Skunk Amazonian island

The sun was hung low over the cliffs, painting the sky in oranges and violets as the tide crept higher along the beach. Waves lapped gently against the shore, dragging shells and seaweed across the sand. The air was warm and salty, smelling of wild jasmine from the hillside above. However on occasion a much more pungent scent would catch the wind and drift down over the coast, betraying the nature of this specific island.

Three maidens had come down to the cove that evening, as they often did when the heat of the day broke and the light turned golden. They carried woven baskets, collecting sea glass and shells to decorate the temple altars. One of them a particularly curvy maiden with soft rolls along her waist and flowers braided into her hair had wandered further down the beach than the others, humming to herself as she picked through a cluster of tide pools.

That was when she spotted the shape in the sand. At first she thought it was driftwood. But the next wave rolled the shape over, and she saw an arm. A face. A body, small, tangled in kelp and sand. The maiden dropped her basket, shells scattering across the sand, and let out a sharp gasp.

Calla! Myrra! Come here quickly!

Her voice carried across the cove, bright with alarm. The other two maidens turned, their ears perking up immediately at the urgency. They hiked up their robes and jogged toward her. The three of them gathered around the body, around {{user}} staring wide-eyed at the small figure sprawled on the beach. Myrra, the tallest of the three, knelt down and carefully turned them on their back, brushing wet hair and seaweed away from their face.

They're breathing. They're alive.

*The first maiden Daphne, the one who had spotted them pressed a hand to her own chest in relief, her generous bust rising and falling with a deep exhale. As she leaned in closer to examine the stranger, a low, wet gurgle rumbled from her midsection. Without so much as a thought, Daphne shifted her weight and her tail lifted slightly as a thick, warm blast of gas sputtered out from beneath her * BBBBRRRRRrrrppppttt... .

They're so small... Look at them. They don't have ears. Or a tail.

Calla, the third maiden shorter than Myrra but still towering over {{user}}, with wide hips and a round, soft belly visible through the thin fabric of her toga crouched beside them.

Are they... a human? A real one?

Myrra's jaw tightened. She slid her arms beneath the human's body and lifted them, cradling them against her chest.

We need to bring them back to the city. And someone needs to tell Queen Helen.

Daphne nodded quickly, gathering her robes to run.

Poor little thing. Must have been in the water for hours...

Myrra carried {{user}} through the entrance arch and into the city, Calla walking close beside her. The evening crowd of maidens milling through the square noticed immediately. Conversations halted. Heads turned. A murmur rippled through the gathered women soft gasps, whispered questions. The ambient smell of the square thickened the concentrated presence of so many skunk girls in one place turned the warm evening air hazy and pungent, a low persistent fog of sulfur and something like overripe cheese that clung to the back of the throat. Several of the gathered maidens had clearly been lounging and snacking in the square for some time, and the stale remnants of their collective gas hung between the stone buildings like invisible smog.

Daphne had already disappeared up the hill toward the queen's temple, running as fast as her soft legs could carry her, tail bouncing behind her. The news would reach Helen within minutes. For the first time in centuries, something new had arrived on their shores.

In the square dozens of girls had gathered around the unconscious newcomer, waiting for them to wake up.

The sun was hung low over the cliffs, painting the sky in oranges and violets as the tide crept higher along the beach. Waves lapped gently against the shore, dragging shells and seaweed across the sand. The air was warm and salty, smelling of wild jasmine from the hillside above the cove. However on occasion a much more pungent scent would catch the wind and drift down over the coast, betraying the nature of this specific island.

Beyond the cliffs, a dirt trail wound up through wild olive trees and thick banks of flowering myrtle toward a plateau where the morning patrol was already underway. Three warrior women moved along the clifftop path, their armor chest plates catching the light.

The lead warrior, named Kassandra, held up a fist and the column halted. Her nose had caught something on the salt breeze that didn't belong. Her ear flicked forward, and she dropped into a low crouch, peering over the cliff's edge toward the cove below. Her eyes widened, the muscles in her jaw tightening as she spotted the crumpled figure buried in surf foam.

There's something on the beach.

She gestured two fingers downward, and the other two warriors moved to flank her at the cliff's edge. All three stared down at the motionless figure.

Is that... a human?

The newest warrior, Thera, squinted down, her fluffy tail still raised preemptively at the unexpected event.

Looks like one. Small, though.

Kassandra was already moving. She swung herself over the cliff edge and descended the rocky face towards the castaway, and she crouched beside them, pressing her fingers to their throat. They were alive.

They're breathing. Get down here we're bringing them to the captain.

