Unnatural Instinct: Amazon

17.

You're not silly enough to meet her head on. You're a big woman, but she's a giant. You stand your ground until the moment her fingers brush against your breasts, then spin out of the way. Carried by her huge momentum, she lumbers into the trees, braces one big foot against the nearest trunk and propels herself back into the fight with a hard push. The tree shudders. Her footsteps sound like thunder.

You meet her return with a punch to her face. You spin, kick and leap. You get plenty of shots that make her stagger and shout and lurch. Blood pours from her nose. You're pretty sure you've cracked one of her teeth.

But it's not enough.

You attempt to duck one of her punches—too slow. She hits you with such power that it sends you staggering backwards. Blood fills your sinuses and gushes out the end of your nose. The world turns to a red blur. You taste it. It feels so hot. You spit out a mouthful. At each furious breath the smell of iron fills your lungs.

She swings again. You dodge and spin, then sweep out your foot in an attempt to trip her up. She jumps and throws a punch right down on the top of your head. Pain explodes between your ears, behind your eyes and down through the back of your neck. This time it drives you to your knees. The jungle spins sickeningly. You black out for a moment, dropping to all fours. You shake your head, forcing yourself to stay conscious, only to black out again. You drop to your side.

This isn't working. This isn't right. You're the better fighter. What are you doing?! Get up. Get up! But your body feels so heavy. It doesn't even feel like yours. And you realise with horror that she's stunned you. All you can do is stare up at her as she peers down at you wearing that Goddess-damned hideous smile.

She bends over, hands braced against her knees, her large, pendulous breasts hanging over your face as she looks you over. The blood from her still gushing nose drips onto your forehead.

'Afraid?' she grins.

You manage to clench your right fist. Already, you're starting to get control. You can see she realises it too. She grunts, then looks across her shoulder. You suddenly hear it—the rustling of bushes.

Christopher.

She sneers at you, a scheming glint in her eye, before walking over to him. Dread clutches at your heart.

'N-n-n-n ...' is all you can manage. 'St-t-t-t ... bi-bi-bi-bi ...'

You try to sit up, only to writhe and jerk about like a worm burning on a hot stone.

Your ears ring with the sound of his screaming as you manage to flip onto your stomach. Grippla's laughter echoes in your ears as she drags him out of the bushes by his ankle. Stuck in the ground litter, you grunt and snort as you struggle to breathe against a mouthful of rotting leaves.

Still screaming, he rolls over and tries to swipe at her but all she does is drop his leg and stomp one of her big boots into his chest, forcing him back to the ground with a cry. She glances back at you with a sneer. And you suddenly realise what she's doing—she's going to hurt you through hurting him.

'N-n-n ...!' You try to claw your way over but your arms have no strength.

She just laughs as she turns back to Christopher. Dragging down her boot, she gently massages him between the legs. He grabs at her ankle with a groan.

'Come here,' she snickers, and she lifts away her boot and yanks him to his knees by his arms. He sways a moment and almost falls but she grabs him by the head to steady him.

'Like I said, a man needs to know his place. Now, do what you're good for and lick me.'

He doesn't move, looking up at her in a daze as blood drips onto his chin and chest from a large cut on his lip.

'I said, lick me!'

He grimaces as she digs her fingers more deeply into his scalp. 'You will do as you're told, like a good, little bastard.' He gives a muffled shout as she shoves his face between her legs.

You can hear him gasping and choking as she rubs his face against her. All he can do is claw desperately at her big arse. Grippla snickers again.

You can feel your strength slowly returning but it's not fast enough.

'I said, lick me!' she snarls, slapping him hard across the head. It knocks him sideways but she keeps a firm hold on him. Then she digs her fingers into his scalp until he cries out and he's forced to obey. You can hear it. You can hear the wet slap of his tongue against her flesh. You can hear the slurping and sucking. It grips you by the heart to think he's finally submitted. After all his courage and pride, he's finally given in. Then you see something that gives you hope. No. He hasn't given up the fight completely.

His hands—one is clawing at her hip, just as you're clawing your way through the muck. But the other—it's reaching over to her crack.

'That's good. That's good!' Grippla pants, arching her neck as he continues to suck. With a groan, she spreads her legs more to give him better access—bad idea. His fingers find their target. With a shout, she reaches back to grab at his hand, but just as she does, you seize onto her ankle.

She turns with a start. Her face darkens.

With a snarl, she turns her body and pulls back her other leg. All you see is her boot coming towards you—and all you can do is stare at it in a daze. It seems to move in slow motion—and there is no way you can move out of its way.

Then it hits. You feel a shock of pain down your neck as your head thrusts back. Pressure. So much pressure in your face. There isn't pain yet, but you can smell the blood. You can feel its thickness surging down your nose in a torrent that coats your lips and chin.

The blackness follows and you know no more.