opened to convey a message.
“I don’t hear it,” I said.
“Touch me,” I heard, and I laid my forehead onto her cool stone mouth. Her scream hit me like an explosion.
“We are all one.”
The voice within me was not human, and I felt every grain of sand pressed together in this stone creature—an inseparable part of the cave, of the island, just like me. We were pieces in a perfectly put-together puzzle, parts of the universe, repeating patterns of the same order. I cried pure tears of joy as the unity hit me.
I fell to my knees, grateful for my life. Ava, still bound to me by her wrist, was dragged down to kneeling, too. Her mocha-brown dreadlocks covered me, our arms joined like tree branches. Our borders started to fade both in body and soul.
There, we knelt in the midst of this unimaginable enormity, exactly where we should have been.
I kissed her smooth, slightly opened lips. Her own wet tongue played about my face as she showered me with millions of small, light kisses in return. I was covered with the starry sky; I was the darkness stricken by countless flashes of light. My body tingled as her fingers drew little clefts through my hair, trailing down my nape to my neck. Her touch was a vibrating paint brush, and I imagined the molecules of my skin turning into painting. I was a canvas.
We raised our joined hands, and I played my tongue along her nipples, which wrinkled like the coasts of undiscovered lands. My other hand caressed her shorts; I felt her perfect curves, her mons, her ass. She licked my chest until she’d reached my belt, and when she couldn’t lean in any lower, she ripped off our kantuta chain with her teeth and dived onto my lap, pulling down my pants. My penis pulsated in her hand.
First, she carefully pulled back the skin, then kissed the tip of my cock. I pushed myself deeper into her mouth, the sharp edges of her teeth pumping up my adrenaline. Danger, danger, I thought, but nevertheless, I pushed myself even deeper until I reached her pharynx, when she bent her neck in a certain way so I could slide even deeper down her throat. I heard her breath stop, and she squeezed my thighs with her fingers. We stayed like this for a second, energy flooding my body.
Then, I lifted her head, forced her to look into my eyes. By the flickering torchlight, I saw my own reflection in her pupils. Her face had taken on animalistic features; she was the huntress, and I was the hunted. She even groaned with a naughty little smile that only fueled my excitement.
“Ava,” I whispered, “I want you.” And I sucked her earlobes, dived into her ear with my tongue.
“I want you, too, Dave,” she sighed back, and I desired her depths more than anything in my life.
I pushed her back, and she leant on her arms, spread her legs. Her perfect pink pussy opened for me like a kantuta flower, glossing from her juices.
I tasted her cream—slightly metallic and bitter, but mild and creamy; a taste I’d never tried before. All I wanted was my face between her thighs, to discover her slopes and hills with my tongue. She leaned even farther back, breathing heavily, moaning when I’d reached the right spot. It took me several minutes to learn this language, but it was the nicest sound I’d ever heard from a woman.
She pushed herself against my face, and my nose bumped her clitoris while I dived into her vagina with my tongue. She liked it, but not as much as when I pushed my index finger deep inside of her. Immediately, she started to slide up and down on it, and it didn’t take long until she’d reached a point when I thought she would go crazy and came on my finger with a discrete fountain of joy.
I wasn’t sure if I should push her to continue, but she turned on her stomach and offered herself up. I knelt behind and penetrated her until I came with a loud groan that echoed through the cave. Then, we rested for a few minutes, catching our breath. I kissed her neck softly.
“My spine is connected to the universe,” she said, and I followed the elegant bumps of her bones down with my tongue until I reached her buttocks and her pussy lips. I sucked them in.
Suddenly, she pushed me back, and I fell to the ground, my head banging against the stone. She spread my legs and pushed her pelvis up to mine. I felt a tingling sensation when she started to play on me. Then, she reached my hole and pushed herself in, massaging me from the inside.
I looked down at my arm—it was thin and Creole with a hamsa on it.
“Fatima’s hand for protection. Don’t be afraid,” she whispered gently into my ear, but in a deep voice. I regarded her strong, masculine arm, which looked exactly like mine.
Then, the realization hit me: what she’d pushed deep inside of me was a dick between my legs, and what I felt was a penis penetrating my cave. I had a vagina—a hungry, deep vagina, longing for cum.
Ava pushed and pushed some more, and I couldn’t resist the sensation to just take whatever came. The tip of the dick hit my wall again and again, and when she laid a finger on my clitoris, the double sensation drove me crazy.
I heard her voice coming from me: “More, please, don’t stop.”
And she didn’t, until huge waves of convulsive satisfaction ran through me. Then, she pushed a few more times, and I heard my own voice come from her mouth, felt juices dripping out me.
“We are one now,” she said, leaning her full weight onto my curvy chest. It felt like two strange pillows between us.
“We are one.” I saw the painting’s mouth still moving, the same one I’d painted on the stones, and I finally understood what she’d wanted to say.
I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, holding Ava in my arms.