Try to run.

“This beast is fully capable of killing me. Those teeth certainly aren’t for plants. So, what if it can talk, it’s clearly a predator and I need to leave. Now.” Thoughts tinged in ever-increasing panic, I take one last look at the beast, then bolt into the trees.

With a colossal growl, I hear the beast give chase, the thud of its footfalls on the forest floor clearly evident behind me. I zig then zag through the trees, trying to lose the beast in a denser patch of foliage. It doesn’t work, the footfalls are closer now, louder, my panting breaths and those of the beast behind me breaking the silence of an otherwise still forest.

A minute later and it’s clear that I won’t be outrunning this beast, it’s right on my heels and only gaining by the second. My heart pounds in terror as I prepare to make my last stand. My resolve hardens as I plant my feet to dump my momentum, turn, and swing my club as hard as possible in a two-handed grip. I feel the jolt up my arm as the wood impacts the beast's face, hear the resounding crack as my makeshift club shatters into splinters upon impact. There is no time to celebrate as the beast’s momentum carries it forward, its bulk barrelling into me.

My world dissolves into a spinning, whirling hell as I am sent flying ass over teakettle into the underbrush by the impact. I land with an “oof” as the air flees me lungs, roll a couple more times, then come to a stop. Groggily, I rise to my feet, confusion muddling my thoughts. I should be in agony right now, but there is no pain at all. All I can feel is a slight weakness and something else, another feeling that I can’t quite figure out. I look around, my eyes fixing on the beast as it rises from the ground and faces me anew. My body shakes. It shakes in fear, and it shakes with something else, need.

Pushing away the confusing swirl of emotions, I frantically look around for a replacement weapon. At my feet sits a slightly smaller branch that my original, but it'll have to do. I scoop it up and prepare myself for another charge.

The beast walks unsteadily towards me, a large wound on the side of its head where my club had struck clearly visible, the eye on that side damaged beyond repair. Beyond repair until it wasn’t, that is. A small groan of despair escapes my lips as I watch the torn flesh of its wound knit itself together. The eye reforms, focusing on me, full of reproach. Then I hear the voice again.

“That not nice.”

In a rush, the beast is upon me. I raise my branch in a pathetic defence, but it is too little too late. A mighty swipe of a front leg sends my weapon spinning off into the trees. I watch, helpless, as the follow up swing comes hurtling towards my head. In what time I have left, I lament my fate, transported to another world, only to die in my first encounter.

I am gobsmacked when the strike is stopped dead, a translucent bubble flashing in place around me for the briefest of moments. Strength leaves my body in a torrent, fuel for this barrier that has saved my life. My skull avoids being squashed like an overripe tomato, but the **** that came with the strike still hits me like a train. For the second time in as many minutes, I am sent flying head over heels. With a loud “OMPH”, I come to a stop, the transparent barrier that had yet again saved my life brightens, then shatters. The last of my strength flows out of me, leaving my body limp and unable to move. My sluggish thoughts attempt to rally as I try to work out whatever the hell is going on, but a wave of tiredness is making it difficult. I am in a seated position, my back propped against something hard and my legs akimbo on the forest floor. My arms hang useless and limp by my sides.

My eyes focus, and I watch as the beast slowly walks towards me. Then it hits me, a wave of pure animalistic need radiating out from the beast. I should be terrified of this creature, but all I can feel is an overwhelming urge to submit to this creature before me. I want him to claim me, to own me, to breed me. I look deep into my conqueror’s eyes. I can see amusement there, but also a smouldering lust that mirrors my own.

“Mine now.”

The words make me gasp as a wave of submissive delight flows through me, making me shiver. I can feel the dampness between my legs, only growing wetter as my anticipation builds, all my thoughts of escape long gone. “Pleeaaase,” I moan, the weakness of my body the only thing that’s stopping me tearing off my clothes so I could present my needy, dripping pussy to him, “fuck meeeee”.

“With pleasure.”