Weeks passed. There was still no sign of any rescuers or search party coming to find Maggie. She knew better than to ask the Tineri for help in returning to the opulent lifestyle she had known.
Instead, she settled into some kind of a routine. She slept in M’li’s hut by night. By day, she shadowed M’li as she did her chores, preparing hides and food, foraging, finding water, and washing up. At mealtime, they sat together often while M’li made conversation with the other Tineri. In their spare time, M’li instructed Maggie in the language. Maggie found that she could understand more and more and even have simple conversations with the Tineri.
Her daily trips to the brook to wash and get fresh water brought her by her old boots and socks. For a few days after she abandoned them, she was tempted to take them back with her, in preparation for her eventual departure and return to civilization. That urge diminished over time, and Maggie found that she actually loved walking barefoot all the time. Her sock tan quickly dissipated, and her feet took on a golden tan. Her soles thickened with use and protected her from nicks and scrapes from walking on sticks and rocks. Regular application of s’mati leaves left those same feet soft and blemish-free. The moist ground beside the brook was especially pleasant to walk through - Maggie enjoyed the cool muck surrounding her toes as she stepped, and the dirt was easily removed with s’mati.
With her feet persistently bare, Maggie began to take a strong interest in feet. She kept hers clean and soft and also began to appreciate the feet of the Tineri women. The long nails were a bit much, and that amount of foot jewelry looked ridiculous (and probably felt strange). Still, Maggie was inspired by their example to take the two rings she wore on her fingers and move them to the index and middle toes of her left foot. One ring was a simple band of silver, the other, a gift from Juliana last Christmas, was silver with a blue streak in the middle. Within hours of putting on the rings, Maggie couldn’t feel them on her toes anymore, but she really like seeing them when she looked at her feet. It was surprising to Maggie how much she liked her toe rings, especially given how repulsive she used to find them.
Eventually, Maggie had no interest in reclaiming her boots. She liked looking at her pretty feet, and she liked feeling the ground under her. Moreover, she probably couldn't wear them any more - free of the constraints of shoes, her feet had widened noticeably. She couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to coop her feet up in boots. Even flip-flops sounded horrible.
One day, as Maggie walked into their hut, M’li, already lounging on the bed, acknowledge Maggie’s increased interest in footcare. “Your feet are very pretty. You have done a good job with the s’mati. I like your toe rings.”
Maggie beamed. She looked at M’li’s feet, with their dark tops and peach-colored, smooth soles. She also looked at M’li’s toes, most of which bore stacks of metal rings and all of which had toenails so long they were beginning to bend. Maggie had worshipped them many times at that point, but always reluctantly. At this moment, though, those feet looked cute.
“We should get you some real toe rings,” M’li said, wiggling her toes in response to Maggie’s gaze. “And you really need to grow your nails out.”
Maggie thought for a moment about it - what would she look like with stacks of toe rings on most of her toes and long toenails? Would that take her from a beach bum look to … something else? Could that be a … sexy look? Were M’li’s feet … sexy? Had she developed a … foot fetish in her time with the Tineri?
Shaking off those feelings, Maggie smiled and said simply, “Maybe someday.” She backed out of the hut shaking her head, as if to rid herself of these unwanted thoughts. She was from America, meaning that she belonged back in civilization, she told herself. And civilized people didn’t have foot fetishes.
*****
Maggie quickly adjusted to being topless. Her pale bust became as bronzen as the rest of her. Wouldn’t Juliana be jealous of her “all-over” tan, once she got back? Over time, though, what was once naughty to her simply became a fact of life. It was simply her lot to feel the morning sun on her nipples, and a warm breeze on her areolas.
One thing she disliked, though, was the constant teasing from other Tineri about her breasts. Since she arrived, they would poke her in the chest, say something, and walk off. Now that she could understand their words, Maggie was hurt. Because her breasts were so much smaller, they called her flat-chested, and because she was white (albeit tan), they said she had ugly boobs. What hurt Maggie the most, though, was when they grabbed her nipples and called her an outsider. Whether this was because of her skin color or bust size, or even because she didn’t have horseshoes hanging from her tits, was unclear.
It was also unclear to Maggie why this bothered her. She was, after all, an outsider. She had every intention of leaving these primitives to wallow in their own filth. Right? So why did it bother her that they were calling her out on this, or that she didn’t meet their stupid standards for beauty.
Maggie didn’t get immediate answers to her questions. Instead, she found herself looking at the Tineri women and admiring their breasts. What would she look like, with huge, pierced tits, she wondered before dismissing the thought. Maybe she’d consider breast implants once she was back in Miami, but until she was rescued, she needed to focus on getting home.
*****
Help didn’t arrive, though. After a month of routine tribal life, Maggie’s safari shorts and underwear disintegrated. The constant use, including regular submersion into the brook, simply destroyed them. With M’li’s assistance, Maggie fashioned herself a loincloth out of leather and cordage.
This had the effect of exposing Maggie’s pussy and ass to the air. An earlier version of Maggie would have recoiled with embarrassment at the thought of walking around nude except for two small leather patches over her crotch, but Maggie found she enjoyed the occasional breeze up her twat. That realization led Maggie to reflect on other ways she had changed. An earlier version of Maggie also wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing toe rings, but Maggie loves hers now. And perhaps most glaringly of all, an earlier version of Maggie would never parade around topless, let alone live without a top for weeks. How was she going to go back to wearing tops, underwear, shorts, and shoes?
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