Trial 2 - Part 1: The Other Part Of Being A Wild Animal

The fog groped my leg tightly with its grasp, sucking me back into its void of misery. Here we go again. To become used to this would be a greater suffering than physically experiencing intense levels of pain. I sigh and let it happen, like a victim succumbing to their captor - I am helpless in this situation. I wanted to cry, I wanted to yell and scream and fight, and yet no emotion would force its way outside my eyes for the world to see. I wanted to die as it molested me, forcing me into this sick game to maim and torture my fellow man, because to play and live is a worse fate than to die and sleep peacefully.

To sleep peacefully was not an option here, because to sleep peacefully is to not worry about the world; and in here - To not worry was not an option. To look behind your back for every step you take was normal, because anyone could be it - To be selected was to suffer, and to live was to allow the suffering to take place. Victimhood by simply being there, torture by being alive. There was no depression here, because to be depressed you had to feel something; and that something was sadness. To be here left you with no emotions, a void deep within you cannot describe with words, and that made the suffering worse - Living was not your enemy, time is. Time cannot be stopped, and that makes time your greatest enemy. Time is the dungeon master in this scenario, and I hate it. I hate time with a burning passion, and to say time cannot be killed is false; because time can be killed if you don't exist, and hopefully this trial gave me that opportunity. I wanted to die as I fully emerged into its dark dimension.

The arena was a quiet farm in the middle of winter; it was a quant property with a house and a barn, and a small shed that seemed to top it all off. I landed flat onto the snow below, my face cold because of the wind and the temperature. It was snowing intensely, which could only mean I was in the middle of an active blizzard, so it would be more difficult to see my opponents, my competition in this hell game. The ground felt like I was in hell. The ice under my face was rough to the touch, and the snow was so soft and heavy that it made me wince. It was as if I had landed in the middle of a post-apocalyptic movie. I couldn't feel my hands anymore, but I needed to put on my mask. The same horrible pain came over me, but it wasn't as painful as last time - Oddly enough.

I heard the crackling of my own breath, mixed with the snow and the wind as it flew past my face. All I could hear in this scene was the sound of the wind and the snow. The only thing that kept me from the complete mental and physical death was the sound of that wind. The snow was wet on my face, and my skin was cold. My body shook from the cold, making my fingers tremble and my teeth chatter. The wind had frozen me. It was the same feeling that an astronaut would feel in space, with his feet, hands and head frozen. I could no longer feel my body. My mind still worked, but it felt as if I was in an iron lung, or some sort of cryogenic chamber. I couldn't feel the snow, but I could feel the cold and the wind, and that was my only comfort.

A distant light pierced through the heavy black clouds, and I thought it was hope. My eyes were still frozen, but my body didn't want to accept that. I heard that same crackling sound from my own breath, only at that time it had something different to say. The air tasted like something was burning, and I could smell smoke in the air. It was a dark smoke; it smelled like burned flesh. I knew then that I was not alone. There was someone else around me. I was in a snowstorm, and a small figure stood over me. I didn't feel the wind anymore. The figure stepped forward into the darkening sky, and I saw a woman.

She wore the same pig mask as me, so she was feral as well - A threat to my safety, and potentially her own. She looked like an elf, a fairy. I could smell her body like I was in her scent. She had a white gown that had a hood with red trim on it, but it was a long dress that went to the floor. She didn't have shoes on. Her skin was pale and light, and she looked like she was not used to being out in the weather. I could see her hands, and they were white as a ghost. Her small, pale hands were on me.

I started to move, and she started to come towards me, slowly walking. She approached the snow-covered ground, and she was careful to avoid the frozen areas. She stopped in a pile of snow, a step away from me, and she stopped breathing. I realized then that she had stopped breathing too. I could hear her heartbeat against her ribs and her lungs. She started to breathe again, and the wind started to blow again, and it blew her white hair around. Her eyes were gray, like a ghost in the snow. I could see that she was a creature, and I wondered if she was another feral creature like myself. She was beautiful, even with that mask.

Her movements were unique, even more so in the snow. She stepped around the areas of ice, but she would still slip if she stepped on the ground. I couldn't see her footsteps, but her steps were graceful, like she was dancing. She moved a lot like that. She didn't speak, she didn't even have a heartbeat. She moved to me. Her feet felt like a warm touch, like she was touching my body. I started to shake again, because she was so close to me. Her hands moved to my face, and I could feel them shaking. She touched my cheeks, my mouth, and her fingertips slid across my face. I was frozen again, but her fingers felt warm and she could feel my body moving.

She lifted up my face, and she looked into my eyes. She kept a hold of my face, and I was in her sights. She stared into my eyes, and her hand slid down to my neck, to my chest. She touched my collar bone, and she started to trace her hand along my skin. My own hand moved to touch her neck. I was trying to pull my own face away from her touch, but her fingers felt hot, burning steel as they touched my skin. My own fingers were reaching to feel her face, but her hands still stayed close to me, pulling me up by my neck. My hands gripped her neck tightly, like I could squeeze her heart into my own body. I was pulling her face closer to mine, like I could steal away her breath. I could smell her like I was in her scent. I held her face tighter, crushing my own nose into her flesh.