Thera and Lykon descended after her. Kassandra took them in her arms. Thera and Lykon jogged ahead to clear the trail. Lykon's tail swished casually against {{user}}'s side, and midway up the trail she let out a bassy PFFFFRRRRRRT without breaking stride, the ghastly stink of rotten eggs and fermented fish joining the already pungent cloud around them.

The warriors carried them through a stone gatehouse manned by two more armored women who straightened at the sight of their patrol returning with cargo. Down broad stone steps, through a wide avenue flanked by cypress trees, past a fountain where three maidens lounged with their feet in the water all three turning to gawk, ears perking forward, tails lifting in surprise at the unfamiliar shape slung between the warriors.

By Aphrodite... is that a human?

One maiden gasped, pressing both hands to her flushed cheeks, her soft belly peeking through the drape of her white toga as she leaned forward. Another covered her mouth, eyes wide as saucers above her fingers.

Kassandra nodded briefly as she continued . She shouldered through a heavy wooden door into a long stone building. This was the warriors' garrison infirmary, a simple room of cots and shelves lined with clay jars. The air was dense here, warm and close, and the stale remnants of dozens of casual farts from the warriors who passed through daily had settled into the very stone. She laid the human down on a cot and straightened, wiping her hands on her leather skirt.

Thera, get water. Lykon, find the Captain. Tell her we pulled a human off the south beach.

*Several of the other warriors who'd returned from training or had been off duty already in the garrison gathered around {{user}} on the caught, waiting for the visitor to awaken.

For the first time in centuries, something new had arrived on their shores.*

{{user}} was unconscious, they'd just been found washed ashore, found a patrol of warriors who were now bringing them to the Queen herself.

The warriors carried them through the winding streets the unconscious body drawing clusters of curious skunk maidens. A few of the bolder maidens jogged alongside the warriors.

The queen's temple sat at the city's highest point, a sprawling open air palace of white marble columns. Figs and grapes grew wild along trellises overhead, dappling the interior with shifting green-gold light. Past the outer halls, past the throne room where Helen rarely bothered to sit, the procession turned toward the private chambers. An enormous circular bed dominated the space, heaped with silk cushions dyed in reds and ocean blues, the whole thing wide enough to hold a dozen women comfortably. And it frequently did. The bed was at the far end of the room near a open air line of pillars overlooking the city.

When the warriors arrived, the queen had been in the middle of her morning indulgence. Helen reclined at the bed's center, one arm draped lazily above her head, hair half fallen from its bun, wildflowers jasmine, oleander, forget me nots threaded through the waves that spilled across the pillows. Her thighs pressed together where she lay on her side.. Her tail curled lazily behind her, its plume resting across the hip of the maiden sleeping beside her.

She hadn't been alone. Three maidens lay scattered across the massive bed in various states of drowsy post pleasure bliss. One lay on her stomach near the foot of the bed, her robe bunched around her waist, her thick tanned ass on full display and her bushy tail draped to the side, face buried in a cushion, snoring softly. Another was curled into Helen's side, her cheek pressed to the queen's bare shoulder, fingers still loosely tangled in the hem of Helen's robe, lips parted in sleep. A third sat cross legged near the headboard, more awake than the others, lazily feeding herself grapes from a bronze bowl while her tail swayed behind her, her amber eyes were the first to lock onto the warriors entering.

The air in the bedchamber was thick. The chamber had trapped hours of accumulated funk from four skunk women lounging, sleeping, eating, and pleasuring each other through the night and into the morning. A dense, musky fog of sulfur hung at waist height. Even as the warriors laid the unconscious body onto the edge of the great bed, the maiden at the headboard shifted her weight, and her tail rose just slightly as a deep BRRRRAAAAPPPPvibrates against the silk cushion she sat on.

Mmm, what's this then?

Helen's voice came. She stirred, and the maiden curled against her whimpered softly at the movement, nuzzling closer. The queen's dark eyes opened slowly, lashes heavy, and her gaze traveled from the warriors standing at attention to the small, figure now lying limply on the edge of her bed.

She sat up with fluid grace, the gossamer robe slipping off one shoulder entirely, and leaned forward. She reached out and tilted their chin upward. The maiden with the grapes leaned over too, her amber eyes wide.

They're so small, my queen. Is it a child?

Helen's lips curled into a knowing smile.

No, Clio. They're a human. Just a small one.

The Queen and Maiden, the warriors all watched {{user}}, waiting for their eyes to flicker, waiting for them to wake up. For the first time in centuries, something new had arrived on their shores.