A short variation on a theme posted by @vikingzombieboyfriend a few days ago, which you can find here.
“Think he’s dead?”
“Well he sure don’t look like he’s in very good shape.”
“Is he moving?”
The two men backed up as the prone, unconscious young man they’d stumbled upon as they’d been riding down the trail groaned and came around. They stepped back further, when he flung about, screaming–”Get off me! Fucking get away from me!”
They waited a moment for him to get his bearings and calm down, the young man sitting up, huffing, looking around at the two men who’d found him suspiciously–then down at himself, and found himself naked. “You alright? We just rode up on you a few minutes ago, passed out in the middle of the trail, buck naked.”
“I…Oh god, I…” the young man said, looking down at his hands, “Was it…Where am I?”
“About two days away from any road. Were you hiking with anyone else?” one man asked.
“He probably just ate some damn shrooms and went out of his mind, man.”
“God, I hope so..” the young man said, still looking at his hands.
“You don’t remember what happened?”
The young man shook his head side to side in a way neither cowboy found very convincing. He recalled something, but didn’t want to say.
“Look, we’re on our way out, back to our truck. If you need some help getting back to the road, you can tag along.”
The young man agreed, and after borrowing some spare clothes, they helped up up onto the horse behind one of them, and they kept riding on. Their planned campsite was a few miles further down the trail, and the he was only too happy to get there–the young man had spent the whole hour long ride sniffing at him, and…grinding up against him in a rather strange way. He wasn’t even sure the man had noticed he was doing it. Getting this close to him, he also smelled strongly of loam and rot, and it only grew more intense as they went.
As soon as they got to camp, the young man excused himself off into the woods, allegedly to take care of some business, while one cowboy told the other he had a feeling their new companion was probably a faggot. The rest of the evening, the young man seemed distracted and distant, though his eyes rarely seemed to leave the man he’d ridden with. They all went to bed early, the two cowboys sleeping together, because the one didn’t want to left alone with the strange faggot.
The other woke in the night, to the other man screaming. There, at the mouth of a tent, a bear had him by the legs, and with one yank, hauled his friend from the tent, clawing at the nylon in a desperate attempt to stop it. He crawled out after him, hoping to distract the bear–but it wasn’t a bear at all–some massive creature, and all he could remember was that both under the light of the moon, and in the dying light of the embers, the creature was simply…gray, like it had leeched the color from the world. It had his friend pinned to the ground, impaled on it’s huge cock. The other tent was ripped to pieces, the horses had escaped their knots and fled as well, and he fled too–but even as he ran, he saw the eyes in the forest, the grey eyes, watching him, chasing him, and the world only turned more grey as he ran, and the night never did end.