Carried away, who knows where...

The air that filled her lungs was strange. It smelled strange. It tasted strange… as if she were breathing in a mist of melted butter: fatty, salty, nauseating. It was one of the weirdest sensations she had ever felt. But it was proof she still lived.

Lara opened her eyes, slowly. Her head hurt, but her jaw and throat hurt even more. She opened her mouth as wide as she could bear, then closed it again, slowly. It was no wonder it hurt thus: how many gigantic cocks had been shoved into her face? Ten? Twelve? Twenty? She didn’t know, but she remembered with perfect clarity the savage pounding her throat had endured before darkness took her. The strange taste in her mouth was just as easy to explain: those brutes had literally drowned her in their horribly thick semen. She repressed a gag.

Apparently, the man-beasts were not quite done using her orifices to quench their urges, as they had elected to take her **** body along as luggage. The weapons they carried and the rudimentary clothes they used to shelter their oversized appendages had already given Lara hints of their craftsmanship, but they had another trick up their sleeves: they knew how craft simple tools to carry prey back to their… camp, or cave, or village, whatever their usual abode was named. They had tied her to a pole that two of the lumbering creatures carried on their left shoulder. A short rope – or rather, a vine snatched from a low hanging bough – was tied around her left ankle, went over the pole and down the other side, where it was fastened to her right ankle. In the same way, her hands were bound at the wrist. It wasn’t a particularly comfortable position, but it would have been bearable if not for the fact that, for reasons her tired mind couldn’t begin to fathom, her tits had been given the same treatment: a vine was tied around them both, much more tightly than Lara would have ever thought possible, but that particular rope was much shorter than the ones binding her hands and feet, and so her poor beaten breasts suffered the unpleasant duty of supporting most of her weight. Lara winced at the sight of her plump mammaries now stretched to clearly unhealthy dimensions. Though they hurt, the pain felt dull, as if her body had almost become accustomed to it; it was likely her captors had been carrying her in that fashion for quite a while now… And if so, that meant she was almost assuredly much too far from her landing point to find the way back unassisted. She was tied-up, half-naked, her stomach overflowing with semen, and hopelessly lost in the jungle of Biggo Cocko.

She did find one reason to rejoice though: the man-beasts hadn’t removed her strong boots, without which an escape would have been doubly difficult on such a treacherous terrain as a jungle, nor had they removed her shorts. That meant the only hole they had abused – so far, at least – was her mouth. Lara breathed a sigh of relief ; the thought of something that big plowing the lower entrances to her body filled her with dread.