Page 27

But he ignores me, his focus unyielding. His claws dig into my thighs, spreading me wider as he picks up his pace, each thrust more demanding than the last. The wet, obscene sounds of our connection grow louder, mingling with the distant voices. And I can’t help my cries of passion.

The footsteps quicken, the voices growing clearer, more urgent. They most likely think I’m being skinned alive with all these noises.

Little do they know.

He doesn’t falter. The sounds only spur him on. His claws grip me tighter, his hips slamming into me with a force that has me crying out, though whether it’s from pain or pleasure, I can’t tell anymore.

Then, they arrive.

The hikers burst into view, their faces flushed from exertion, eyes wide with disbelief as they take in the scene before them.

The beast, massive and feral, his white fur gleaming in the dappled sunlight, crouched over me like a predator claiming its prey.

My pregnant form writhing beneath him, my swollen breasts and rounded belly on full display, his monstrous cock buried deep inside, stretching my tiny human pussy.

Their expressions are a mix of alarm, revulsion, and something else—something darker. Their eyes flicker over my body, over the way he holds me, the way my body responds to him despite my cries. I see it in their faces, the perverse fascination they can’t hide.

The humiliation, the raw exposure, the intensity of his thrusts—it all collides in a blinding rush of sensation.

My body betrays me, convulsing around him as the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever felt tears through me.

I scream, my head falling back against the rock, my body arching into him as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over me.

He growls, a deep, guttural sound that shakes the air, and his movements grow frantic.

His claws dig deeper, holding me close as he thrusts one final time, burying himself completely.

His head tilts back, a bellow ripping from his throat as his release floods me, hot and thick, filling me to the point of overflowing.

The hikers don’t move. They stand frozen, their eyes glued to the scene, their expressions unreadable .

Yeti’s roar fades, and he lowers his head, nuzzling against my neck, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. I can feel his seed dripping from me, pooling beneath us as his throbbing subsides. My body is limp, trembling, utterly spent.

The hikers exchange glances, their faces pale, the horror in their eyes as raw as the scene they’ve stumbled upon.

One of them steps back, his mouth opening as if to scream or speak, but no sound comes out.

Another grabs his arm, tugging him away, and the third stumbles, dragging the others with him as they retreat in stunned, trembling silence.

But the beast doesn’t let them go.

He moves faster than I’ve ever seen, his massive body a blur of white fur and raw power.

His claws catch the closest one first, tearing through the fabric of the hiker’s jacket as if it were paper, slicing into the flesh beneath.

A spray of blood arcs through the air, painting the trees and the ground in vivid red.

The thick metallic scent hits my nostrils, mingling with the earthy aroma of the forest and the faint sweetness of wildflowers.

The man screams, a sound so raw it sends a shiver down my spine, but it doesn’t last long. Yeti’s hand clamps down on his throat, cutting his air off and ripping his head clean off with a sickening crunch.

The other two try to run, their feet slipping and stumbling over the uneven forest floor. One of them glances back, his face twisted with terror, just in time to see Yeti pulling his limbs apart as if tearing wings off a fly.

Then, their eyes connect and he moves, methodical, almost playful, as he hunts them down.

The sound of flesh tearing, of bones snapping, fills my ears, drowning out the panicked shouts of the hikers.

I can’t look away. I’m frozen, my body still trembling from the aftermath of the shocking orgasm, my limbs weak and useless. I should feel horrified, sickened by the carnage unfolding before me. But I don’t.

Instead, I feel… calm .

Our secret is safe. That’s all I care about. I feel nothing for the lives lost here.

The final hiker falls, his scream cut short as Yeti’s claws rip through his body. Blood sprays across the stream, staining the water a deep crimson. And then it’s quiet. The forest seems to hold its breath, the only sound the soft trickle of the stream and Yeti’s heavy breathing.

I glance back at the carnage—the mangled bodies scattered like broken toys—then at him, his massive form both terrifying and mesmerizing. He turns to me, chest heaving, fur matted with blood, and there’s something in his eyes I can’t quite place.

Even now, I never know what’s on his mind, but I can’t hold his gaze for long. The intensity of it is too much. What does he see when he looks at me?

My eyes drop to the blood-stained stream, and something inside me wavers, as if it’s calling to me.

My legs feel unsteady, but I force them to move, stumbling forward until I’m kneeling at the edge.

The color is hypnotic, thick like paint, and my intrusive thoughts win as I dip my fingers, watching my reflection distort in the ripples .

When the water stills, I see her.

The woman staring back at me isn’t the one I remember.

Her eyes are sharper now, darker, more feral.

Her skin seems paler, almost luminous in the dappled sunlight, her face gaunt and hollowed.

Her lips curl into a sinister smile that doesn’t feel like my own.

My breath catches as I reach up to touch my face—she mirrors me, bloodied fingers brushing against her sunken cheekbones.

Am I turning into him?

Is it the devil spawn growing inside me?

Or maybe I was the monster all along.

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— Riley C. Smith