(OOC: Sorry this took so long to go up. I had written something over the weekend but I decided I didn't like it so I started completely new this morning. I would have posted this sooner but the boards were down. Thankfully, I saw that they were up just before I head to bed.)

Two Days Ago…

I sit in the back of an offroad vehicle that takes me down a dusty road in Western Australia. Less than 35 miles away, Warfare will take place in Perth… but, with a few days before the event, I need to engage in an adventure that takes me away from the city limits.

I am very familiar with Perth, knowing it as the birthplace of XWF Hall of Legends member Steve Jason. In fact, it is in that very city that he wrestled his last meaningful XWF match against yours truly. I kicked his ass, shaving his eyebrows afterwards as his family and friends looked on in horror. It was a good time.

In fact, it is my experience dealing with “The Stinger” that has lead me to engage on the adventure I’m about to partake. My first thought upon landing in Australia was to impregnate a ton of women here. Australian women are attractive, fun, and easy, so finding an Aussie to “root” with and knock up wouldn’t be difficult. But I got to thinking…

If Steve Jason was born in Perth, there are chances that I might accidentally impregnate his sister or his cousin or maybe even his mother, if her tubes aren’t already dried up. The problem with this is that I can’t afford the embarrassment of being genetically linked to someone who can be best described as a “surfing ninja wrestler”.

It would be more than okay to impregnate a woman from Sydney or Melbourne or somewhere in the Northern Territory… but since Madness takes place in Perth, my opportunity to impregnate comes with too much risk of knocking up a Jason. At least with the women living directly in the city of Perth.

No, if I’m going to meet my pregnancy macros that I’ve set for this year, I’ll need to adapt to my surroundings. I’ll need to venture out, deep into the Outback.

To put it plainly, I’ll need to pipe out an abo.

By copulating with an aborigine, I will create a child that will have the greatest genetic variance from myself. It’s been scientifically proven that Aborigines are the furthest genetically from Europeans, which is obviously where my heritage stems from. The importance of variance relates to the sheer amount of children I plan to birth. I want each child to have an identity for themselves but also because I want to prove that I’m the least racist man on Earth. By having little basketball American Aidans running around with Chinese slant-eyed Aidans and taco-eating Mexican Aidans, it will prove how racially tolerant deez nuts are.

“We’re here!” the tour guide driving me proclaims, as the vehicle pulls to a stop where the road ends. We hop outside and look into the landscape ahead of us, where I’ll be venturing alone.

“So you’re positive that there are some aborigines out there?” I ask.

“Yeah, definitely. I don’t know how far out there… but there’s definitely abos out there” he responds while gesturing widely.

“Thanks for taking me.”

I take off my shirt and then my shorts and kick off my sandles. I then rip off my Marc Jacobs custom dick-hugging dong thong and toss it to the side.

“Why are you taking your clothes off, mate?” the guide asks me with a brow raised. If I wasn’t so aesthetic, he’d probably be offended.

“I want this journey to be primal in nature. By being naked, I’ll be providing myself an authentic hunter-gatherer experience where I’ll be hunting minge and gathering a life experience that will stay with me for the rest of my life.

“And plus… my body is a wonderland,” I say while gesturing towards my six pack abs. “Did you know that I wrote that song for John Mayer and originally had the lyrics written about myself? That tool went and changed it to ‘YOUR body is a wonderland’ because he needs his music to be sappy to get pussy. I get it just by looking so damn good, which is why I’m naked. Since I won’t be able to speak to these jungle broads, my nude body will be a language of its own, communicating that I want to take them to the bone zone.”

“I guess that makes sense… You still want me to pick you up at this spot in 3 days?”

“Yes. I’ll see you then, dude.”

With that, I start my journey and walk into the wilderness.

This shit should be easy.

- - - -

Back to present…

Someone should have told me it was a 40 mile journey into the outback to the first aborigine settlements. Australia is a far bigger country than I had imagined, the landscape dry and unforgiving. I guess I shouldn’t have used The Rescuers Down Under as my only reference material before leaving.

I have not found water nor have I found a proper source of food, outside of these weird tasting mushrooms I found (definitely not Porcini, of which I often dine on with Kanye West and Kim Kardashian at exclusive LA vegan restaurants). I can feel the effects my energy reserves being depleted, hour by hour. If not for my strength and perseverance as an American Patriot, I might already be dead.

There is an absurd amount of snakes and spiders out here, like an inconceivable fuck ton. I have to watch every step I take or risk being bitten by something that will undoubtedly lead to my undoing. I now understand why the English sent their convicts here, it’s literally hell on Earth. I swear I can’t go 30 steps without seeing a tarantula as big as a dog run across my path. Or maybe those are just 8-legged dingoes. I wouldn’t be surprised to encounter those in this place.

My balls are in constant pain; this is the first time in over a month I’ve gone a day without busting inside a sloot. If I masturbated, it would relieve some of the pressure on my taint but it would be needlessly wasteful. The only reasonable solution to my testicular discomfort is to find a bitch to fuck and soon. Jerking it would be too shameful and would only deplete my hydration further.

