Page 6 of Squatch Out!
CHAPTER FOUR
SEAN
Twenty minutes earlier…
I fall back into my recliner with a groan.
After hiking up and down the mountain, all I want to do is kick my feet up and watch some mindless show for the rest of the night.
With a steaming bowl of stir-fry in one hand and the TV remote in the other, I pop the footrest up as I scroll through the satellite channels to the latest episode of the cowboy series I’ve been watching.
My brother and I have worked for the forest service since we were practically kids.
And as card-carrying members of the Coast Salish peoples, we’re also kind of responsible for making sure the old treaties signed between the government and tribes are enforced.
I’ve always taken that to mean we’re something like caretakers for this stretch of the Olympic range.
It’s already been a busy season, with warmer-than-usual weather, but the next couple weeks will be some of our busiest as tourists try to squeeze in their last-minute vacations before the kids have to go back to school.
Trekking up and down the mountains is hard work, but as I’m getting older—I turned thirty-five just last month—I’m beginning to feel like something is missing.
I don’t enjoy the mountains as much as I used to.
I’ll always prefer the open spaces and nature to being stuck in the city, but lately I find myself getting… lonely up here all by myself.
Sure, I’ve got my brother for company, and the other rangers are as close as family, but that just means half the time we’re at each other’s throats.
Not to mention, being this far from civilization makes it hard to find women.
The ones who spark an interest usually aren’t looking to settle down.
I used to be more than fine with the no-strings hook-ups.
But I’m starting to find myself wanting something more .
As the familiar score for the series starts to play, I dig my fork into the bowl of rice and veggies. The strong scent of ginger and soy sauce stings my nose, and my mouth waters in anticipation of the tangy-sweet flavor when suddenly, a loud scream cuts through the quiet night.
My hand pauses in front of my wide-open mouth.
What the hell is that?
The sound comes again, and the hair down the back of my neck stands up. It sounds like… something roaring? It’s nothing like any of the usual animal sounds I’m used to, and it seems to be coming from somewhere down the mountain.
I mute the show and set my dinner aside as I rock forward, straining my ears as another growling screech cuts through the quiet.
What is that? My sensitive hearing picks out what could be a cougar’s sharp yelp but with undertones from a grizzly bear’s snarl.
It’s definitely not something natural, more like something that’s been tampered with and…
digitized ? Whatever it is, it’s got my curiosity triggered, and I kick the footrest out of my way.
The longer I listen, it becomes clear it’s on a loop. Then realization hits me.
Shit, the god-awful howling is meant to sound like a sasq’ets in distress.
My brother and I share a very rare, very secret , genetic mutation. It’s a gene that only a very small number of families throughout the world share and we’re one of a handful of families along the West Coast. Few people know anything about it since most wouldn’t believe us if we told them.
Owen and I are sasq’ets . More commonly known as sasquatch . Or simply squatch.
After pushing myself out of my chair, I’m out the door and heading down the mountain toward whoever is responsible for the recording.
My mind is churning as I prepare myself for a confrontation with a group of bigfoot hunters.
We get them on occasion, and after last year's “sighting,” where my brother had to chase a hiker out of restricted tribal land, I’m growing more certain that’s what I’m going to find.
The howls grow louder as I run down the side of the mountain, realizing they are coming from Windy Ridge, a popular campsite.
The “hunters” tend to be the most obnoxious campers. They have something to prove and come up with the strangest means to get the proof they are seeking. Like thinking they can lure us from the forest with the equivalent of a deer call.
More often, the proof they actually get is nothing, and we don’t have to do anything. Occasionally, a group gets lucky, though. Like the hiker last year. Lucky for us, most people don’t believe that sasquatch actually exist, so we’re able to spin most stories away from the truth.
When the howling suddenly cuts off, I slow my strides and come to a full stop just inside the tree line.
Now that I know what the sound is, and where it’s coming from, I should just leave them be.
They are secluded enough out here that they aren’t bothering anyone.
