Chapter Text
It started innocently enough. Just the thought of oh, where does this little side-path go that had doomed so many other hikers. He could have sworn that he’d only gone a little ways off the hiking trail, but that little diversion led to him wandering for hours trying to find it again and only getting more and more lost.
He hadn’t been all that worried at first. He had a compass and map – which he really should have started using before he had let himself get this badly lost – and even though he wasn’t familiar with the area he still spent a lot of time outdoors in general, and was fairly well-prepared. Aside from the compass and map, his backpack held a small tent, a sleeping bag, some matches, a small pot, enough food and water to last a day or two and a book on local edible plants just in case those ran out. He traveled toward what he was fairly confident was civilization until night began to fall, and set up camp in high spirits.
His optimism didn’t last when he awoke the next morning unable to find his map or compass. He searched frantically through every pocket of his pack and under half the stones in his makeshift campsite, but it was well and truly gone. He must have dropped them somewhere, somehow. He still had his other supplies though, and he knew at least the rough direction he needed to go. It was far from hopeless. He set out once more, chomping on one of his several granola bars as he walked in precisely the wrong direction.
It was two nights later that he saw it, as he built a small fire. A pair of eyes reflected the firelight, something lurking just past where he could properly see. He froze when he met them, staring at whatever it was until it vanished, disappearing into the night. Something about them left his nerves frazzled, even though he knew it probably wasn’t anything to worry about. Maybe just a fox, or deer.
He woke the next morning with a sore neck, which he attributed to sleeping in an awkward position.
He’d been careful with his food and his foraging, and the food he’d brought didn’t start running low until the day after that. He still pushed onward, refusing to give up. He bed down that night listening to the soft footsteps of whatever wild animal had wandered into his camp, trying not to think about how he didn’t even whether or not he was just walking in circles.
He was so worried about when he would find his way out of the wilderness that he didn’t even notice the clearing he woke up in the next morning wasn’t the same one he had gone to sleep in the night before.
This one had leaves you could brew into tea. This one had a flower you could eat. This one was edible except the flower. This mushroom was delicious, but also looked near-identical to a very similar mushroom that would cause total organ failure so you should probably avoid it to be safe. The book on local forageables had been a lifesaver, which is why he was horrified to wake up without it. He didn’t even search for it much. He’d been so worried about losing it that he’d slept with it clutched to his chest, and if it was gone then that meant… well, it meant that something had taken it from him. He’d been totally asleep, completely helpless, and something had taken it from him. He didn’t know what that meant. He didn’t want to think about it. He still moved forward, just because he couldn’t think of anything else to do. He at least remembered enough from the book to keep himself fed, though not as well as he had been.
He tried to ignore the pain in his neck and the light-headedness he’d woken up with. He hoped he wasn’t falling ill.
A mountain lion came into his little camp that night. He froze when he saw it, before he remembered what you were supposed to do in situations like this and leapt up, shouting and waving his hands and hoping it wasn’t too hungry or too used to people. Its head perked up and it turned tail, dashing into the dark woods. He went to bed more scared than hungry, clutching the hunting knife he’d brought with him and listening to footsteps patrolling around his tent all night long. He assumed they were from the mountain lion, that he hadn’t really scared it off. He was right about the second part of that, as he’d been too panicked to realize that it had been looking at something just behind him when it was spooked off.
He thought he was still dreaming when he woke up to the smell of cooking meat. When he realized what was actually happening he stumbled out of the tent half-dressed, following the scent down to what he desperately hoped was someone who could help him. Instead, he found a mountain lion. It was the same mountain lion from last night, in fact; he could see a scar on its pelt that he dimly recalled from his encounter with it. He didn’t really register this though, more concerned with how it had been killed, skinned, and was currently roasting on a spit.