I reached for her hand, but she pulled it away and it slipped right into my face. My hands fell from her throat, and she pulled away from me. My heart fluttered for a moment, and I was confused. I was frozen in the blizzard, on the ground, and I was in a world where everything was about to die. I couldn't feel anything. I couldn't feel my hands, and I was in a situation that made me feel so empty. I needed that. I needed to feel the fear, the terror, the pain. I wanted to feel that again, like I had on Earth. I felt my heart beat as if it would explode from the pressure, and it was beating against her breast. I moved my own chest against her back, trying to give her the warmth that she had given me, and my chest filled with air as her warm air hit my chest. I was frozen again, and my chest filled with the heat of her breath, and her chest warmed my back, like my whole body was melting in her. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it would kill me. Her hands moved down to my stomach, and her touch made me tremble.

She was pulling me towards her, and her hands moved along my skin. I didn't care if she would kill me. My body was reacting to the touch of her fingers on my chest. I started to feel the need to breathe. I knew that I couldn't breathe if I fell, or if I died. Her hands moved lower, to my chest, and they were pressed tightly against my own chest. I held her tight as I fell from the blizzard. She held me like I was her child. Her touch was light, like a feather against my skin. She was warm against my chest, and her breathing was filling my lungs. I could feel her chest, and her heartbeat with my heart. I was breathing in her air, and it was warming my own chest. She felt like home. My hands moved to her hands that were still warm to my face. Her hands moved slowly, and she was still touching me, but it was like she was caressing my face.

My hands weren't really reacting to her touch, but it felt good. It felt better than being in the snow, in the blizzard, without feeling the wind. Her hands felt like they were my own. I could feel the warmth of her fingers as they moved slowly, slowly down my cheek. I could feel the warmth of her skin, and I didn't feel cold, and I didn't feel cold, and I was in her scent. It felt like the winter day was gone, and I was in her home. I was in her world, and it felt like the only safe place. Her touch had become that of my own touch. I could no longer hear her heartbeat; I was too close to her, and I felt my heart beating with hers.

I moved my hands to her cheeks, pulling them closer to me, and I could feel her breathing more. I put my cheek against hers, and I could feel her warm breath, and the tingling sensation of my cheek touched by her breath. It felt so good, so perfect. My hands started to move along her skin, feeling the texture. She could feel my touch, and I could feel her touch, and it was a perfect thing. It was pure, but perfect. It was right, and it was real. I could hear her heartbeat, and it seemed to be her heartbeat, and I couldn't hear mine. I couldn't hear my own heartbeat. I had no body, or feelings. My hands pulled her face into mine, pulling her closer. She could feel my touch, and I could feel her touch. Her lips were warm, and they were on my cheeks. She was kissing me. I was kissing her.

I could feel her soft lips against mine, her warm breath on my cheeks. My own body moved, and I could feel my chest against her back. My hands moved over her skin, and it was light and delicate. I could feel her hands. They were small, and they were light as if made of smoke. They were delicate, and they were cold like the air that was around us. She moved her hands to my chest, and she started to run her fingers through my hair. I held her tightly as her soft touch made me want to cry. She pulled away from me. Her skin was cold, and she ran her fingers over my chest. Her touch was perfect. It was something my body had never felt before. I could feel my hands pulling her body into mine, like I was embracing her, and she was embracing me. I moved my body forward, my body taking her with me. She could feel my body moving as I moved. Her body was cold, and her skin was cold. My hands could feel her skin, but it was different. I felt like I was feeling the coldest thing I had ever felt in my life. Her lips moved, and my lips moved.

Our kiss started, and I could feel her lips, and I could feel her tongue. I could feel the warmth of her breath, and she could feel my body. She moved her body closer to me, and I held her tighter. Her lips moved to my neck, and her touch was cold against my skin. I pulled her closer, and my hands were moving along her back. Her skin was cold, and I could feel the coldness of her back, but her hands were warm on my back. My heart started to beat again, but it was the beating of her heartbeat, the beating of her heartbeat against my own heart. It was beating so strong, and I could feel it in my chest, like my heart was beating with hers, and it was beating with her hands, and I was feeling it against her back. Our kiss started to break, and her touch started to heat up again.

I pulled away, and I was pulling myself away from her cold skin, and from her cold lips. Her face was like a dream. It was beautiful, and it was so delicate, like a cold blizzard. I could see my skin through her skin. I pulled back and I moved to the cold wind. I looked down at her, and I could see her pale face as she lay there on the ground. Her touch was like a flame, but it burned as hot as a volcano. Her breath was warm against my skin, and I was feeling my body heat.

But she took action, pulling me back in. Her hands were on my body, and they were touching me everywhere. Her fingers were moving up my body, and she was running her hands along my neck, up my chest, and into my stomach. She was feeling everything that I felt. She was touching me like I was touching her. Her hands were on my stomach, on my back, my neck, and it made my heart pound. She was pulling me into the warmth of her body, and I couldn't move. My body was frozen. I couldn't move.

