Suyash POV:
The fire burned down to glowing embers, casting a faint orange light across the tangled bodies on the beach. My women slept soundly—exhausted and sated—their naked forms intertwined like a Renaissance painting come to life. Babita's head rested on Komal's thick thigh. Daya spooned Anjali from behind, one hand cupping her soft breast even in sleep. Madhavi lay on her stomach, her brownish-pink skin luminous in the moonlight. Her toned legs were free of the tangled limbs. Anita had claimed a spot slightly apart. She was curled on her side with one arm outstretched toward me; her fingers brushed my ankle.
Six women. All mine. They were all utterly convinced that this island was a twist of fortune that had delivered them into my arms.
None of them knew the truth.
I waited until their breathing became deep and rhythmic and the soft sounds of sleep—murmurs, sighs, and the occasional shift of limbs—told me it was safe. Then, I carefully extracted myself from the pile of warm flesh, easing Daya's leg off my thigh and sliding out from under Babita's arm. Anjali made a small sound of protest, but she didn't wake. Her fingers curled into the empty space where I had been. Anita's fingers twitched, but didn't grasp.
The sand was cool beneath my bare feet as I walked toward the treeline. The nearly full moon was high in the sky, silvering the lagoon and casting the jungle in shades of blue and black. I found my trousers where I'd left them, draped over a palm frond, and retrieved my phone from the pocket.
The screen glowed to life. No signal—of course. I'd made sure of that. The cloaking field that hid this island from satellites also scrambled any attempt at communication. To the outside world, we had simply vanished into the Indian Ocean—another mystery for the conspiracy theorists.
But the screen had other uses. So did I.
I sat on a fallen log at the edge of the clearing with the phone in my hands. My power hummed beneath my skin, eager and hungry. It had replenished itself since the massive energy drain of creating the island. Now, it wanted to be used. However, I wasn't going to carry supplies back to camp like a common scavenger. That would be inefficient. Amateur.
I had a better idea.
I closed my eyes and reached inward, past the screen-pull power, to the secondary ability I had acquired months ago: The System Inventory. It was pulled from an isekai anime—one of those shows where the hero has a floating menu that only he can see with slots for weapons, items, and endless storage. After watching the episode, I felt the familiar tingle and reached through the screen to pull the concept itself into my reality.
Now, it was as natural as breathing.
I focused, and the inventory interface shimmered into existence before me—translucent blue panels visible only to me. Most of the grid slots were empty, but a few contained items I'd stored for emergencies: A bottle of aged whiskey. A silk robe. A small fortune in gold coins. The serum that had transformed Komal.
I dismissed the interface and turned my attention to the phone.
Time to stock up.
The first pull was small—a comprehensive first aid kit from a medical drama series. I reached through the screen, my fingers passing into the realm where fiction becomes reality, and closed them around the cool plastic of the kit. When I withdrew my hand, the kit materialized in my palm. It contained bandages, antiseptic, scissors, tape, burn cream, and suture supplies. Everything a stranded group might need and more.
I opened the inventory with a thought and slotted the kit inside. It vanished from my hand and appeared as a small icon in one of the grid squares. Efficient. Silent.
Next were water purification tablets, inspired by a survival documentary. Two bottles, sixty tablets each. Into the inventory.
Next, fishing line and hooks from an outdoor sports commercial.
A high-quality folding knife with a bone handle.
Solar charger with multiple USB ports that was pulled from a tech review channel.
LED lantern. Duct tape. A basic cookware set with a pot, a pan, and utensils. Sunscreen—because my women's beautiful skin deserved protection, even if this island's sun was as curated as everything else. I stacked all of it neatly in their designated slots as it flowed through my hands and into the inventory.
The power hummed contentedly. The drain was minimal; these were simple, uncomplicated objects. The inventory made it even easier. I didn't have to carry anything physically; I could just channel the items directly into storage.
For comfort, I added a few more things: a bag of premium coffee beans (Daya would appreciate that; her maternal warmth extended to making morning brew), a box of luxury chocolates (Babita's secret weakness), a bottle of scented massage oil (Komal would find creative uses for that), a silk blindfold (Anita liked those), and a soft cashmere throw blanket (Anjali got cold at night despite the tropical warmth).
For Madhavi, I pulled a small sewing kit with needles, thread, and scissors. She would appreciate the practicality, and it would give her something to do during quiet moments.
When I finished, my inventory was stocked with enough supplies to ensure not just survival, but a luxurious lifestyle. The women would never suspect. They'd believe we were simply lucky, blessed by the island's strange bounty.
I rose from the log and walked toward the wrecked plane, which was still half-submerged on the reef. The water was warm around my calves as I waded out and climbed onto the wing. The cabin door hung open, just as we had left it. Inside, the emergency lighting still flickered weakly, powered by the last dregs of the AI's energy.