As I look down at my junk, my nuts seem to be bulging outwards from my body… filling with more and more strikingly potent baby goo. My time is dwindling. Catastrophe is near. My sac is about to go full Hindenburg.

We’ve all seen cartoons or motion pictures depicting a man traveling alone in the desert, his sanity slipping as time goes on. Perhaps he eventually hallucinates, seeing a mirage of a garden oasis. He is forced to deal with the reality that this is his last humanly journey. When does someone, in that situation, become aware of their own imminent death? Do they ever?

I don’t think I’ve been hallucinating, though. Seeing spiders and snakes constantly is just the reality of being in this part of the world. How does one reasonably conclude that they’re hallucinating anyway? Isn’t part of the deal that you think the things you are seeing are actually real?

“You’re not hallucinating, bro” a giant spider yells out to me from my side while dragging a dead bird by its neck. “You just need some pussy to clear your mind.”

The talking spider is right. I need to be stronger, more determined. Let faith in myself be my own religion and let it guide me to sweet, sweet victory.

I pick my pace up and it isn’t long before I’m at a full sprint. I kick up sand, scorpions, and snake eggs behind me, rushing through the Outback as fast as I can. I can feel an emotional connection that transcends time to my ancestors, who ran nude like this thousands of years ago while hunting woolly mammoths and Neanderthals into extinction. This my last stand.

Finally, in the distance, I start to see a rounded shape with a slit in the middle but it’s difficult to make out… It… It almost appears to be a giant vagina.

As I move nearer, the object becomes more definable, the view in increasing clarity. What I see is a shelter, made out of bark and cloth, fifty yards in front of me with a small fire in front that sends a continuous streak of gray smoke into the sky.

In usual circumstances, I would proceed with caution. The people who live in this abode do not hold modern morals and they could perceive me as a threat. Their nomadic nature has conditioned them to be fearful of outside threats and understandably so. Maybe they think it’s cool to just stab the fuck out of whitey.

These are no usual circumstances, though. I thirst for pussy and I thirst for… well, for water I guess.

I run directly towards the hut, disregarding all danger. When I reach the opening, I burst inside.

In the modest dwelling, I am surprised to see all females, about 20 of varying ages. Presumably the males are all out hunting (or drunken gambling if they’re like America’s natives). The women resemble the native Australians I’ve googled and seen in National Geographic, with dark skin and harsh features. All except for one…

A beautiful aborigine girl, her skin soft and brown, stands in the middle of the dwelling. Her hair is surprisingly light with traces of blond and her eyes are stunningly Amber, made bright by a ray of light that shines through the ceiling of the hut. I am taken back by her beauty, guessing her age to be in her early twenties. Her body is lean but curvy, with modest breasts that are appetizingly perky.

But it’s not her that my seed NEEDS in this time of primal need.

Standing behind her is a sturdy woman, maybe the young girl’s mother, with curly black hair that’s divinely Polamalu-esque. Her tits, lumpy and brown, sit on the top of her stomach. She wears a loin cloth of sorts but I can a slight pubis bulge from her nappy ass pussy hair. Her nose is flat and I can just tell that this bitch can take a punch. She will be the one to receive my seed and I have no doubt she will birth me a son.

Combining our genetics will undoubtedly create a eugenic monster. My future son will grow up in this squalor, learning to fight from fist fights with kangaroos and from his own battles with latent hunger. When the time is right and he has become the King of the Outback, he will venture out of this shithole and showcase the ambition of a Collins Man. He will undoubtedly become a pro fighter or Australian Rules rugby player. Those will literally be his only two options with his lack of education.

I walk up to my muse and stare deep into her charcoal black eyes. Blood has started circulating to my dick and I’m rocking a decent halfie by this point. It kind of makes me lightheaded thanks to my dehydration.

She looks down at my package and looks back up to me as a big spool of drool drips off her lower lip. She smiles a toothy grin, as in she only has one tooth left in her head.

I reach forward, grabbing one of her tits, and squeeze.

“Honky honk… Lemme get that donky donk.”

Though we do not speak the same language, the message is sent loud and clear. Without resistance, I pick her up into my arms and carry her out of the hut. Since I’m depleted of most of my strength, this is a burden until I realize I can support most of her weight on my boner.

I finally find a clearing in the land, placing her on the ground in a pile of dry dirt. I pull off her loin cloth and pat her furburger twice. She looks at me with reverence as I move on top of her; she likely thinks of me as some sort of foreign god.

As I penetrate her fluffy, bulgy pussy, I let a George of the Jungle yell that echoes through the landscape. She mimics my primal scream but her voice trails off as waves of pleasure rumble through her dumpy body.

I had risked my life to help spread my genetics and was almost defeated by the vast nothingness of the Australian wilderness. But now, as I thrust my dong into this squishy, damp clam, I can say with absolute certainty that the journey has been worth it.

Soon, my son will rule this landscape. But now, in this moment, I am the Outback’s King.