Since Owen and I are the only sasq’ets up here, I’ll just give him a heads-up to be careful around Windy Ridge and keep an eye on them to make sure they don’t cause trouble for other campers.
I’m about to turn around and head back up the mountain when the wind shifts and I’m punched in the face by the sweetest aroma. It goes straight to my head, and I greedily drag in more of the heady scent until it’s filling my senses with notes of soft female and wildflower honey.
This woman’s scent is as unexpected as it is arousing, and suddenly my clothing is gone, ripped to shreds from the sudden transformation as I go from human to squatch. My cock extrudes from its protective sheath to swing ahead of me as I rush through the trees toward the campsite.
My mind screams for my squatch to stop, but I’m half drunk on her pheromones as I stride into the open.
Four pairs of eyes turn to stare at me, but I hardly notice them because all my focus is on the small female backing away from me.
I growl softly as I stalk toward her, caught up in my instincts rather than the rational side that spews warnings as I drag more of her potent fragrance over my sensitive olfactory senses.
I’m no longer in control of my body.
She is my entire focus as my powerful legs eat up the distance between us.
Two of the men she’s with come at me, trying to protect her, but I bat them away as if they were insects. Weak. They fall away far too easily, unworthy of being anywhere near this woman.
With my cock jutting out in front of me, leaking pre-cum from the tip like a faucet, I reach for her.
Her golden-brown eyes are wide as she stares at my straining erection. A small pink tongue moistens her lips, and her slender throat works when she swallows. She drags her eyes up to search my face. For an instant, I see a flash of curiosity before her fear takes over and she spins around to flee.
But I’m faster.
Her scream is soft and musical as my hands circle her tiny waist. I shush her to let her know I would never hurt her, but she fights me.
Fists and feet land harmless blows against my legs and chest as I lift her up and toss her over my shoulder.
That nagging voice in my head is begging me to put her down, but the way her scent fills my nose with every breath has me under a spell as I turn back to the forest.
The two men have regrouped and come at me again, trying to take their woman back, but she’s mine . I easily sidestep them, but they follow. My strides are much longer, and my powerful body is built for these woods, which makes it easy to leave them behind once I reach the trees.
My feet eat up the steep mountain terrain as the woman over my shoulder continues to scream and fight.
Hiking her up higher on my shoulder, I offer more soft sounds, hoping to calm her.
When that doesn’t work, I clap a large hand over her ample denim-covered backside, groaning at how the stretchy material hugs her curves.
Her sweet scent is even more potent this close to my nose, and it muddles the rational thoughts trying to break through my thick head.
“Hey!” she squeaks, beating on my back and twisting around on my shoulder. “Get your hands off me!”
I give her round bottom another squeeze and growl a warning for her to be still, enjoying the way her soft cheek feels under my palm. A shudder runs through me, and my cock pulses, dripping more pre-cum onto my thighs.
I’ve left the campsite far behind us when the nagging voice in the back of my mind starts up again.
What are you doing? Do you have any idea how many laws you just broke? Not just tribal laws, either. Kidnapping is a felony!
I pause. I’ve never felt this splintered before, like there are two separate beings in my body. I’ve always been Sean—whether I’m human or squatch. But suddenly I have this whole other instinct that has taken control.
I should take this woman to my cabin and apologize, then take her back to her campsite. But that idea, the very thought of letting her go, has my squatch snarling, and since he’s currently in control, he climbs higher up into the mountains.
We need to take her somewhere quiet. Somewhere we won’t be interrupted.
There is a cave not far from here, one of many throughout the mountain range.
Owen and I call them bug-out caves, since they’re used as emergency shelters for anyone who finds themselves lost or trapped by bad weather.
They are marked on most trail maps but are remote enough that I’ve only heard of a few humans ever using them.
Mostly they are used by fellow Salish mountaineers and other squatch.
The higher I climb, the colder the air grows, until the woman over my shoulder falls quiet and begins to shiver. I pull her down, so she’s pressed to my chest and shelter her with my furry arms.
