The Abominable Yeti Girls

(I was taking a well-deserved ski vacation in Vermont when I found what looked to be a book of some sort frozen beneath some ice. I chipped the book out and found it to be some kind of hand written diary. Fifteen full pages in all. From where I had found it, I assumed it would have fallen or been thrown from the cliff above. The last few lines of the book confirm this. It reads, "I have finished writing this manuscript diary, and so I will just toss it off the edge of the cliff we are next to. If someone eventually finds it then they can share it with the world, and let them know that men on Vermont's ski slopes should be careful...very careful." I read the book and found it talked about a small community of Yeti creatures long thought by scientists to exist in the snowy mountains of Vermont. It never dawned on me that such Yeti females might get just as lonely as human females. Now I know, and now you'll know too.)

The rope is tight and unbreakable.

I stare at its eyes, a combination of yellow and black.

Its fur stinks, and is so putrid up close, I almost want to pass out. I close my eyes and think of the events leading up to my capture.

There had been rumors of Yeti sightings on certain Vermont mountain ranges for decades, but they had all been dismissed as mere fairy tales concocted by the locals to drum up tourism the same way that the fish creature 'Nellie' had done for loch ness.

The tiny town of Pinetree, a mere mile to the south of some of the finest sprawling Rocky Ranges in America, was one such rumored hot spot, and I had gone there, not so much because I cared so much about the hairy ape like legends, but because the snow covered mountain peaks there in Vermont offered some of the best and most exhilarating ski slopes in the entire world.

I had grown up an avid skier, and on this occasion had brought my fiancé, Ginger to be with me. Only she was dead now, her frozen body lying at the bottom of some obscure, tree mangled ravine, inaccessible to humans. I suppose that some fleet of foot foxes or wolves had found her carcass by now and were probably grinding her bones between their steel hard teeth.

I had no idea the female Yeti creature had been watching Ginger and I for hours on that fateful day. We had spotted the strange tracks, smelt the putrid odor from nearby bushes, and even seen the tops of those bushes shake as though something were hiding behind them. And yet, we paid the odd occurrences no mind, caring instead to be totally obsessed with each other. After skiing for a few hours, we had broken off from the main group using the ski lifts, and instead explored some nearby deserted caves. I had started a roaring fire, laid down a blanket, opened a bottle of fine wine, then made passionate love to the woman of my dreams. We had no idea that the ten foot tall Yeti creature had been following us, and had somehow become fascinated with me. Looking back on it now, I think it safe to assume that there were no suitable Yeti males remaining on those Vermont slopes, and that the female, desperate for some companionship and a male to breed with, had seen me making love to Ginger and had become obsessed with me.

After making love to Ginger, I had gotten dressed and went to fetch our things from the cave entrance. As Ginger was putting on her jacket, the pale yellow creature just suddenly appeared. Ginger screamed and the creature picked her up and tossed her over its shoulder.

The creature seemed angry and steam flared out of its nostrils as it carried my fiancé out to the edge of the cliff and threw her over, where her arms flailed helplessly at the five hundred foot drop to her death on the rocks below.

It was obvious to me that the creature was desperate to mate and had become jealous of Ginger.

And so, here I stand, with my legs spread open and my arms tied at the wrists as I dangle helplessly from the ceiling.

The damnable yellow furred female sniffs at me and then roars her approval, her thick leather like black fingers wrapping tightly around my cock as she plays with it, trying obviously to make it as hard as iron.

And I soon am hard, succumbing to her pumping hand which grips my cock so damn tightly, I think it is going to become squished in her vice like fingers.

And then it happens, she lets go of my cock, turns around, and then forces her pussy hole to press over top of my swollen and reddened cock.

She groans as she lets the weight of her lower body press onto my erection. I am stunned at how damn tight and tiny her ape like pussy actually is. She presses her rubber like black breasts onto my chest and the stench of her putrid fur is overwhelming. Still, I kept from passing out at the horrid smell, and I gasped as her pussy was stretched open wide by my thick, eight inch cock. The creature let out a scream of intense joy as it began forcing my erection into deeper thrusts, rising up and down over me, forcing me to glide in and out of her as she groaned in rabid ecstasy.