Her fingers were in my hands, and she was taking control of them. Her hands were in control of my hands. I wanted to move them, but I couldn't move. I could feel her fingertips. They were on my collarbone, and I could feel her breathing. She was breathing so close to me that I could smell her. It was the scent of my own body on hers, and I was breathing in my scent. She was breathing me in. She could feel me breathe, and I was feeling her breathing. She was feeling it. Her eyes were closed, and I could feel my eyes closed. I didn't have eyes, but I could feel my eyes closed, and I could feel my hands moving. She was moving, and she was pulling me in. I could feel my fingers moving, and I was pulling her close. She had taken control of my body, and she was doing things to me. She was making me hot. I could feel my hands move around her, on her, and I started to move my body into her, into her warmth. My body was on hers, and I could feel her hands on my body. I moved my body further into hers.

Things progressed further, getting more adulterous and risqué. She pushed me down, and before I knew it, I was down on the ground, in the dirt, with her on top of me. She was completely in control of me, and I was merely along for the ride. She removed my pants and pulled them down along with my boxers, and there I was. The smile was back on her lips, and my arms were above my head; I had no strength in them. I was powerless in this situation. She looked down on me - I felt myself being violated.

She didn't push me. She didn't force me. She just laid on me, and she ripped at my boxers. She pulled them down, exposing me to her cold face. She kissed the scar on my thigh and then the one on my hip.

She pulled my boxers down even further and exposed my dick. She could see it. She could see me. She could smell me. She could taste me. She could feel me. She was pushing her face onto my cock, and she was pressing it into the ground. My cock was out in the open, exposed. She could see it. She could smell it. She could taste it. She could feel it. She pressed down on it. She was straddling me, on top of me, with my cock in her mouth, in her throat. She was straddling my hips. She was in control. She had me. She had control.

I didn't move. I was numb. I felt nothing. I felt nothing. My hands didn't move. My legs didn't move. My body was telling no as I was a passive bystander in this horrific moment. I wanted to move, but I was held down by my own body. I was supposed to be her object; I was supposed to be her plaything. I was watching her take my power away.

She bit down on my penis, gnawing away, tearing the veins, the skin, making me bleed. She sucked on my shaft, and I wanted to pull my cock back, wanting to put my hand over it to make her stop, wanting to push it out of her mouth, wanting to stop her, but she lashed her mouth about - Teeth digging inwards, shredding blood vessels like a paper shredder, holding me down so I wouldn't move - Wouldn't scream. Now my heart was pounding in my chest. I was doing something - I was giving her permission to do something.

She drew my blood, one bead at a time. She took her time. She grabbed my testicles and tore at them. She dug her fingernails into them and yanked them with her grip. I couldn't do anything to stop her. I didn't have strength in my hands. She squeezed my balls, and I felt myself starting to piss on the ground.

She let my penis go, and I thought that would be it. I was still acting. I was still rationalizing. I was trying to tell myself I was still in control. But now that my dick was gone, there was nothing left. She looked down at my dick, and she licked it clean. I didn't even know what she was doing, why she was doing it. But then she continued, and licked me all over. Her tongue moved up and down my shaft. She brought her fingers in and pulled them up to my dick. She licked them clean, then she ate them.

The pain was unbearable, and with each lick; it sent a jolt of pain like a lightning bolt through my body. I was bleeding out - But she needed to die before I did. She licked me all over again, and licked my balls, too. I wanted to cry out, to scream, to kill her. I wanted to do something. But there was nothing.

The pain became so intense that I vomited. It happened in slow motion. I could hear the pain ripping through my body, see myself writhe in agony, but I couldn't scream or move. Chunks of human meat spewed out of my face, and out of my mouth. It looked like something out of a horror movie - blood and shit flying everywhere. I was coughing up my own brains.

My eyes watered from the pain, and I was whimpering like a little boy who just lost his toy. I was begging her to stop, to let me go, but she just kept licking me and licking me, biting my cock and balls, licking me until I felt like I was going to die. I felt around for something, anything. It was there I felt something hard, a rock. I held it in my fist, thinking about how I could shove it into her stomach. Or maybe I could bite it, and knock her out. But I didn't know how I would do it. I didn't have time to do anything - I was currently being mutilated after all. But I swung, and with a hard thunk, the rock went right into her mouth.

She let out a surprised screech, and pulled her hand out of my cock. She fell back onto the floor, and I thought that was the end. I got on top of her and bashed the rock repeatedly against her head.

She kept trying to crawl towards safety but I kept hitting her with it. Each blow seemed to only make her stronger, and more obstinate. The last time I hit her, she was knocked out. I rolled off of her and laid there on the floor, panting, trying to regain control of myself. When I got back to my feet, she was still unconscious. I didn't want to leave her there like that, so I smashed her head in until it was mush.

I need to find some medicine.