Almost there, little one. I want to tell her, but speech isn’t really a thing we can do as squatch. So, I pick up my pace instead.
By the time I reach the cave, her scent has completely gone to my head, and my cock is hard enough, I could pound nails with it.
My fingers dig into her soft ass as I rip open the covering that’s pulled across the cave’s entrance.
The air inside is stale and cold as I stride to the back where there is a small lantern.
My vision is far better in my squatch form, but even I can’t see well in complete darkness, so it takes some fumbling with the light, hoping the cool temps haven’t drained the battery. I let out a relieved sigh when it flickers to life.
With the small space illuminated, I tell myself that sliding her down the front of my body is completely unintentional and not at all so that I can feel her soft curves pressing against me once more.
The moment her feet hit the dirt-packed floor, she stumbles away from me, putting several feet between us. The corners of my lips quirk when I realize her sweatshirt has a picture of Bigfoot, Nessie, and a UFO. How appropriate.
She’s breathing fast, and her plump pink lips are slightly parted as she stares down at my feet.
Then, slowly, she drags her eyes up my legs before stopping at my hips where they widen at the sight of my cock pointing straight at her.
She lets out a soft gasp and I wrap my fist around my thick length, letting out a deep groan as I squeeze.
I try not to imagine how much better her smaller hand would feel on my heated flesh, as I slowly glide my palm up my shaft to the glistening tip. Her eyes are locked on my hand as she staggers back and into the shelves that run along the back of the cave.
The bitter underlying scent of her fear flares between us when she looks past me to the opening of the cave.
I can see her calculating the distance and how she might get past me, but then her eyes drop back to where my hand runs up and down my turgid length, and the sweet scent of her arousal takes over to fill the small space.
I keep stroking myself as I wonder if her hair, which is the color of wheat in sunshine, is just as soft and silky as it looks.
I step closer, wanting to test that theory, but my human side manages to push forward, and forces me to back up.
My squatch snarls but accepts the small distance, making sure to keep myself between her and freedom.
What is happening? What am I doing?
Fuck, this is so wrong. I’ve never had my instinct ride me hard like this, to the point that I have lost all control.
Especially when the woman’s eyes lock onto my pumping fist and her tongue darts out to slowly slide across her bottom lip.
Her cheeks are pink, and her pupils are dilated, so that only a slight ring of her warm brown irises is visible.
Her scent shifts, changing from wildflower honey to sweet sun-ripened peaches covered in thick cream.
Another low growl rolls from deep within my chest as I imagine her dropping to her knees before me. Parting those puffy pink lips then sticking her tongue out, looking up at me as she silently asks me to feed her.
Her eyes flare when I grunt, reaching my other hand under my pumping fist to grip my heavy sack, squeezing hard enough that my knees try to buckle, and my eyes slide closed.
Behind my eyelids, I envision this pretty little woman closing her plump lips around the mushroom-shaped head of my cock.
Swiping my thumb across the sensitive tip, I pretend it’s her tongue, licking away the drops of pre-cum that collect there.
My testicles tighten as heat sears a path up my length. Pinching my fingers under the flared tip, I try to hold back my orgasm, but it’s too late. My eyes fly open, and I focus on the woman across from me as the first lash of cum shoots across the packed-dirt floor.
Her mouth falls open in shock as I let out a deep groan and stroke out another spurt. A shudder racks my body, and I level my gaze on her when I ejaculate a third time. Letting out a hoarse bark, I milk my shaft with my fist as the last trickles of my seed spills over my fingers.
When I finish, I’m breathing hard.
The woman is staring at me. The expression on her face is hard to read. I’m expecting horror, but it’s not that. It’s not quite shock, either. It almost looks like— excitement .
But that can’t be right.
Fuck. How many laws have I broken now?
Oh, no, you didn’t just break them. You annihilated them.
Stumbling back a step, my blood turns cold with my embarrassment at what I’ve just done. I shake my head at her, trying to offer a silent apology before turning to run out of the cave and into the night.