Chapter 1

We needed to get to land; Cindy was 8 months pregnant and getting too big for the small yacht. And too big for my bunk, too.

My name is Fred; Captain Fred. I’m a sea bum. People think I’m a millionaire because I have my own boat; what I really am is a homeless transient. I sail from one tourist trap to another, screw tourist girls, take charters or do odd jobs on other boats.

I’m a weatherbeaten, sun damaged white man. 1.78 meters, 5’10”. I’m considered good looking, and do ok with the females. At the start of my story, I’m 48 years old and have been at sea for half my life.

I’d picked up Cindy at a tiny anchorage in Northern Australia; she’d swum out to Sweet Christine and hauled herself aboard. Six hours later, we were in bed together, and a few days after that, we sailed away.

It wasn’t the sort of crazy connection I’d had with some women, like Heather for instance; Cindy was ok though. She was cheerful and easy going. Not much of a cook, but she tried.

A year later, a storm had ripped out Sweet Christine’s rigging, so we were relying on the engine. It wasn’t running well, it was making more and more smoke and bad noises. I was trying to make it to a decent Philippine marina I knew, but the motor gave out in the deep and we were adrift.

We got rescued by a fishing boat; the captain didn’t speak English, but got on the radio to his boss who did. Then he towed us to a nearby populated island; at least it had a hospital and an airstrip.

I knew nothing about the place. There are lots of islands out there, hundreds. Most were tiny, some had permanent residents but zero infrastructure.

Anyway, the harbor was small and not well sheltered. I was allowed use the single jetty to unload, and then to anchor nearby. There wasn’t a lot of boat left; the hull was good, but with no sailing rig and a scrap motor. It was just the two of us aboard.

I still had some cash, and I was never one to worry too far into the future. The fishing boat owner came down the jetty to meet us; a friendly guy, a bit too smooth. He told us he could rent us his old house, he’d just moved into a new one. His name was Barry.

Cindy was too close to term to travel; I rented his villa for us. It was nice; on a hill overlooking the harbor so I could keep an eye on my boat, it had solar panels and an ingenious air-conditioning system that made ice during the day, then used that to cool one of the two bedrooms at night. A compound wall and a little garden, running water from a tank on a short tower that was recharged from a well down in the valley below.

Cindy was in her mid thirties, good looking, and irritating. She was ok as crew, she did her work without complaint. She wasn’t anything special as a lover, not that I’m complaining. She was a good sport, and two decades younger than me. She had crooked teeth, scraggly dirty blond hair, short legs, a nice ass, and pretty blue eyes. She gave good head. Really good.

Then she got pregnant. Yeah, I’d fucked her, and now I was fucked. I never wanted kids, but here we were, stranded in paradise in the Philippines.

We hired a woman to help with the housework; that is, she looked like a woman. I didn’t realize she had a cock until one day I saw her peeing against a tree out in the garden.

“Cindy, did you know the housekeeper is transexual?” I asked my bulging girlfriend.

“Of course. Half of this island is transexual, you didn’t notice? There are hardly any men except the tourists.” She said with her annoying Australian twang.

I’d been so busy with my own worries, I’d been completely oblivious; almost all the tourists were middle aged men. There was no reason to come all the way out here other than to fuck.

Anyway, the hospital was pretty good; although I kept wondering whether the doctor and nurses had vaginas or penises, it didn’t matter. They knew their work, Cindy gave birth slightly early.

Then she ran off. Her clothes and passport, camera and laptop all vanished with her. And I was left literally holding the baby.

Ok, I have to admit that I was happy she was gone. I liked her ok as a fuck buddy and bunk mate when she was slim and sexy. I never wanted a wife and baby and I had never really made an emotional connection with her.

Only, I still had the baby. He was an ugly little thing too.

Oh, I’m not supposed to say that? Well, it was true. I had no feeling for the little worm, but it was my worm and we were stranded on a tropical island together.

I named him Heath, after Heather, the women who had given birth to my only known biological offspring.

“There’s no formula on the island.” The doctor told me. “Actually, none in the whole country right now. We used to import from China, then it was found to be mixed with gypsum and it was all impounded. Now there’s a shortage, can’t get reliable stuff. You need a wetnurse: I can make a call if you want.”

