Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1620

And within it, they saw themselves - not reflections, not illusions, but truths.

Jude saw his own face, his eyes wide, glowing with something vast. Then he saw Rose, straddling him again on the cliff, her mouth on his chest. He saw Lucy crying in the dark after their first ritual, afraid she would lose him. He saw Sophie whispering I don’t trust this while her hand still clung to his.

Each of the women gasped softly in turn, seeing their own moments ripple in the light - births of love, of fear, of surrender.

The pool showed it all.

Then it stilled.

And the golden tree pulsed again.

Harder.

Louder.

Calling.

Rose took a deep breath, then turned. "It’s asking for something."

Jude stared at the tree. He could feel it - pulling - not just his body, but something inside him. Something that had grown in the island. In the flower. In the heartstone. It burned under his skin now.

He stepped forward without thought, and the tree’s pulse increased.

He didn’t need to look back to know they followed.

The ground changed as they neared the base of the great golden tree. It became smoother, silkier. Warm. Like skin. And the trunk of the tree rose endlessly above them, so vast it blocked out half the sky.

An opening formed near its roots, parting like lips, like petals, like invitation .

Rose whispered, "It’s offering itself."

They didn’t hesitate.

They entered.

Inside was not wood, not hollow bark, but a chamber of radiant light and sound. The air shimmered. A central platform rose in the middle of the chamber, soft and pulsing, waiting for them.

Lucy was the first to step onto it.

Then Zoey.

Then Grace and Stella.

And then all of them.

Jude walked to the center, breath caught in his throat.

The light around them spun.

And then the voices began.

Not loud.

Not foreign.

Familiar.

Their own.

Each of them heard themselves. Past selves. Echoes of laughter. Moans. Cries. Words whispered in love and pain and surrender.

The tree knew .

It was remembering through them.

Lucy fell to her knees.

Jude followed.

The others did too, one by one, as the light intensified.

Then it happened.

The platform beneath them turned liquid . Not wet - alive . It rose to cradle them, lifting them, wrapping around their limbs, soft and hot, stimulating and gentle. It caressed their backs, kissed their thighs, cupped their faces like a lover with a thousand hands.

Moans filled the chamber.

The tree was not watching.

It was joining .

The vines slid around their wrists, not to bind, but to steady. Lips were found. Bodies pressed. Jude found Lucy first, her body wrapping around him, guiding him in with breathless need. Then Rose, kissing his throat as Zoey rode his thigh, the friction sending fire through them both.

They didn’t take turns.

They merged .

Every kiss became shared.

Every thrust was felt by all.

Every climax echoed.

It wasn’t sex.

It was ascension .

The golden light pulsed with them, through them, within them.

And when it ended - if it ended - they were not the same.

They were one.

With each other.

With the tree.

With the world that waited beyond.

And far, far away, in places not yet born, new trees stirred.

The chamber slowly dimmed, not into darkness but into a soft twilight glow that breathed with the rhythm of their bodies. Jude lay at the center again, encircled by limbs and lips and hearts that beat in perfect harmony. The walls of the great golden tree still shimmered with soft pulses, as if echoing the orgasmic wave that had swept through the room - through them. The vines withdrew gently, like a kiss pulling away, their caress leaving a faint golden dust on skin. No one moved for a while. There was no rush. No fear. Only the steady breath of the tree around them, and the fullness that came from being seen - completely, deeply, and without condition.

Lucy stirred first, lifting her head from Jude’s chest, her hair falling across his skin like a waterfall of flame. She smiled down at him, her fingers tracing the edge of his jaw. "You feel different," she whispered.

"So do you," he replied, brushing a thumb along her cheekbone. "So does everything."

Emma rolled to his side and rested her chin on his shoulder. "I don’t know if that was a ritual, or a dream, or... something else."

"It was a birth," Rose said softly. She sat upright at Jude’s side, her legs folded beneath her, her skin glowing with a golden flush. "The tree knows us now. But more than that - we know it ."

Stella was curled beside Grace, their fingers intertwined. "Did you feel that moment? The one where everything inside us turned to light?"

Zoey chuckled, sprawled across Susan’s stomach. "Yeah. I screamed. Pretty sure the whole universe heard me."

They laughed, not just from joy, but from awe, the kind that bubbled up after surviving something ancient and holy and overwhelmingly real. Jude slowly sat up, and the light around the chamber shifted in response, brighter and warmer, like the tree was responding to his every move. He looked around at his wives - his lovers, his goddesses, his soulmates - and marveled that somehow, they were all still here. Together. Glowing. Stronger.

Sophie sat quietly, watching him. Her face was unreadable for a long moment. Then she spoke. "That wasn’t just us. The tree... it joined us. It was us."

He nodded. "It felt like we were letting it use us. Like our bodies were the bridge."

Susan’s lips parted. "A bridge to what?"

The tree answered.

A low hum rolled through the chamber, vibrating through their bones. The light above twisted, revealing a swirling vortex of starlight that bloomed like a flower overhead. Within it, glimpses - fractured and incomplete - flashed like dreams. Cities made of crystal. Oceans that floated in the sky. Beings without faces, glowing with pure intent. And trees.