The man fought for consciousness, undecipherable shouting and flashes of light reaching his senses as he tried to open his eyes and wake up. He felt a heavy sense of grogginess clouding him, his muscles screaming in protest, as he slowly forced his eyes open, wincing as the sunlight beat down upon with more ferocity than he’d ever seen it. He certainly hadn’t drunk any alcohol as of late, but this sure felt like a hangover.
As the throbbing headache yelled at him, he tried to think back, not quite sure what was going on. Only yesterday he’d been sailing the waters between Florida and the Caribbean islands in his motorboat, looking forward to a long vacation. He hadn’t really bothered to tell anyone he was leaving, but he hadn’t really felt like being pestered by anyone. Of course, that also meant that no one knew where he was or where he had been going when the storm struck.
It came out of nowhere, massive booms of thunder that he could barely hear over the vicious waves pounding and smashing against his boat. His attempts at steering did little to help as the boat was batted back and forth like the ocean’s little plaything. The last thing he’d remembered from then was a massive wave hitting him and washing him overboard, knocking him out in the process.
It had been early morning when he woke up on a white sandy beach. Coughing, he’d stood and looked around for any sign of his boat. Nothing but the vibrant blue-green water and the softly swaying trees and ferns. Had he been less concerned about his predicament, he might have enjoyed the tropical view he’d only really seen in pictures and movies. After some time wandering the beach, he’d walked into the jungle, hoping to find something, anything... And he’d found something all right. He walked right into a clearing and found himself face to face with several men, barely clothed and powerfully painted with energetic reds and chalky whites that stood out against their dark skin. One of them shot him with a dart of some kind and he’d gone right back to sleep’s warm embrace...
He looked around as his eyes adjusted to the light. His arms were being held by two tall men, each only wearing a tight loincloth but both rippling with muscle. He tried to struggle, but between the muscle difference and whatever drug or poison they’d put in him sapping his strength, he might as well have been fighting against a wall. He screamed, fighting them still as he was dragged up a tall set of stairs. To his right, the wall they were climbing the side of rose up. It must have been fifty or sixty feet. Looking to his left, he could see the beach, so far away now, and realized he was hopelessly caught with little chance of escape.
Finally, the stairs ended, and the two men dragged him towards a large platform that reached out over the far side of the wall; they bound him with thick rope in a spread eagle formation, and he realized for the first time that they’d taken off all his clothes, leaving him naked and exposed. He desperately wished he could move his hands to cover himself as he looked to either side, seeing dozens if not hundreds of other savages on top of the wall. They were all stomping their feet on the wood and chanting something. “KON-GA! KON-GA!” Konga? What was that?
Suddenly, a loud thud drew his attention forward. Before him, on the other side of the wall, a grassy field extended several hundred feet. Beyond that, trees that must have been close to a hundred feet tall towered over him and the wall. He could see the trees start to shake as something got closer. Something BIG.
Nothing could have compared him for what emerged. A man, as dark-skinned as the natives and as bare as him, but with one notable difference. He was taller than the wall, close to seventy feet! He squirmed, trying to free himself from his restraints again as the titanic man drew closer. The giant was chiseled with powerful muscle, and between his legs, his flaccid cock hung, incredibly large even for his huge stature.
This was Konga. The enormous man stood before the wall, eyeing the tiny white man before him. Even though he was dozens of feet away, he could smell the thick musk of the other man: a mixture of sweat, testosterone, and dirt and grime that reeked of masculinity and power. A hand as big as he was came down and wrapped around him, pulling him up and away from the platform; the restraints fell away, apparently designed to break under force from such an angle. He looked down at the captive in his hand, a thoughtful expression on his face.
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