Page 116 of Lost to the Woods

I feel its cock pressing against me. Huge.Inhuman. Thick and ridged, dripping with something slick and warm. The size difference is staggering, but the creature doesn’t seem to care. It rubs it against my breasts, my stomach, my pussy slit and the soaked mess there, grinding like it can’t decide if it wants to fuck me or eat me.

Probably both.

“No, no, no—” I sob when it lines the flared head of its cock against my tiny entrance. “You’ll—you’ll kill me—”

It doesn’t stop.

Itramsinside, my body forced to stretch beyond what it can take. I scream, but it’s useless.

The pain is unbearable, like I’m being split in two. Its cock is too big, too much, and I can feel every inch of it pushing its way inside me, tearing me apart.

My nails claw at its arms, but it’s like scratching stone. Its skin is rough, like bark, and it doesn’t give. I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but feel the agony, the violation… and somewhere at the bottom, the sick pleasure.

The creature growls, biting my shoulder as its hips snap forward, thrusting farther into me, relentless and merciless. The sounds are obscene, wet and squelching, mingling with his guttural growls and my own choked sobs and chattering teeth. Blood runs down my thighs, mixing with whatever’s dripping from it.

I’m going to die. I know it.

The pain is all-consuming, a white-hot fire that spreads through my body, leaving no part of me untouched. It’s in my chest, my stomach, my legs, my mind. It’s everywhere, and there’s no escape. The forest seems to close in around us, the trees leaning closer, the shadows deepening, as if the very earth is complicit in this horror.

Its teeth sink deeper, and I feel it tear with a wet rip. A chunk of my flesh comes free, and I scream again, but the pain is fading. Everything is fading.

My arms go limp, and suddenly I’m dangling again, my hair brushing the ground. The axe is there. Just out of reach.

I twist, stretching my fingers.

Almost.

The creature fucks me harder, using me like a cocksleeve, each thrust a fresh wave of torment, more brutal than the last. Its shaft pulses inside me, buried deep, and I swear I feel it in my throat, my guts rearranged around the brutal thickness of him. My pelvis is surely broken by now, and I can’t feel my legs. Everything is broken.

Its claws digging into my hips, raking down, leaving deep slashes as they shred the skin.

I whimper, but I don’t stop reaching. My fingertips graze the handle. And I finally manage to grab it.

With the last of my strength and will to live, I pull myself straight and swing.

The axe buries itself in its skull with a sickening thud.

The creature stumbles, snarling—wet and hollow, like a dying animal—but it’s already leaning back in. It wants to finish this. It wants to peel me open.

I don’t let it.

A primal scream rips from my dry throat as I swing again.

This time, the blade drags down its body, splitting it apart like a gutted deer. Blood sprays, hot and thick, coating my skin, my face, my lips…

I can taste it, metallic, bitter, and thick. Something inside me stirs, something sinister.

Hunger.

Raw, desperate, consuming.

And then, I wrench the axe free and bring it down one last time, slashing through the creature’s neck.

It makes this awful, choking sound before its skull hits the forest floor with a hollow thud and rolls once.

Still twitching. Still trying to breathe. But its eyes dim down fast until they are just bottomless black pits.

Its headless body collapses.

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