The End of the Hunt

To my esteemed colleague, Frederic George Kenyon,

I hope this letter finds you well. Congratulations on your recent appointment. I must report to you this most exciting find! Within this parcel is a transcript of select passages of the diary of the renowned huntsman and explorer, Sir Edmund Crofts, immediately prior to his disappearance forty years ago. A local man discovered it on the bank of the Rhone approximately eight miles north of Avignon. I find both the contents and implications of this diary most disturbing. I must admit that this is not my specialty and hope that one at the British Museum might better interpret these final passages.

Your colleague in learning,

Paul Pelliout

July 12

I know I am on her trail. I investigated another thorp this morning, this one a mere dozen or so miles from Avignon. All thirty-eight men of fighting age disappeared in the night without so much a trace. A great commotion in the early hours before dawn awoke the town, drawing out the men to its defense. Scant minutes did they fight before the clamor of battle was no more. Upon the morn, not a weapon nor drop of blood betrayed what happened the night before.

Without a doubt, this town is but another like the countless before, suddenly bereft of men in the night. The trail points further south still, the disappearances more frequent and more recent as I travel. A mere four days have passed between the disappearance and my investigation. I wish I could tarry longer in aid to these people, yet my obligation is not to the victims, but those to be. The authorities, of course, blame the Prussians, a convenient excuse and scapegoat. It may be the fault of this war what bid her wake, though she is certainly no friend to the Prussians. Not a single soldier have I spoken to that does not fear the legend of the beast.

For now, the most I can do is follow the trail and wait. I have heard no news of disappearances since this last. Her hunger must be at its limit. I intend to confront her as she takes her prey next. She shall meet her end by my gun.

July 13

I stay now in another nameless thorp, the first unmarred by the beast's insatiable hunger. I prepared my shot this afternoon, a load sure to fell even so great a beast: four ounces of lead hardened with zinc and quicksilver and twenty drachms powder. I cast my shot in the wood near the river, careful to hide my purpose from the locals. A stray Englishman in the midst of this war is strange-enough, much less one preparing to hunt a beast of legend. Nonetheless I must maintain close vigil if I wish to catch her. No less than fifty-three men may perish should I fail. I eat little for fear the weight may fatigue me. Coffee is my only companion, insurance against an unexpected bout of exhaustion. The sun sets in a quarter hour by my watch. In mere hours I shall report on my success. I fear I shall not have words to write should I fail.

July 14

This cannot be. My own eyes must deceive me, for what I saw this night was no creation of God or Devil. No unholy beast of war was she, but a woman! Near to four yards she stood, at least forty stone of neither man nor beast. Where would be arms were rough, scaled limbs tipped in four vicious talons and where would be legs stood thick columns of hide and muscle like those of a reptile. A tail half as tall as she lay behind, a row of thick spines upon its crest.

My eyes looked straight through the beast, seeing naught but the woman. The night did little to hide her unnatural beauty. She stood naked in the clearing, a body surely made for sin, as though a demon born to tempt men. The light of the moon shone off her voluptuous bosom, each as large as my head, maybe more. Long dark hair spilled down her back, clinging tightly to an ample rear. Her skin, though cloaked by darkness, held the same tint and shine of the fairest women of the south of France.

For a long moment, I am ashamed to say, I gawked at the beast. She drew near, unaware of my presence until she stood no more than two rods before me. I took careful aim and fired, though in a haze, I missed my mark. I hit instead her thigh, just below the cleft of her pelvis. It was a clean shot. I saw the blood, saw her stagger with my own eyes, yet she would not fall! Instead she ran, faster than any beast I had hunted and much faster than a man. I followed the blood trail until it stopped. To my surprise I found not her corpse but a small pool of blood and scraps of wet cloth! Like her body, her mind must be more man than beast. I have never before hunted a foe with man-like cunning, much less one so superior in body. Despite my failure, I still believe a well-placed shot should fell her. For now, I can do little else but follow her spoor before it is swept away by the next rain. I only fear that I have made my intentions known to her and that I may find myself hunted.

July 15

The trail meanders without reason. Despite my better judgment, I continue in pursuit. I would guess the odds even that I have been snared in a trap. The speed of my pursuit left no time to plot and track my position and I must ruefully admit that I am quite lost. If need be, I am certain I could reach the Rhone within two days, though I would almost certainly never see her again.

