The Rain. (Epilogue)

"Well... looks like we're finally alone, pet," she purrs, the voice that's been stalking your nights for the better part of a week.

At least that's what your internal clock says it's been. The sun doesn't really move here. You don't know exactly how this place functions. You've been too busy running, hiding, getting caught and raped, and escaping, to work it out. But you have managed to figure out a couple of things.

The first is that food is a problem. Whatever you consume either does not have any sort of nourishment, or you can't absorb it, leaving you weak and prone to making mistakes. That's the usual way of how they manage to find you. However, much like back when you were back home, when your rapists have their orgasms, you are immediately revitalized, but only so much as to ensure your next rapist's insemination. As such, your working theory is that either the nutrients are released when you have the excess sexual power to process it for a mostly human body, or you are leeching off of them enough to stay alive.

But you do still get tired and need to sleep. You often wake up hoping that this is all a bad dream, but are always sadly disappointed.

The second is that the rain sucks. At first, you welcomed the clouds that weren't made of flyers, but when the ground caved in from the fist-sized, rock hard raindrops, you immediately changed your mind.

You were foraging for some edible berries and roots earlier today when you heard the growing thunder, and you found the ruins of some sort of building, hinting that there used to be a civilization here. But right now, it's elevated, has three walls and a sturdy looking roof, and that's good enough for you. Sitting on the floor, in your makeshift skirt, you hug your knees, just watching the rain pound the ground outside into submission.

And then she showed up.

Completely unfettered by the rain, she emerges through the curtain, cocking her hip and resting her hand on it, smiling her bright white fangs at you. Looking up, it's obvious that she's a catwoman, and your best guess from her size and the dusty brown of her fur, is that she might be a lioness. You briefly consider risking running for it, but the wind shifts and the rain comes down even harder. You shake your head slowly and plead "No..." feebly, as if you have a chance at changing her mind.

Her grin widens and she takes a menacing step towards you. And another. And then, she pounces. Slamming her hands on the wall above your head, she looks down on you, as she soaks you in rainwater. Shuffling in even closer, she slowly descends, her claws scratching out concrete, forcing your legs down and sitting on your lap. Taking control of your head, she runs her raspy tongue up your neck and cheek, making you shiver even more. "Now why would you say that, pet?" she whispers, staring intensely through you with gold eyes, "I just want us to have a good time together." Her other hand reaches down, and fishes your cock out from under your skirt. As it always has done since you've arrived, it betrays you by growing hard at their touch, the soft smooth pads on her fingertips adding to the odd pleasure. "See? Even he wants to play. So, let's play."

She slides you in with a triumphant growl. Lifting and lowering her hips, she tells you that she's planning on playing with you until the rain stops. You swallow in resignation as you remember the thing you really hate about the rain here.

It lasts for hours.