She kept this up for about ten minutes, kissing my lips and face with her rubbery, foul stench mouth, and pressing her leathery, bullet sized nipples into my chest until she suddenly had an orgasm, and started to gush over my cock like a fountain, wailing in a loud voice as her liquids ran down my thighs.

She shivered in my arms at the unfettered ecstasy, and in a fit of horror I realized that I too was starting to have sensations of a heart stopping climax. As repulsive as this damn creature was, the one thing it had going for it was that its pussy was astonishingly sweet, torturing my cock with an intense bliss so powerful, I that could no longer hold out. She smiles with wanton glee as my sudden groan accosts her furry ears. In seconds I lose control and begin firing my sperm deep into the damnable pussy, feeling my body shake with orgasmic aftershocks.

She just sits on me for the next half an hour or so, her massive weight dangling onto my tied body. I estimate her to weigh to be about five hundred pounds, and the only thing saving me from being completely crushed was the fact her feet were planted on the ground, distributing the effects of her wide girth more evenly and not directly on top of me. As she sits there she tries shoving her nipples into my mouth. They are the one feature, besides her amazing pussy, that is a turn on for me. I am horny over their texture and size, and suck on them rabidly, bringing howls of delight from her lips.

XXX

I awake the next morning to the smell of fish.

My furry female host has obviously been out during the night, visiting the streams not yet frozen over, trying to catch breakfast.

She stares at me constantly, her eyes aglow with some kind of damn ape love. All I know for sure is that she is incredibly strong, and could snap my neck like a twig if she had the mind to do so. I therefore work hard at trying not to piss her off. I still have the horrible image in my mind of her tossing my fiancé Ginger off that cliff, undoubtedly breaking every bone in her body.

As the fish fries, she lets her rubbery giant fingers toy with my horribly swollen and reddened cock. It's like she won't leave the damn thing alone. She seems eerily obsessed with it, and my mind is starting to snap because of it. She seems to think it can withstand any amount of tugging and pulling and thrusting and pumping, but it is starting to hurt. She now squeezes it tighter, her lips curling into this crazy smile. It's almost as if she is trying to train my tortured cock into doing her bidding whenever, wherever and however! She keeps tugging the sensitive skin on my cock up and down, and she watches my face to try and guess if I'm about to reach orgasm or not. She is very good at guessing such things, and usually, just about the time I begin to feel my balls getting ready to explode, that's the time she'll back off, and I'll end up not having that earth shattering orgasm after all. One of the effects of her doing this over and over is that it makes me impossibly horny. She does it all day long, stretching my damn cock in her fingers like it was some kind of damn toy dildo, only it's not.

Sometimes she'll put my cock in between her rubbery breasts and move it up and down slowly so we'll both get turned on. Then, when I'm as hard as a steel pipe, she'll grip my cock and raise her body above me, lowering that impossibly tight pussy up and down over my erection for hours, carefully watching my eyes, figuring out exactly when I might be getting ready to explode. Then she'll immediately back off, not moving a muscle with my cock still lodged so deeply and heavenly inside of her. Sometimes the orgasmic sensations simple recede into the background, and she'll get to slowly start fucking my ass off again, and sometimes I won't be able to fight off the heavenly sensations, and she'll gasp in glee as my squirts of hard shooting cum fire deep inside, and I wonder, will it be possible for me to breed this damn ape like female. I can tell she wants children real badly, so a part of me is hoping that for my sake she will get knocked up soon. But if it is not scientifically possible for my sperm to fertilize her damn ape egg, then she might start to get really pissed off, love or no love!

Still she must have been very leery of me, and afraid of me escaping, because she keeps me tied up in knots, and watches me virtually always, except when she goes to fish. It is then and there I know I need to come up with a plan to escape or I will forever be trapped in her fantasy world of some kind of strange family, where one of the world's last remaining Yeti creatures is being bred by her human 'husband'. As eerie as it sounds, I know that in her warped and twisted mind, that's exactly what we are, a 'family.'