What concerns me most is that I do not myself know the reason I pursue her so fervently. I tell myself she must be killed, that no such beast should be allowed to live. Yet as I sit, I find myself thinking of her, picturing her perfect body and what it must feel like. I yearn to see her once more, to touch and - dare I think it - more.

July 16

She must be close. The tracks I follow cannot be more than a few hours old, yet the encroaching darkness means I must again delay our encounter. I shall certainly see her in less than a day's time, yet I feel nothing but hesitation and uncertainty. I think of what I am to do and find myself trembling. Is it truly right to kill such a creature? Perhaps there is another way, some method to avoid further bloodshed. My thoughts race even as a write. My concentration lapses and I find myself entirely off her trail. I wonder what she is doing, what she is feeling.

This morning, I caught myself smelling the ground on which she made bed. It smelled of sweat and something more, an aroma distinctly inhuman but unmistakably feminine. I was freed from my reverie only by the uncomfortable tightness of my pants.

July 17

I was never the hunter. I awoke to find her tracks, fresh as the morning dew, scattered about my camp. Her size is no hindrance, even in undergrowth. I am her prey. She toys with me, knowing that she can take my life at any time. I allowed myself to be lured into a trap of which I was aware. And for what? I have become infatuated with the beast, infatuated by what will be my death.

I have no recourse. I shall wait for nightfall. She will return. This time I will be ready. One of us dies tonight. If I shall meet my end here, it will be with gun in hand.

July 18

I do not know by what merit or whim of fate I still live. I have failed utterly, without even firing a shot. She was upon me before I had even a chance to ready my weapon. I was struck but once and rendered unconscious.

I awoke in a cave, likely near the bank of the river. Enough light filters through the ceiling for me to write and examine my confines. The exit appears to be above water, though I dare not move to escape. She may think me already dead and may attack again if I attempt to flee. For the time being, I will attempt to rest and determine her motivation.

July 19

All she does is stare. She has been watching me nonstop for what must be hours. Perfectly still, unblinking. Even as I write, she watches, fixated but impassive. She sits like a dog, on her haunches and hands. She does not respond to either English or French, but she does seem as though she is listening. I cannot gauge if she understands.

She is approaching now. I need-

July 20

Even with my fear and the distance between us, her posture and expression were clearly readable. It spoke of a deep an insatiable hunger, yet not of violence. In vain, I scrunched my body against the wall, pulling in my legs to protect myself. The stone was cold against my naked body but the heat of fear kept me warm. She grabbed my legs, forcing them open and exposing my maleness. I was already half-stiff with arousal, her voluptuous form enticing me despite my terror.

To my surprise, I was not devoured whole. Instead, she brought her face to my groin and breathed deeply, taking in my scent. A moment later, six long inches of tongue came from her mouth, thick drops of viscous saliva rolling to the bottom and hanging briefly before falling on my cock. It was much hotter and thicker than a human's, running in slow rivulets down my length. I grew to full hardness quickly with the teasing sensation.

Her mouth came ever closer, my prick twitching as her hot breath caressed me. Her tongue reached out to touch me, settling at the base of my pego. It was slightly firm and very rough, almost like a cat's. It slid up my length with some difficulty, catching and pulling at my skin. Were in not for the copious fluids rolling off it, I doubt it could move at all. In one long stroke, it drew from my base up. My head lolled as she licked the underside of my tip, paying careful attention to where my foreskin met my shaft. Her tongue circled around my hole before running down the top of my shaft. The air was cold against my wet skin but her tongue was hot, spreading its warmth down to the root.

Her lips pressed together, kissing softly at my base before making their way slowly to the tip. I could feel her tongue sneaking between her teeth with each kiss, adding more of her delightful fluids. She kissed fully at points and at others simply rubbed, dragging her wet and full lips across my rod. I gripped the rough stone with both hands, resisting the urge to push up and into her mouth. In truth, I was frozen in shock at the sight of my fantasies playing out before me.

