The camping trip is going well, but you haven't had a minute to yourself in three days, so as soon as you have your camp chores done you decide to take a short hike and have lunch alone. It's your first trip to these woods, in the Black Hills. The trees here feel so much older and more dignified than in Nebraska, with less cluttered undergrowth. After about a mile, you come to a small clearing around a natural spring. It dribbles out the side of an upthrust spike of rock nearly 100 feet high and has formed a crystal clear pool that ripples gently with the current. There is a large, flattish rock to one side of the pool, and you sit down, unpacking your lunch. After you eat, you lie down on your blanket and drift off to a nap with warm sun dappled through the trees, a cool breeze, and silence, except for the dribbling of the spring and the wind in the leaves.
When you wake up, it's nearly dark. Not wanting to worry your friends, you try to call them but your cell has no signal up here. There must be plenty of iron in the rock you decided to nap under. You hurriedly pack your things and start back down the trail, intending to call as soon as you get far enough away from the rock for a signal. You hear a loud *snap* behind you, way too loud to be something stepping on a twig. As you turn, you see a very large humanoid figure stepping out from behind a thick stand of trees, his foot on a broken branch easily two inches thick. You freeze with the sudden shock, your eyes involuntarily widening and your brain going into overdrive as adrenaline surges in your veins. You see that it appears male, wearing a loincloth and tall boots of thick leather. He's about three times taller than you, your eye level being not quite mid-thigh. And he's so broad, his shoulders as wide as you are tall, his arms and chest corded with thick muscle. His face remains shadowed in the waning light of dusk, but he doesn't look angry or malicious.
He steps toward you and your shock turns to panic. You turn and run as fast as you can, but after only a few steps he catches you, fingers thicker than your wrists wrapping around you like you're no more than an oversized doll. You scream and cry and beat on his hands, but his tough skin is impervious to your blows. In these thick woods your screams won't carry far enough for them to hear you back at camp. He makes a gravelly sound that reminds you of laughter as he looks you over, turning you every which way. Satisfied with his inspection, he stuffs you in a large sack he was carrying, surprisingly gentle for one so strong, and takes off at a fast walk.
According to your phone, he carries you for about a half-hour, traveling several miles on his long legs. You seem to be going farther into the mountains and the iron-laced rock if your continued lack of a signal is any clue. Suddenly, the last of the orange sunlight is gone and his heavy footfalls take on a hollow quality: you've gone into a cave. The twists and turns completely disorient you in minutes, and before you know it, you come to a stop and the bag you're in is set down. You hear a rattling and you're lifted out of the bag.
Before you realize what's going on, you feel something cold around your ankle. The creature has fastened you to a chain. It's rough looking iron and you don't see a lock, but your hopes are dashed when you that he twisted the inch-thick bar together like he was closing a bread bag. Nothing you could do would even dent it.
He makes puzzled sounds as he paws at you, tugging at your clothing. Finally, he manages to pull your boots off, painfully unfamiliar with laces. You scream and beat at him, but he seems just as unfazed as before. In the light of the large fire he has going you can see his face. He has a broad nose and jaw, and a heavy brow. And his eyes, there's something in his eyes you've seen before, something surprisingly human, but not at all comforting. It's lust.
Your fear turns to dread, your stomach becomes a lead weight. You want to resist more, to fight, but you're exhausted already, your limbs heavy and sluggish. He pulls your shorts off, tearing them off the chain before he does the same to your shirt. Your resistance spent, physically drained, you try to focus your mind elsewhere. He didn't just tear off your bra and panties leaving you completely exposed and at his mercy, he's not here. You're on a beach, swimming with dolphins. He's not cupping and squeezing your heavy breasts with fingers the size of your arms, he's not here. You're on a beach, swimming with dolphins. You smell the sea breeze and it starts to make your face and chest warm and flushed. No, that's not the sea air, what is that?