It has now been about two weeks since my Yeti 'wife' tossed my fiancé Ginger off the cliff. Her dead, mangled body would probably be easy enough to spot if one was a trained individual, and therefore I assume the search parties out looking for us have found her and are scouring every inch of surrounding ground, guessing we probably accidentally took a tumble over the edge together. And then, of course, there would always be the possibility in their minds that my body simply landed in the meandering river, and that it was somehow washed away downstream. And so, with the daily echos of the search party going further and further away, I now assume that that is exactly what they are doing, going further along the river, thinking my body has been washed away. I now doubt that I will ever be found by them or any other authorities. Way up high in the mountain, far above the ski lifts, and lodged in rocky terrain miles away from the skiing crowd, I am now certain they will never find me and soon give up looking for me. People normally don't fall upward. There is no way they would guess in a million years that I had actually ascended miles above the point at which Ginger and I were last spotted going downhill by other skiers.

She suddenly presses some rank fish pieces to my lips and as raw as it is, I am hungry and have no choice. I am going to have to keep learning to wolf down uncooked meat or I am going to have to learn how to starve. She also occasionally finds berries and some carrot like vegetables which at least taste half decent, but they are deep underground and she can't always get to them under the ice and snow, even with her claws.

The daily temperatures are usually just above freezing and the sun is usually bright. It generally snows at night, with the temperature dipping just below freezing, but the cave is cozy, howbeit cold and drafty. The coat I have keeps me somewhat warm but I am certain my fingertips have long acquired frost bite. They are numb, grey and in danger of needing amputation. Luckily for me, my long stiff cock, which is almost always kept exposed to the cold, is being kept warm either by her fiery hot breasts, or her wrapped circled fingers or her steaming, wet pussy. Still she at times dozes off, leaving my exposed cock to brave the chilly elements. I am hoping it won't turn grey like my fingertips. I'm smart enough to know that the only reason she keeps me alive, is so that she can get me to breed with her. If my cock should suddenly stop functioning, then I have no illusions about which cliff I would be taking a head first dive off of.

I continue to work the ropes whenever she is not looking, which is rare. She reaches the point where she doesn't check as much, probably thinking I have accepted my fate as being her permanent Mr. Yeti."

Over the course of the next few days, I have worked the ropes by flexing my wrists and wiggling my fingers to the point where the ropes have now garnered some slack. But I don't dare try and take my hands out just yet. Even if I should get my hands out, there is always my feet, tied at the ankles so meticulously, that it would take several minutes or so to undo them with my freed hands. I decide to wait till tonight, when she is asleep.

I'm hopeful she won't want to work on my erection again tonight, but as usual, my hopes go the way of all flesh. She grips my cock and works it in her grubby giant fingers for hours on end, bringing me to the brink of orgasm, then backing off so I won't be able to explode. As usual, I assume she will soon start riding my cock and make me explode deep inside of her. My assumption is correct. Her impossibly tight tunnel surrounds my cock and she glides up and down with the usual fervor, watching my face blissfully as she has an orgasm of her own, exploding over my thrusting cock until I finally ignite inside of her as well. I am not sure how much more of this I can take. My mind is beginning to snap. I am consumed with both loathing and fear. Sometimes I think that the best way to deal with my situation is to simply commit suicide by pissing her off. That would most certainly buy me a ticket over the edge of the unforgiving, jagged cliffs where dwindling search parties could at least find my body and give me a decent burial. But, for now, I have a plan, and tonight, as soon as she stops playing with my swollen, overworked cock, I shall put it into action.