He stared at it. He knew. He knew something was doing this to him. His things disappearing, how he always ended up in the same damn clearing over and over, walking in circles. He hadn’t wanted to think about it, but here was indisputable proof. Something, someone had been following him, keeping him lost. He didn’t know who it was, or why they were doing this. Was it even just one person? Was there some crazy bunch of cannibals hunting him for sport, or just one backwoods whackjob who wanted to make him miserable. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what he could do. But he was lightheaded, and his neck hurt, and most of all he was hungry.
It tasted like pork. He hated pork. There wasn’t any seasoning. It was weirdly dry, like whoever butchered it had drained all the fluids out. But it was food, and he was far too happy for a full meal to care. He gorged himself before he kept going.
He didn’t know what he was moving towards. He knew it wasn’t civilization. Whoever was following him clearly didn’t want him to escape. Still, he was walking towards something. He didn’t think that things would get better, but some small part of him still hoped.
He found a pair of doors set into the ground. It looked like the entrance to an old cellar, from some house that must have collapsed or burned down long ago.
He knew that whoever had been stalking him was probably trying to herd him here. He was beyond caring. At that point he was at their mercy, it didn’t matter what he did.
Despite the rust on the doors, the hinges themselves were well-oiled, and opened without even a squeak of protest. The cellar was dark, but he could see a dim light in the back, several candles arrayed on a little wooden frame alongside a number of small objects.
It was a shrine, he realized with dull horror. A little collection of everything of his that had gone missing. His compass, his map, his book on foraging. The picture of him on his driver’s license was the centerpiece. He hadn’t even realized that his wallet had been taken until that moment. It hadn’t really seemed that important.
He stood staring at it blankly, starting to realize just what he had walked into. He heard the cellar door slam shut behind him, and turned just in time to see something crouching on the ceiling like a pale, gangly spider before a sudden draft blew out the candles.
He froze. He didn’t know what was about to happen, but he knew that it was out of his hands at this point. The only sound he could hear was his own breathing. He didn’t even know that the thing he was trapped with was approaching until he felt cold arms pull him into an embrace.
“Ahhh,” a soft voice crooned. “At last at last at last, you’re here! Lovely lovely lovely food, finally found your home. All mine, so pretty and tasty and mine, mine to hold and care for and feed and feed from forever and ever.”
It babbled affectionately, though the words barely registered with him. He was hungry and sore and totally exhausted both physically and emotionally from days of wandering the wilderness believing that he might die there. He knew that he wasn’t safe here with whatever this thing was. But its tone was soothing, and its long, clawed fingers stroked his hair so gently. He closed his eyes and relaxed in its arms, finally letting himself rest.
He opened his eyes to darkness, something cold and hard pressed against him. He thought at first that he had just woken up before dawn on the cold ground, again, before the memories of what happened the day prior came rushing back to him and he realized that he was still wrapped up in those arms like steel cable, with that cold body pressed up against him as they lay together under a scratchy blanket. He couldn’t feel anything between him and it. It must have taken his clothes.
He tried to stay still, not let it know he was awake, but it knew as soon as he’d regained consciousness. It had been watching him very closely. “Ah, awake! So beautiful asleep, so beautiful awake, so beautiful and lovely and mine, always and forever,” it cooed into his ear as its hands roamed over his body, caressing and groping at him. He whimpered at the touch of its claws. “Oh no, lovely food, do not fear. Nothing will ever harm you, the food is safe here, safe and soft and warm and mine. I will hold you and keep you safe and happy and fed and here.”
It picked him up with no apparent difficulty, wrapping him in the blanket as it carried him around the cellar cradled in its arms. He couldn’t see a thing, but it didn’t seem to have any difficulty navigating the pitch-black. He heard it move things around, humming a tuneless song to itself as it worked. Eventually, it stopped, and spoke, “Here you are, food for the food!” It laughed at its own little joke, a sound like a dying hyena. He felt himself be unraveled from the blanket, and seated him on what felt like a chair. Then he heard a harsh scraping sound as a match flared to life and two candles were lit on the table in front of him.
