We were making history on this trip. Our research team, consisting of myself and five other well qualified scientists were being shuttled to the island of Gravitta, located not far off the coast of our sister country. We sat and joted our pre-journey notes and expectations, hoping to gauge the effectiveness and tactical usefulness of the Graveet method of child rearing. The Graveet, a pragmatic people, didn’t leave their pregnancy and childbirth up to just anyone, but rather chose their genetically best suited females to carry the burden of repopulating their culture. These women, chosen for their beauty, intelligence, and aptitude, were constantly pregnant with multiple babies, birthing one set only to be inseminated again as soon as possible. We traditionally would recoil at the thought of this; these women subjected to a breeding-stock lifestyle, but had been given pause by the advancements of their people. Since putting the breeding plan in place, the health of their population has gone through the roof. Everyone is healthy and fit; there are few if any defects or illnesses. As we move forward, if we can keep our own population healthy in the same way it has to be investigated.
I’m personally skeptical of the living conditions and fulfillment of these women. I’m determined to really get to their motivations and surroundings. Can someone be happy merely as a tool for an entire society? Is there the necessary self-actualization you need to be well rounded and content? I intend to find out.
The Graveet general briefs us on things to be aware of on the island (plants to avoid, heat and weather conditions, things like that) and we begin our descent onto the lush, resplendent island. I’ll reassess after we have settled. I will continue to aim to report what I see, what I experience, what I hear and what I am told.
We’ve now settled on the island and have already begun learning the Gravitta customs and practices. We are residing in their custom-built area, meant only for their breeders and the “personnel”. More on that later. Their area is named Eden, and it’s fairly fitting. The women here live in the lap of luxury, every need and whim met as they gestate the next generation. From fattening five-star meals to the highest quality accommodations and surroundings, they never seem to want for anything. And I mean ANYTHING.
The women themselves, as advertised, all seem to be pregnant, many enormously so. I suspect that the women with the “smaller” bellies are just earlier in their own multiples pregnancy. Some women are so big they can barely walk. I’ve been told there are ones so big they can’t leave their beds at all and I don’t doubt it. They all epitomize curves and femininity, with their full, lush breasts and soft, fertile hips that hold fat, gravid bellies while they waddle around making themselves as happy and comfortable as possible during their tropical pregnancy. The heat is oppressive here, leading to some interesting wardrobe choices. The girls parade themselves around proudly in the skimpiest, tightest clothing they can find. Some choose the simplest route and go nude with no shame or hesitation. They all appreciate one another and love showing off for their peers and the personnel I mentioned.
Eden is littered with men who are at the beck and call of the women, tending to island maintenance, upkeep and services. More importantly, or at least more visibly, the men are here to be sex slaves to the women. I suspect they as well have been chosen specially for this job, because they all seem to be in peek physical shape. I don’t know how “enslaved” they feel, but can’t go long without seeing two people either deep in foreplay or, how can I say this, beyond that.
Interesting enough to note, as I observed during a few sex sessions going on around my complex, both genders appear to be very “sexual”. By which I mean, the women have enormous breasts (I’d wager most to be average an E-cup at least) and the men have equally impressive members, some so big I can’t believe the women can accommodate them (but they find a way).
Yes, it seems most everyone is obsessed with sex here. The women all vie for attention with skimpy clothing and seductive come-ons, and the men treat the women like goddesses walking the earth. The obsession is nearly tangible; you can smell sweet sex in the air at all hours. Or at least all the few hours I have been here. Carrying that smell is the constantly high humidity, the price of being on a gorgeous island. I’ve taken the advice given to me and have been having to drink water non-stop just to deal. I need to keep my wits about me as I continue my studies.
The island has been incredibly gracious while we have stayed here for the last few days, acclimating to the climate and culture. Aside from the gorgeous view (both the scenery and the inhabitants), we have been paired with an island guide. They are women in the program who are early enough into their pregnancy that they won’t be caught up in their last preparations before birth. I suppose having someone to show around keeps them busy and their minds off something besides their swelling waistlines and ankles. My peers and I all are very interested in what is going on here on Gravitta. I can’t stop thinking about these women, to the point that I worry I am losing my scientific composure. I keep masturbating to the images of their young, nubile flesh, I dream about fucking them and every time I see one of them in their nearly uniformly seductive wardrobe I can feel an erection spreading down my leg. I am torn about this guide program, pulled by my scientific interest in learning about the people and what I want to do to my guide.
They have done me no favors in granting me one of the most beautiful women I have seen here to act as my guide and concierge. Her name is Ali, and she oozes sex from every pore, movement and sentiment. Her bright blue eyes and dirty blonde hair highlight her flawless, angular face. I have already caught myself staring at her plump, deep-red lips, parting to perfectly pearly-white teeth. Her face is model-caliber beautiful but I am obsessed with her body.
Ali is four and a half months pregnant with quadruplets, something she told me proudly the first time we met. Like all of the women, she flaunts her pregnancy (order of multiples and months) as a badge of honor and unity. Her full belly would be considered quite gravid where we come from, but it’s really pretty mild here. She teases me to guess exactly how big she measures, but I’ve yet to get it exactly right. I do know, however, that her belly is big enough to fill her abdomen so her big breasts seem even perkier and firmer than before if it were possible. It’s clear that this is not her first pregnancy, even though there isn’t a hint of a stretch mark.
Meeting her for the first time, I was brought into her home, an open, comfortable loft she had filled with art and expensive-looking furniture. The plan was to have her lead me around the campus for a woman’s perspective on the lifestyle. I knocked and she yelled for me to come in and wait for her as she finished getting ready for our day. I sat down and made myself a large drink of water waiting for her. She finally walked out in an outfit I am still in disbelief over, a sheer white sleeveless undershirt (her lack of a bra was evident, her dark, crinkled nipples very visible) and jean shorts cradling her curvy hips and plump ass, the zipper shoved all the way down by her belly. Her top was just a bit too small, resting just above her outie belly button showing a crescent of tanned belly. Completing her outfit (if you could call it that, really) was a pair of low, 2-inch heels.
She paused for a moment in the doorway, letting me take her in for the first time. Her tan skin glowed and I would have sworn she was an angel sent to me. I think I may have actually sat there with my mouth wide open until she introduced herself and we chatted about our backgrounds and goals. She seemed really excited to get to know me, laughing at my little jokes and playing with her hair. I hope I can maintain my professionalism while I’m around her. She may be onto my attraction though. When giving her a hand off the couch her shirt rode all the way up to show off every inch of her big, round belly and she just tucked in under her breasts with a proud grin. She then arched her back and pulled me in, saying “feel the babies”. In that close to a woman this sexual my body overrode my poise and I started getting erect. She kept pulling me in so close, moving my hands around her belly and my penis was pressed against her too tightly for her not to notice. She didn’t say anything, but didn’t let my hand go as she led me away to the car to begin our trip.
I’ll check back in throughout the day. I have no idea what this day will bring, but with Ali I am happy.