Chapter 2: The Erection That Broke Science
The creature loomed, a mountain of muscled fur and quiet purpose, his earthy scent now thick in the air between them. His enormous erection, still prominent and semi-erect, bobbed gently with his slow, measured breath as he studied May's petrified face, then June's defiant one. He made a soft, rumbling sound deep in his chest, more curious than threatening, and slowly extended one massive, leather-palmed hand towards June's face.
June held her ground, her heart slamming against her ribs, but forced her expression into one of calm observation. "He's... investigating," she whispered to May, her voice tight.
The Sasquatch's finger, thicker than her wrist and surprisingly deft, gently brushed a strand of wind-blown red hair from her cheek. His touch was warm, his dark brown eyes holding a spark of what looked like gentle amusement. He then turned his attention to May, who flinched as he leaned in, sniffing loudly at her hair before grunting, apparently satisfied.
"He likes your shampoo," June managed, the absurdity cutting through her fear.
May let out a shaky, hysterical giggle. "Great. We're about to be eaten by a cryptid with opinions on citrus verbena."
The creature huffed, a sound that might have been a laugh, and then he deliberately pointed a thick finger at June's notepad, then at May's camera, his expression turning inquisitive. He mimed writing, then taking a picture, his gestures surprisingly clear.
"He understands what we were doing," June breathed, awe momentarily overriding terror. "He's communicating. He has humanlike intelligence. This is remarkable."
His curiosity seemed to shift from their tools to their forms, his deep-set brown eyes sweeping over their hairless skin and strange coverings. He leaned in close again, his warm, grassy breath puffing against June’s neck as he sniffed her flannel shirt, then gave the fabric an experimental poke with a blunt, black-nailed finger. He grunted, clearly perplexed by the concept of clothing, and then with a mischievous spark in his eyes, he reached out and gently tweaked the collar of May’s tank top.
“Holy shit, our new friend is getting a little too curious,” May whispered, frozen between terror and a bizarre desire to laugh.
“He’s cataloging,” June replied, her voice thin with forced calm as the massive digit brushed her own collar. A low, questioning chuff escaped him as he carefully tapped the silver pendant around May’s neck. He seemed fascinated by anything that wasn’t flesh, fur, or stone. His exploration continued as he lifted a lock of June’s vibrant red hair, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger before sniffing it, his brow furrowing. Then, with a mischievous glint, he gently tugged her ponytail, letting the hair spring back as he released it, a deep, rolling chuckle vibrating in his chest.
His attention then dropped lower, his head tilting as he stared pointedly at the distinct swell of their chests beneath their shirts, a feature wholly absent on his own muscular torso. With a soft, inquiring rumble, he extended one huge hand and, with surprising delicacy, cupped June’s left breast, giving it a gentle, inquisitive squeeze.
June’s breath hitched as she tried to maintain her scientific detachment in order to stay calm. Her body shook under the warm, overwhelming weight of his palm on her breast. “Oh... Okay” she exhaled, shocked but some how knew he meant them no harm.
He then turned to May, repeating the gesture, his thick fingers molding over the curve of her small breast, his expression one of rapt, fascinated discovery. A wide, genuine smile split his hairy face, revealing strong, flat teeth, and he let out a pleased, humming grunt, clearly delighted by this new sensory information. “Oh my fuck,” May gasped, her brown eyes wide, “Bigfoot is groping our boobs.”
“He’s not groping, he’s comparing anatomy,” June said quickly, her own face flushing as he gave them both another appreciative, slightly firmer squeeze, his smile widening. “He has no mammary tissue. He’s just curious about the physiological differences.” The creature’s excited rumbles deepened, his touch becoming more confidently exploratory.
“Okay, whoa, big guy,” May squeaked, her voice cracking as his large hands fondled her small breasts through her tank top. “His curiosity is getting a little too hands-on for my taste.”
“He’s just mapping the terrain, May. Think of it as a very tactile, very personal field study.” June’s attempt at clinical detachment shattered when he leaned down and nuzzled his broad, warm nose against the valley between her breasts, inhaling deeply with a contented rumble.
A jolt of pure, undiluted shock electrified her system, her skin prickling with a flush that had nothing to do with science, yet her researcher’s mind helplessly cataloged the warmth of his breath through the fabric, the surprising softness of his nose against her sternum.
“Personal enough for you?” May squeaked, her voice pitched high with a wild cocktail of fear and incredulous laughter.
He then pinched the fabric of their shirts between his fingers, grunting in clear disapproval of the barrier. With a playful tug that was more suggestion than force, he plucked at May’s tank top strap, his intelligent eyes flicking between the clothing and their exposed skin.