He at last had a clear view of his captor. He had already known just from it touching him that it wasn’t a normal person. Its fingers were long and clawed, skin cold to the touch. What he saw staring back at him in the candlelight was even more obviously inhuman. It was a tall, lanky thing, a full head taller than him even slouching down as it was, with disproportionately long arms and fingers; while its skin was white as a sheet, and seemed to be totally hairless. It also seemed to be totally naked, though he avoided looking between its legs to confirm that. Its face was what he stared at instead, though he wasn’t sure that it was much less intimidating than what he’d see if he looked down. It was hairless as the rest of its body, with oddly pointed ears and milk-white eyes. He would have wondered if it were blind if he couldn’t feel its gaze boring into him. The worst part was its mouth, which was pulled into an excited grin that just happened to show off its many enormous fangs, all as pearly white as the rest of its body.
He held its gaze in horror, wondering if he had actually died in the woods and this was some bizarre hallucination as his brain was starved of oxygen. It just kept smiling at him, looking up and down his body with a gaze halfway between hunger and adoration. After a few moments of this, it gestured to the table in front of him, where he now noticed there was a small bowl of greens and what looked like cooked fish. He recognized the plants from his foraging book. It seemed it was still in use. He glanced at it, before looking back to the monster in front of him. He was frozen in place, overwhelmed by the shock of realizing just what was keeping him prisoner in this place.
Eventually its smile faltered, sensing that something was wrong. It crouched down next him, caressing his face. “Oh lovely Food, do not worry, do not worry at all. The Food is loved, and cared for. It will be fed.” And with that it gently lifted him up and sat down on the chair itself, keeping him on its lap with one hand as it tore off little bits of food and gently fed him with the other. He hated the feeling of its fingers inside of his mouth, but he knew there wasn’t any point fighting back. Even if he didn’t feel so weak at the moment, this thing’s arms felt like steel cable. He doubted he’d be able to do anything to stop it even in peak condition. So he sat there, and dutifully ate all the food given to him as the monster told him how good he was being and reminded him to lick its fingers clean to get all of it.
As humiliating as it was to be hand-fed like this, it did help to distract him from how he was pressed against its lap. He had avoided looking between its legs earlier, not wanting to think about how large it might be, but he didn’t need to look anymore. He could feel it pressing against him. He unthinkingly squirmed in discomfort, but stopped when he felt, to his horror, that the length had started to harden against him.
His captor stopped feeding him and laughed again, a low, calm chuckle unlike its earlier cackling. “Oh, of course of course of course. Food is hungry for other things.” One of its clawed hands moved between his legs, gently stroking the inside of his thigh. “So eager, and so good to wait to be fed first. Food should not worry. Food is mine, and is loved and safe and lovely, and will be given anything it wants, and Food will feel so good. We will feed and hold and fill it often and forever.”
It reached somewhere behind them to grab a jar of what looked like some kind of grease, unscrewed it, and placed it on the table. “Food will need to be prepared for stuffing!” It grinned again at its own joke, and gave its captive a look like it expected him to laugh.
“Please…” he finally managed to force out the words, barely a hoarse whisper. “Don’t… don’t do this…”
The monster kissed the top of his head. “Food should not worry, it will be so good and soft and tight and full and mine and loved. It will do so well. It will be shown how to do it.” It took his wrist in a gentle hand, and dipped his fingers in the grease before guiding it down to his ass. Tears started to form at the corners of his eyes, but he couldn’t do anything to stop it. He started to finger himself, trying his best to prepare himself for what was about to be done to him. It might have been easier if it hadn’t been making him prepare himself, if it had simply forced itself on him rather than making him work for it. The idea of that massive cock inside of him without any preparation – or the idea of those claws inside of him at all – was even worse though, so he did all he could to get himself ready as he endured his captor’s loving touches and gentle encouragement.
At last he was sufficiently ready – or at least the monster felt that he was – and he was moved from its lap to its leg, where it once again guided his grease-covered hand, this time to its cock. It was fully erect now, his captor having very much enjoyed watching him prepare himself, and as huge as it had felt. He wanted to look away as he stroked it, maybe he could have ignored what was doing, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. He tried to get it as covered in the grease as he could, to make the next part as painless as possible.