I opened my inventory and began placing items with deliberate care. Not all in one spot—that would look staged. I scattered them around as if they'd been there all along and we'd simply missed them in our initial panic.
The first aid kit was placed in an overhead compartment marked with a faded red cross. I put the water purification tablets in a drawer in the galley, next to some plastic cups. I tucked the fishing gear under a seat cushion, half-hidden. I put the solar charger in the cockpit on the co-pilot's seat, where it sat innocently beside the dark, silent screens of the de-manifested AI.
I kept the knife in my inventory. I'd "find" it later, perhaps among the beach debris. I left the cookware set in a cabinet. I hid the coffee and chocolates separately—small luxuries to "discover" on days when morale needed a boost. I put the sewing kit in a storage bin near Madhavi's usual seat. I left the blanket folded on Anjali's spot.
I paused at the cabin door, surveying my work. It looked natural. Believable. It was a plane stocked with standard emergency supplies that had been overlooked in the chaos of the crash.
Satisfied, I waded back to shore and returned to the sleeping women. They hadn't stirred. Daya had rolled onto her back, her thick thighs slightly parted, her ample breasts rising and falling with slow breaths. Babita's hand had found Komal's hip, her fingers splayed possessively. Anjali had curled into the warm spot I'd left. Madhavi had shifted closer to Anita, their shoulders touching.
I lay back down, letting the warmth of their bodies pull me back into the tangle. Babita's hand found my chest in her sleep; she was possessive even in her sleep. Anjali's leg hooked over mine. Daya's breath was warm against my shoulder.
I closed my eyes and let satisfaction wash over me.
Tomorrow, we would "discover" the supplies. The women would be grateful and relieved and impressed by my resourcefulness. Daya would organize the cookware and brew coffee. Madhavi would find the sewing kit and smile quietly. Babita would claim the chocolates. Anjali would wrap herself in the blanket and look at me with her soft, adoring eyes.
The illusion would hold.
The island would continue to provide both the paradise I had created and the pleasures my women eagerly offered.
—
Morning:
I woke to the sensation of warm lips trailing down my stomach.
I opened my eyes to pale dawn light filtering through palm fronds. Komal crouched between my legs, her enormous breasts swaying as she pressed kisses along my hipbone. Her dark eyes flicked up to meet mine, glittering with mischief.
"Good morning," she murmured against my skin. "I woke up hungry."
Her mouth found my hardening length, and I groaned and fell back. The other women around us stirred: Babita stretched like a cat; Daya rubbed her eyes; and Anjali smiled sleepily at the scene before her.
"Komal, it's not even breakfast time yet," Madhavi said, her voice amused.
"This is breakfast." Komal's tongue swirled around the tip before she took me deeper.
Anita propped herself on one elbow and watched with heavy-lidded appreciation. "Don't stop on our account."
The morning passed in lazy, indulgent pleasure. Komal finished what she started, swallowing with a satisfied hum. Then Babita demanded her turn. She pushed me onto my back and rode me slowly while the others watched and touched themselves. Daya followed, then Anjali, each taking what she needed. By the time the sun was fully above the horizon, all six women were flushed and sated, sprawled across the sand.
"We should check the plane," I said, finally sitting up. "Really search it this time. We might have missed supplies in the panic."
Anita raised an eyebrow. "You think there's more?"
"Worth a look."
They followed me to the wreck, still naked and unbothered by their nudity. The island had stripped away that particular modesty within the first day.
I led them through the cabin, "discovering" each cache with carefully feigned surprise. The first aid kit was in the overhead compartment. The water tablets were in the galley drawer. The fishing gear was under the seat cushion. The solar charger was in the cockpit.
"This is incredible!" Daya exclaimed, clutching the coffee beans I had "found" in a cabinet. "Real coffee! I can make us a proper breakfast!"
Madhavi's eyes lit up when she found the sewing kit. "This is perfect. I can mend clothes and make new things." She looked at me with quiet gratitude. "You were right to check again."
"Lucky," Komal said, but her eyes held a knowing glint. She didn't question it, though. None of them did. They trusted me completely.
The solar charger was the biggest hit. "We can charge the phone. Maybe...maybe we'll get a signal eventually?"
"Maybe," I said, knowing full well that a signal would never come until I allowed it.
The women busied themselves organizing the supplies, their voices bright with relief and excitement. The island no longer felt like a desperate survival situation. It felt like an adventure. A vacation. A home.
I watched them work together: Daya brewed coffee over the fire; Madhavi sorted the medical supplies; Komal untangled the fishing line; and Babita and Anita arranged the cookware. Anjali folded the blanket I'd left for her.
They were happy. They were free. They were mine.
None of them would ever know how much of this paradise I had manufactured.
I smiled and joined them, accepting a cup of coffee from Daya and letting her press a kiss to my cheek.
"Thank you," she whispered. "For taking care of us."
"Always," I said.
And I meant it.
—