Dr. Garcia was a small person with a male face and female hair on a blatantly female body. Round glasses, and a lot of gold jewelry. One day a few weeks later, I saw her in a dress, and shall therefore refer to her in the female.

I was surprised that Barry, my new landlord, showed up at the hospital.

“You want milk-girl?” he asked me, “No problem, I have one girl for you. Not cheap, haha.” He tried to pretend to laugh, when actually he was really laughing.

I noticed that there were almost no children; the place seemed normal at first glance, just another Asian tourist trap. Then I slowly began to notice things. Like the hospital, it was quite something for a tiny island with a population of 30,000. Well stocked, several surgeons and good facilities.

There were 3 beauty solons, 2 nail salons, a few boutiques, shoe stores, bars, restaurants, clubs, and that sort of thing. But nowhere to buy engine parts. Actually, there were almost no cars. There were a few roads, and several ancient ex-military trucks that delivered goods from the port to wherever it had to go.

Old white guys walked around with sexy young girls, like some places in Laos and Thailand I’d been. It was bad, yet it was also just reality. What else did these people have to sell except their bodies? I didn’t agree with it, but I understood.

My landlord was a cagey old bastard. We haggled and agreed a price, the girl came to feed the baby before we even left the hospital, then came home with us.

She was small, very cute with big eyes, big breasts, and short thick black hair like a helmet. She had a really nice smile too.

Slowly, the shock of becoming a single parent dissipated. I started working on sourcing a replacement motor for Sweet Christine, she was bobbing around in the bay below. I figured it would take months to get a new motor brought out to me, and then I’d install it, and at some distant future point, I could motor to a bigger island with a marina that could replace the mast.

I’d been the captain of Sweet Christine for 5 years; she’d saved my life, provided me sustenance, and I’d had a lot of sex onboard. I wasn’t sure she was economically viable at that moment, but I intended to go ahead anyway. Eventually.

I turned around to where the girl was on the bed, nursing my boy. She smiled at me coyishly. Damn, she sure had great tits.

Later, I came out of the shower and sat on the bed, looking out through the big window at the sea. It felt odd to be on land again. There were a thousand problems in my mind; the baby needed paperwork, I had to contact a consulate, how could I even prove it was my baby? The boat, money, food, clothing...

I woke up to find the girl looking at me. Damn she was cute. Her small hands gently pulled aside the towel that was covering my groin, and then she lowered her face to my cock. She rubbed the tip around her face, and seemed conflicted about it; or maybe that was me.

“You don’t have to do that.” I said gently.

“It’s included.” She informed me, and popped the end in her mouth.

I knew I shouldn’t; damn it felt good though. I really needed it, and apparently I was paying for it already.

I’d never done it with a hooker, never. These islands, all of Asia was crawling with them. I always found women who wanted to crew my boat, and my bunk. I guess it was always transactional. Anyway, I let the wetnurse suck my rod, and it was wonderful. I stroked her silky thick hair and looked into her big dark eyes as her cute face bobbed up and down patiently. She was really good at it; and after a few minutes, I had a very nice orgasm, which she swallowed dutifully.

She shared the bed with me, and we cuddled a little, and she sucked me off once a day, and cooked and cleaned too, always looking great. I stroked her back, kissed her perfect tight round ass, and one day, after a week or so, put my hand on her crotch. It turns out that transexuals can breast feed if they’ve had the right hormones.

She seemed amused and delighted that I hadn’t realized she wasn’t a genetic female.

“You can do it to me if you want.” She told me.

“It’s included?” I asked.

“Yes.” She agreed.

“I’ve never done that.” I told her, “Anal sex.”

“Me neither.” She told me, “You me first.”

“YOU’RE MY first.” I corrected her. she smiled and nodded appreciation. “So were you always a girl in your mind?”

“Oh no, not at all.” She told me, “I born on a small island, very poor, fishing and rice. I’m small, so small, boys like me go to tourist islands to work as girls. I have a wife and baby at home, now I can send money.”

I almost choked as I realized that the ‘girl’ who’d been sucking me off every day was a heterosexual married man.

“You’re very good.” I told her, or him. “I really believed you wanted to do it.”

“I did, I do want to do it.” Tara claimed, “I need to do it. I want to go work on Cebu, earn good there.” She hefted her tits, squeezing the big nipples. “These will pay for a house, school, everything.”