The wind seems calmer than usual, especially with us being so high up in the mountains. The stars also seem brighter, and the sound of a lone coyote or howling fox seems eerily absent. I am now concerned that I have perhaps picked the wrong night for my escape. She is a light sleeper, and the absence of any howling, whether it be by boisterous winds or roaming coyotes, means there will be little to mask the clumsy sounds of me trying to undo ropes with frostbitten fingers and then stirring up the crisp ground to get to my untied feet where I might make my escape. And then there is always the question of my coat. She usually removes it when making love to me, only tonight, she has strangely not slipped it back onto my body. Rather, she has tossed it behind her and so I am left with the perplexing problem that even if I should get free of all ropes, I would have to tip toe past her, in the opposite direction of the cave opening, and try to snatch my coat without her realizing it. A tall order indeed, but, as my mooching brother always used to say once a day before begging me for money, 'nothing ventured, nothing gained.' Only now the stakes weren't a few extra bucks gathering dust in my corduroy pockets, but rather my very life! I also had to face the grim prospect that if she did catch me, then she would surely tie me in such a way from now on that would make any future escape attempts, virtually impossible. And yet, I was determined to make tonight the night where I was going to place all my rotting eggs into one basket and attempt a daring escape whether I deemed it to be the appropriate time or not.

I was certain she was sleeping, but suddenly she sits up, gently nudging me. Doesn't she ever tire of my damn human cock??!! I pretend to sleep, a ploy which irks her to no end. She tries to shake me awake, hopeful we can once more make love, which would have made it the third time for the day. I act all groggy and tired. The creature then reaches for my cock but I pull away, a dangerous thing to do when it is in heat. Nonetheless, on this night, the night of my hopeful escape, I catch a break. She yawns, signalling she too is tired, and, seeing as how I am acting totally out of it, she decides to give sex a rest for the night and rolls over on her side, hunkering down for her usual six hour sleep.

I am now perplexed. By turning over on her side, I have no idea as to whether her eyes are open or closed. I wait silently for one full hour, until finally, I hear some faint snores beginning to emit from her rank nostrils. I sigh in relief, knowing that it's a good thing I didn't try to escape earlier. She doesn't snore every night, but if she does snore, it merely meant she was not asleep before that point.

I carefully and as quiet as I can, pry my fingers free from the loosened knots. They slip out easily. My hands are next and then my arms. So far so good.

I now pull my legs up along the ground until my knees are at my chest. I meticulously undo the ankle ropes, taking my time, worrying only about the noise level. She continues to snore away. That tells me I am making real progress.

I gingerly lay aside the ropes onto the ground next to me, careful not to make even the slightest damn peep of noise.

Now comes the hard part, fetching my damn coat. Without it I will freeze before I make it the ten or so miles south along the slope to where the authorities and other skiers are. But it is behind her. I get on all fours and very, very, very quietly, like a mouse, inch round her outstretched body until I can snatch my coat up from off the ground.

I don't dare put on my coat right there and then, because the rustling noise of trying to get the sleeves past my shoulders might be too loud. Instead, I merely move back around its body and make my way ever so quietly toward the cave entrance.

I trudge along methodically, purposefully, not wanting even the slightest sound to permeate the brutal silence.

I take an extra five minutes or so to slip past the actual mouth of the cave, knowing that if she is alerted by even the slightest sound, she will be able to outrun me in treacherous snow drifts.

It is snowing when I reach the outside, and I finally put on my coat. The night chill is brutal, but the collar pulled up high around my neck is enough to at least protect my ears. I glance at my severely frost bitten fingers, certain at least half of them will have to be amputated, but I don't care about that now. All my mind is set on making good my escape.

I trudge through the snow like a mad man. My top of the line, insulated ski boots protect my feet but not my shins as my skin reddens and aches at the prolonged contact with the knee deep snow.

I am paranoid, turning around every thirty seconds to see if perhaps the damn thing is following me. Luckily, on the numerous times I check, it is not. It is not!!

I hope and pray the damn thing will not stir from its sleep for at least until the morning light. Nevertheless, a conservative guess by my tortured mind puts it at just over an hour since I escaped the damnable creature's grasp.

The snow gets deeper and my burning fingers, shoved in my pockets, scream out in pain. My ears also start to itch and blister, a sure sign they too might have to be lopped off due to insidious frostbite, but at least I'll have escaped the damnable creature. At least I'll be alive, and more importantly, free.

Another hour passes, and then another, until finally I start to see the faint outline of sky wires descending into the valley, and buildings where ski lift chairs carry avid skiers to the top of the slopes. I try to go faster, and manage the task, no longer looking behind me because I am certain I have outsmarted the creature.