Try to communicate

"I'm not going to hurt you," you say firmly but quietly.

He glares at you. A growling grunt rumbles in his throat, but he is staring at your mouth as his own large, rough hand moves up to his own. He grunts again, but moves his mouth slightly, apparently trying to mimic you; though of course it comes out as just nonsense grunts.

You are slightly encouraged by this. "That's right, I don't want to hurt you." You shift your position slightly to get a little more comfortable, and he reacts immediately, stepping toward you, throwing his shoulders back and balling his fists, growling loudly.

"OK, OK," you say, holding your hands up submissively. "It's OK, I'm not going anywhere, see? Just trying to get a little more comfortable, OK?" He seems appeased. "OK."

He is staring at your mouth again, and shapes his into an "O" shape, then tries to make the corresponding sound.

"OK..." you say, "that means, well, it means I'm agreeing with you. You don't want me to go anywhere and I'm not going to. OK?"

He squats down and looks at you closely. He is no longer looking at your mouth, but at your shorts--the only article of clothing, except your underwear, that you have left after being shipwrecked. He jerks a hand aggressively toward them and makes an effort to say, "OK."

"These are clothes...shorts, more specifically. I guess you don't have much need for clothes here though." You look at his naked body. Now that you are able to see him up close and aren't immediately afraid for your life, you realize how big his penis is, and how much bigger it is than your own. It's hanging there soft and heavy between his legs as he squats there glaring at you. It looks as thick as his wrist and as long as his forearm. He is also circumcised, which makes it an almost certainty that he was not born on this island.

You realize that you have been staring at his penis only when he grunts "OK" again and gestures at your shorts. Your mind races until you finally realize he can only mean one thing. He wants you to give him your shorts.

"OK," you say, holding up your hands submissively. "You want these, you can have them, OK?" You start to stand up to take them off and he stands up and growls aggressively, glaring down at you.

"OK, OK..." you get back down on the ground and slip off your shorts. He watches you carefully. You reach them out toward him, and after a few seconds of glaring at you, he snatches them away. He looks at them, turning them over in his hands. He sits down and tries to slip them on over his feet but can't quite figure it out. In frustration, he grabs them and pulls them up while simultaneously thrashing his legs. As a result, the shorts rip apart. He would not have been able to get them on anyway, as they would have been too small for his massive, powerful frame.

He glares at you angrily and sees your underwear. "OK!" he grunts, gesturing at them.

Feeling your whole body flush with humiliation at your situation but seeing no way around it, you say, "OK," and slip your underwear off.

He looks at your flaccid penis, limp and small between your legs, and lets out what is unmistakably amused laughter. He lurches forward and grabs it roughly. You wince and try to back away but this is a mistake, as he growls and grabs your balls, squeezing them. Your legs shaking as you try to fight off the pain, you try to remain in place until finally he lets go of your genitals as though dismissively tossing them aside, and turns his attention to your underwear.

"OK," he growls at you as he picks them up and thrusts them toward you, then toward himself. His meaning is plain: put these on me.

Your balls still aching, you crawl forward and take the underwear from him and slip them over his feet, then start pulling them up. They are made of much stretchier material than your shorts and though they are a little tight on him, they go all the way on. His penis makes them bulge massively in the front, and as he stands up, they are incredibly tight on his muscular buttocks as well.

You sit there on the ground, naked, looking up at this savage man so pleased to be in the underwear he just took from you and made you put on him.

Something begins to stir deep within you; instincts and desires that you have long known lay dormant in you but that you have also long tried to deny. On the one hand, the thought of your situation is repugnant. You have been dominated and humiliated and the reasonable thing to do is to keep looking for a chance to escape or overcome your captor. But there's another part of you that has a totally different reaction as you sit there on the jungle floor staring up at this man; staring up at the massive bulge in his new underwear. This part of you is excited, as it is experiencing something that it has secretly and desperately longed for but always been too afraid to pursue.

He will not understand the words you say, but the next words you choose to utter will define your perspective and approach from this point forward.

You can either follow the insistent pressure of your rational mind and try to continue with a casual conversation in the effort to lower the man's guard enough to attempt escape, or you can call him the name the other part of you yearns to call him.