It wasn’t long before he felt its hands lift him up again, turning him around to face his captor’s smiling face. “Oh lovely Food, lovely face, will be so beautiful when it is full. It will do so well, will be so tight and good and mine.“ It licked away a tear running down his cheek and gently, oh so gently, lowered him onto its cock. He gasped when it first pushed into him and clung desperately to his captor’s body for support. It held him there, one hand gently rubbing his back as it allowed him to adjust before slowly letting him sink down its shaft.
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to think about what it was doing to him even as it cooed into his ear how good he was being, how tight and warm he was. He sobbed when he felt its hips finally press against him, and knew its entire length was inside of him. He heard the monster’s soft voice murmuring to him. “So lovely,” it whispered, and its long, cold tongue slipped out again to lick away his tears. “Oh, lovely Food, so tight, so full. Need to wait, relax. Need to make Food feel good.” It held him there, allowing him to get used to the feeling. He didn’t open his eyes, but he knew it was looking at him with that same expression it had before. That gentle, adoring smile, like he was its lover instead of its victim.
Eventually he stopped crying. There was no use. He couldn’t stop what was happening to him, no matter what he did. The monster seemed to take this as a sign that he had adjusted to being impaled on its cock, and he felt a kiss pressed to his forehead. “Food is comfortable? Food feels good?”
Slowly, reluctantly, he opened his eyes to see the face of his tormentor, smiling down at him. “Please… just do it.” He whispered, just wanting to get it over with.
The monster grinned, a hand coming up to caress his face. “Eager eager eager. Do not worry. Food will be filled so well, will feel so good and be so good, be so lovely and happy and mine.” It leaned forward to kiss his forehead, and started to move inside of him. It was agonizingly slow at first, only pulling out a few inches at a time before lowering him down again. Steadily it began to pull out more, though always slowly, always gently.
He almost felt that it would have been more bearable if it had been more brutal; if it had held him down and fucked him without caring for his comfort rather than being so gentle and affectionate, so concerned with his pleasure. It might have been easier if it hadn’t been forcing him to enjoy it.
And that was maybe the worst part – he did enjoy it. It was humiliating, degrading, painful, but it felt good to be held like this, to be fucked like this. Before long its steady, even thrusts found that bundle of nerves, and from then on the monster made sure to press against it every time. His sounds of pleasure seemed to excite it more than anything else, and soon its thrusts grew erratic and shallow. Finally it gripped him hard and pulled him down one last time, and he felt its cock twitch inside him. He leaned against the monster, praying that it was over.
“Lovely Food,” it crooned, “Felt so good. Will be made to feel so good, will know it is loved and mine and beautiful.” It pulled him off its cock and laid him face-up on the table, and he looked down to see it crouched with its face between his legs.
Oh. Of course. He was still hard. He should have known better than to hope it was done with him.
Its tongue flicked out, and he shivered when he felt it touch him. He couldn’t even bring himself to move, just lay there passively as it wrapped its inhumanly long and dextrous tongue around his shaft. It was careful with its claws and fangs, always sure to keep them away from any sensitive areas as it eagerly pleasured him, doing its best to make him feel good. And it did. Despite himself, despite how much he wished he at least had the dignity of not coming to being raped by this… thing, its thorough fucking earlier combined with its current performance meant that it wasn’t long before the monster was affectionately licking him clean of his own load.
He collapsed onto the table and lay there ashamed, exhausted, and utterly spent. The monster finished licking his body clean, and leant over him. “Food is so good,” it cooed, “So perfect. So delicious and warm and mine.” He opened his eyes just in time to watch it lean down to sink its fangs into his neck.
The last things that passed through his mind before he slipped out of consciousness were the feeling of being picked up and cradled lovingly in arms as cold and strong as iron chains, and the thought: Oh. So that’s why my neck was hurting so much.