Backpacking is one of the few escapes that Marcus felt he could still rely on, in a world that felt like he was constantly connected to everything, whether he wanted to be or not. More than once, he had fantasized about leaving it all, finding some cabin in the wilderness, abandoning wifi and phones and data and electricity and everything else altogether. Maybe he’d be able to shake this anxiety and depression, maybe he’d feel connected to something that wasn’t a constant maelstrom of terror and death and impending doom. So he would take a couple weeks off in the summer, and do his best to disappear, trails or no trails, just…escaping. Just him, and nature, alone–except on this trip, he was beginning to suspect that he wasn’t particularly alone.
The trip had started off normal enough, on familiar territory. He decided to go off in a new direction, towards a rather secluded valley in the midst of the forest, and as he descended into it, he began to get the sensation that he was being watched. This in and of itself was not too uncommon–after all, just because there were no people, did not mean that he was in fact alone–he saw all sorts of wildlife during his trips, but largely had never had a problem with them, so long as he minded his food habits properly. However, this sense was something else entirely, and when he camped for the day, the sensation didn’t disappear like it usually did, but he saw no sign of anything, so he figured he was as safe as he could be.
It was when he went down to the river to refill his water, that he saw him, there in the brush.
Handsome did not really begin to describe him. Marcus was stricken with something more than lust, it was…compulsive. Animalistic. He dropped his pack without another thought, and walked towards the strange, eyeing him over his shoulder, and the man walked away, and Marcus followed. After a quarter mile, the man led Marcus to a cave, and pulled him inside, and in the dark…Marcus felt that something was wrong. Feeling the man, his cock, his body–it didn’t seem to match what he’d seen outside of the cave. There were too many limbs, and they were too thin, the skin wasn’t hairy, but smooth, and seemed to stick to him, if he didn’t pull away fast enough. His rational mind tried to rebel, but the desire overwhelmed him anyway, pulled him into the stink of him, the heady scent of musk, with a strange pang of carrion and rot all around it. The man, the thing, forced Marcus onto the floor of the cave and fucked him deep–deeper than a cock should have been able to go, seeded him hard, hard enough he could feel his gut expand, and them wrapped Marcus in his arms, and held him there, sticky and sweaty in the dark, deep, inhuman rattling breaths in his ear, long tongue wrapping around his neck, sharp teeth at an ear.
He tried to squirm away, but the thing would nip him–not hard enough to hurt him, but enough to draw blood. He held still instead, unsure of what to do, watching the dim light from the entrance to the cave dim as night came, unsure if the squirming in his guts was hunger, thirst…or perhaps something else entirely.
Bracken's Corner 