The room is vast. Beyond vast. Even a full-out sprint it would take me two minutes to cross its length, maybe a bit less if something was chasing me. Not that there would be any chance of reaching the shelter of my little hole in the wall if there were. I would be caught well before that.

I have hidden myself behind the leg of a stool. It might not be the best choice, but it is not far from shelter, and being wider than I am it provides decent enough cover. It only has to serve its purpose for a few seconds, though, just long enough for...

The great door swings open. A towering silhouette fills the doorway as he steps through. He undresses, casual, unhurried, laying his clothing neatly in its place before pausing. His head turns slowly. His nostrils flare. I am invisible to him yet still he knows that I am here, somewhere. He turns his head in the direction of a shape that he recognizes, one that resembles himself in all ways save for size. He smirks -- this is far too easy. In three long strides he closes the gap and reaches down to poke a claw at the cowering prey. It does not budge though. Curious, he pokes harder. To his surprise it clatters and a few pieces of straw fall from its hastily-stuffed interior.

He has discovered the ruse and bellows with rage. His voice does not register to ears as small as mine but I can feel his outrage through every bone as it reverberates within me. It is the opportunity I was waiting for and I dart from cover as behind me he sweeps up the decoy and crushes it in his fist. It is both a demonstration of his immeasurable strength and a reminder that he knows how to use it. I keep running until he drops the mess and shakes a few fragments from his fingers. He freezes in place, and so do I.

The hunt is back on. I crouch, waiting for my next chance. His heard turns, tilts, turns the other way. His tongue pokes forth and tastes the air. I do not move. I do not breathe.

Another quiver within my bones as he growls, or perhaps he is taunting me. I do not respond. Seconds pass before he raises a mammoth foot and brings it crashing down to the floor. It lands with a resounding clap and a shock that wobbles my legs. The intent is to frighten me, cause me to leap in a panic. I leap, but not in a panic. The crash of his foot hides my own footfalls as I race a few yards before throwing myself down flat.

He listens, growling again. His next step is more careful, but still noisy enough to let me scurry forward on all fours until the echoes die away. He turns away. The tip of his tail flicks, flicks, flicks in agitation. He takes another step, and I scurry and stop. Then another step. I scurry and stop.

I am close to the hole now. He has his back to me. I can make it, I think. I wait for his next step and then jump to my feet and charge, but at that very moment everything goes black. The floor beneath me shudders and my ears ring as he stomps his foot again. I stagger from the blow, almost falling down, and I realize with dread that I no longer know in which direction salvation lies. The room is dark, all light extinguished. Deliberately.

The thud of a footstep startles me. It is uncomfortably close. I do not dare to move. Then another lands, closer still. He is coming. He must know where I am. Another deafening clap, the concussion staggering me. He wants me to run. I will not give him that satisfaction. Instead, I drop to all fours and begin to crawl as fast as I can, now and then sweeping a hand out in front of my face. The hole was in this direction. I am sure of it. It can't be far.

Shit!

I scramble to my feet, try to backpedal, but right away I feel the squeeze of two fingers against my torso and the floor drops away. I flail at first. I scream. I pound at those fingers with my fists until I sense that I am high enough that the fall would surely be fatal. There is no point in fighting now. I am caught. I am at his mercy.

The cool air that rushes past in the ascent is replaced by warm gusts and the scent of his breath. I swing a fist in hopes of connecting with his nose but fail. I shout but am quickly silenced as warm, wet flesh slaps against me, an acre of tongue dragging from my toes to my ears and leaving me sodden and dripping. The warm breath is replaced by a cool rush as I descend.

Suddenly, dazzlingly, the light returns. He does not need it. He wants me to see what is coming. It is impossible not to. It towers over me, terrible in its enormity, magnificent in its symmetry, fully hard from the thrill of a successful hunt. I squirm in desperation as my body meets that enormous spire and is squeezed against it by an insistent fist.

A coat of thick saliva spares me from being torn apart by the friction as he drags me to the tip, then down to the base, then back, again and again, stroking me over and over along the entirety of his length until warm syrup trickles down and wets my face. I can feel the throb of his heart against me. I feel it steadily quickening as high above his breath at first puffs like a summer breeze, then like a storm, then a hurricane. The world without becomes a blur as I am scrubbed faster and faster, until I have to close my eyes to fight the vertigo. His fingers clench harder. I know what that portends and brace myself. I feel a rush from my feet to my face and a burst of his pleasure spews forth barely an inch above my brow. His satisfaction with the outcome of the hunt is made clear by the number of blasts that erupt before the dizzying ride ceases and his chin falls to his chest and his powerful grip relaxes enough that I can breathe again.

After a while he drags me up and over the tip, smearing my face and chest with the remnants of his victory. I stay very, very still as he examines me with his finger and discovers that whereas he has finished, I have not, and for that defiance I clearly must be punished. He reaches for me and although I kick with all my might, nothing can stop my legs from being pressed together and hoisted up, my head dropping down and arms spinning helplessly in the air. I am hauled ceilingwards. Below me his tongue slithers over his lips in anticipation, and then his jaws open. His maw gapes wide, his teeth an ivory fence surrounding his tongue, and it is squarely upon that tongue that I land with a bounce. There is a loud snap and I am plunged into darkness.

I still have some fight in me, though. I am determined not to make it easy for him and I wriggle like mad, pushing my hands down into the surface of that tongue and shoving my back hard against his palate. In retaliation the tongue rears up, squeezing me against those ridges harder and harder until the breath is driven from my lungs and I can fight no longer. My limbs relax and I signal my surrender with a feeble lick back against the tongue that is smothering me.

My skeleton hums as he gloats. The tip of his tongue nudges upward, shoving my legs to the sides until my feet reach past his teeth. It folds around me, the tip pressing against my shoulderblades, my entire torso engulfed in its warmth. Then slowly, relentlessly, it begins its cruel work, swishing, stroking, caressing, surrounding my most tender flesh with wet warmth, suckling upon me like a tiny morsel of living candy, driving me at length to the brink, but here it stops! My body screams at the same time I do, begging him to finish, or if not then to swallow me, to crunch me up, anything to stop the torment! He chuckles and relents, his tongue rippling about me, and immediately the last of my physical strength rushes from my throat in a strangled cry.

My body is limp and lifeless as it slithers between his lips and flops into his palm. I can barely muster enough strength to wipe the saliva from my face. The look in his sightless eyes above me is one of infuriating smugness. Had I any energy left I would have kicked his nose so hard.

The hollow of his shoulder is warm and my body fits perfectly into it, nestled beside his thick and corded neck. It is a long moment before I am able to sit up, and a longer moment before I can catch enough breath to be able to speak.

"So...what's for dinner?"

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