Kiss-by-kiss she approached my head, prodding my hole again with the tip of her tongue before taking it in her mouth. She held me no deeper than the crown but it was already greater pleasure than I had ever imagined. Her abrasive tongue pressed against my underside, wrapping tightly around it as her lips squeezed around my crown. Her beautiful amber eyes met mine, apparently seeking my approval before continuing. Without a thought I nodded, first in response and then in ecstasy as more of me entered her sweet mouth. With agonizing slowness, she took in more and more, sucking delightfully on my prick, all the while wrapping and twirling her tongue about my underside.

Her lips met the half of my rod when I felt a new constriction about my tip. I knew at once that I was pressing against her throat and expected my trespass in her mouth to end. Instead, she continued, swallowing at first another inch and then more. A moment later, my head was wrapped in the firm and wet walls of her throat. They squeezed and pulsed around me, pulling and prodding me in ways I had never before felt. I shook in fits as my meat disappeared into her throat until I felt her lips kiss my root.

I tried to restrain myself but failed, my hand reaching out to rest on the back of her head. Her hair was rough but smooth, likely unwashed. It slipped between my fingers as they wrapped the back of her head. I feared she may be angry but if anything, my action encouraged her. She sucked harder yet as she retreated, the sweet pressure inside her mouth building with every inch. Her tongue pressed in waves against me, dragging and stroking my loose skin. She stopped as her lips met my crown to roll her tongue about my head before delving once more down. Faster this time, I felt my head again squeezed deliciously by the tightness of her throat a mere moment later. Her tongue stroked against the motion of her mouth, pressing its tip against my pego and pulling upwards as her lips went further down.

The moment she met my groin, she again lifted her head, nearly releasing my cock before engulfing it vigorously. She built a steady rhythm, her head bobbing slowly but insistently. I did not see as her clawed hand wrapped gently around my balls, squeezing and rolling the orbs about her hand. I jumped in fear at her touch, unused to and slightly perturbed as hands so scaled and tough touching me. My concern fled as soon as her throat clenched, feeling as though she tried to swallow my cock whole. Noticing my pleasure, she repeated herself, swallowing again and again as I pierced her throat. Her hand never ceased its frigging of my balls, pulling tenderly as though coaxing my release. Indeed it would not be long, the tightness in my groin building to a peak. I held back with all my might, unwilling to end the heavenly experience so soon.

As though she sensed my resistance, her pace increased furiously, my entire length piercing and withdrawing in scarcely more than a second. More and more saliva filled her mouth, sticking to my prick and slowly drooling from her mouth. It gathered in a great puddle at my root, issuing thin ropes that clung to her lips when they met. The sound of our congress rang through the room, the wet squelches, fleshy slapping, and low moaning rising in lewd harmony. Her eyes watered with the effort, my prick obviously forcing her to gag. I released my hand, thinking she may wish to leave off. She showed no concern, frigging me in her throat with wild abandon.

My other hand met my first, fingers meeting on the back of her head. With my hands, I encouraged her, playing gently with her hair as I helped her up and down my cock. I began to swoon, the pleasure of her mouth too intense. I pulled down as I thrust up, hoping and trying to force every inch of my rod into her waiting throat. It clenched and wrung around me as she gasped and struggled in my grip. Right as soon as I felt my seed start to flow, her knuckle located a spot midway between my balls and taint and pressed with incredible strength into the sensitive flesh beneath. I flooded her mouth with half a dozen thick shots, my groin aflame with pleasure. A delightful tingling sensation spread almost to my taint as my orgasm ran rampant.

When I finally stopped, I could tell that her mouth was nearly full. The thick mixture of saliva and sperm enveloped my length. She retreated slowly, sucking carefully to prevent even a drop from escaping our mouth. My head fell from her with a pop, half-stiff and glistening with juices. Her mouth hung open, pointed tongue slipping out. My white fluid showed clearly on her tongue in long, thick strands of pearl. They flowed slowly down her tongue with her own saliva. The mixture formed strands, dripping down from her tongue to my groin. I watched in rapt attention as my own sperm coated my prick as she drooled my load from her mouth.

Had I not just released, I would have been fully erect yet again with her display. Her eyes met mine as her head bowed, laying neatly on my thigh. She licked slowly, dragging her rough tongue through the pool she just made, drawing it into her mouth and swallowing. Her clawed hands held apart my legs, holding me steady as her tongue tickled and scratched my skin, lapping up every trace of our mating. She made a show of it, drawing great strings of white between her tongue and I before lowering her head to devour more. She licked my softening member, stabilizing it gently with her hand as she cleaned it meticulously. I felt the barest resurgence of vitality as she finished cleaning me, but I doubt I could have given her any more. Sleep was fast approaching. Her hands moved to grab my waist, pulling me close to her body as she lay on her side with me. My face landed directly between her ample breasts, trapped in her smell and soft flesh. She held me close and made bed, her scaly body protecting her from the harsh rock and her womanly softness serving as my own bed. I fell asleep in her arms shortly thereafter, held snugly in her grip and never more content.

I find myself growing hard again as I write this the following morning. I awoke alone, yet I do not get the impression that she has left me here. I write now to pass the time, using the late morning sun creeping through the ceiling to record my experience.

I am unsure what to do now, having abandoned the original reason for my expedition. Given what has happened between us, I know that I may not allow this woman to come to harm. For the time being, then, I am willing to stay where she is. Perhaps with some effort we may be able to converse.

July 21

She returned this afternoon, bringing with her food to share. Regrettably, it does not seem as though she has any need to cook her food, so we ate the deer raw. I admit that I have eaten far worse in my time but I will still insist on teaching her of cooking. I talked over dinner, making an effort to teach her the names of things that lay about her cave. She gave me her attention, though I still cannot decide if she understands what I say.

I ate quickly, in equal measures due to my hunger and revulsion at eating the deer raw. Unsurprisingly, her appetite was voracious. She ate most of the meat and all of the skin and bones, tearing into it with her claws and rending it finely. I would have been terrified by the sight, had I not seen how gentle she could also be. She left when she finished, washing in the river and disposing of what little remained. When she returned, she laid immediately down and slept. An hour later now, she is still asleep and I have nothing to do. I think I will take the opportunity to venture outside and gather supplies for a fire. I do not know how often she eats, but I cannot face another raw meal today.

July 23

I was accosted the moment I returned. I left for less than a quarter hour to gather some wood and kindling, as well as to regain my bearings and was greeted as though I had come back from the dead. Before I knew what was happening, I was on my back, straddled by the Tarrasque as she smelled and inspected every inch of my body in a panic. I patted and stroked her head, which seemed to ease her concern. She embraced me tightly, breasts pushing firmly into my shoulders. Their weight was incredible, engulfing me in their softness. The smell of her musk and her voluptuous embrace made me rampant, my swelling rod reaching to meet her bottom.

Without breaking her embrace, she began to rock, rubbing her skin against mine. My prick slipped between her mound and thigh, caught between our bodies. Our lips met a moment later. Her kiss was rough and inexpert, though filled with passion. I moved to cup her heaving breasts, holding as much as I could within my hands. Her teats grew hard and pressed against my hands as I rubbed them. I yearned to touch more of her, exploring every inch of her smooth, toned body with my fingers. She squirmed under my touch, obviously unused to being molested so. To have such a powerful beast quaking at my touch made me desire her even more. I began to leak, smoothing the passage of my cock between our bodies. I wished to plunge inside her immediately, though her size made it impossible for me to direct her.

I began to nibble and bite at her ear in hopes that I could convince her to allow me inside. Her breath played along my neck and sent shivers up my spine. Her breath was quick and hot, her chest heaving shallowly. In return, she nipped and suckled at my neck, nearly drawing blood with her vigor. My hands found her bottom, which was just as weighty and soft as her breasts. I squeezed and pulled them apart, massaging it and all else I could reach. Slowly, I guided her forward so I could enter her.

She froze when my tip kissed her folds, stopping stiff and straight. She dripped with wetness as I prodded her entrance, confused as to her sudden reaction. She looked nervous, of all things. I, who though I was to be eaten just a day ago, could not understand why she hesitated so. I pushed gently forward, my skinned pintle piercing her silken folds. She was so tight as to restrict my movement, nearly forcing me out of her even as I pushed in. She shook in waves, squeezing my prick with steady rhythm. I slipped deeper inside her as she relaxed, careful to not risk injury by fighting her strength. She grimaced as I pushed inside, yet the oily slickness of her slit and the excitement in her breath told me to press on. The further I pushed, the more resistance I met, as though she wished to bar my entrance. When next she relaxed, I gave on good shove, burying myself to the hilt before she would force me out.