With a playful tug that was more suggestion than force, he plucked at May’s tank top strap, his intelligent eyes flicking between the clothing and their exposed skin. His attention then shifted to June, his large head tilting as he examined the coarse fabric of her flannel shirt. A single, calloused finger, surprisingly delicate for something that could tear a tree limb in half, traced slowly along the worn collar of her shirt.
He followed the line of the plaid fabric down to the first button, his touch whisper-light. With a curious, inquisitive grunt, he hooked his thick fingertip inside the buttonhole and tugged gently, trying to peer down into the opening it created.
“Uh, June,” May whispered, her voice tight, “your new boyfriend’s trying to sneak a peek.”
“He’s investigating a novel fastening system,” June replied, her breath catching as he gave another insistent, playful tug. “He doesn’t understand cloth as a concept.” The creature’s brown eyes gleamed with mischievous curiosity as he made a soft, questioning sound, his focus entirely on the barrier. “He wants to see... He wants to see our breasts.”
The creature huffed in agreement, his huge fingers still worrying the button on June’s shirt. He pointed emphatically at her chest, then at May’s, and made a clear plucking motion towards their clothing, followed by an encouraging, deep rumble.
“See?” June said, her voice a strained mix of awe and practical resolve. “He’s asking. It’s a clear, non-aggressive request for further study.” Her own heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic counter-rhythm to his calm, expectant stare.
“He is not asking for a goddamn peer review, June!” May hissed, her arms crossing protectively over her chest. “He’s a horny mountain man who just caught us watching him jerk off!”
“Precisely,” June whispered, her green eyes locked on the Sasquatch’s intelligent brown gaze. “And now he’s intrigued by the observers. This is our in to research him further.” She took a steadying breath, her fingers moving to her top button. “This could lead to groundbreaking findings, May. Not only did we just discover a new humanlike species, but this can help further explain evolution.”
May stared, her mouth agape, as June’s trembling fingers undid the first button of her flannel. “You cannot be serious.”
The Sasquatch watched, utterly rapt, a low, pleased hum emanating from his chest as more of June’s freckled skin was revealed. He leaned in, his warm, grassy breath fogging the air between them, his enormous form thrumming with focused curiosity. June, swallowing hard, met his gaze and slowly undid the second button.
The third button gave way under her fumbling fingers, revealing the worn lace edge of her bra. A deep, resonant hum vibrated from the Sasquatch’s chest, a sound of pure fascination that seemed to resonate in June’s own ribs. His enormous head tilted, his intelligent brown eyes blinking slowly as he watched the pale freckled skin appear.
“You’ve officially lost your goddamn mind,” May breathed, her own hands reflexively clutching her camera tighter, as if it were a shield. The creature’s gaze flicked to her, then back to the incremental reveal of June’s flesh, his nostrils flaring as he took in her scent.
June’s heart was a frantic drum against her sternum, but her voice held steady. “He’s not attacking. He’s observing.” She undid the final button, letting the flannel hang open, the cold mountain air pebbling her skin beneath the thin lace. The Sasquatch loomed closer, his warmth displacing the chill.
He reached out, his movements deliberate but not hurried. One leathery, massive fingertip traced the scalloped edge of her bra cup, following the curve where fabric met skin with a touch so light it made her shiver. He grunted softly, a questioning sound, his brow furrowing at this second, more intricate barrier.
“It’s a support garment,” June explained, her voice a dry whisper. “For the… anatomy you found interesting.” His finger hooked under the strap, testing its elasticity with a gentle tug that pulled her forward a half-step.
“He’s gonna pop it like a goddamn rubber band,” May muttered, her fear beginning to morph into a strange, captive awe. The creature then began to tug at the center of her bra with one finger.
The creature began to tug at the center of her bra with one thick finger, a puzzled frustration entering his low grunts as the fabric resisted. His pulls became more insistent, the elastic straining against June’s back with a soft, threatening creak.
It was abundantly clear he wanted the garment to come off. With each impatient tug, his massive brow furrowed deeper, his intelligent eyes fixed on the confounding obstacle.
June placed her own small, freckled hand over his enormous, leathery one, stilling his movement. “Okay, big guy, easy,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady. “I’ve got it. I’ll take it off for you.”
“You will fucking what now?” May choked out, her voice a mixture of horror and stunned disbelief.
“He’s going to shred it, and this is a thirty-five-dollar sports bra,” June replied, her tone pragmatic as she kept her calming hand on his. She maintained eye contact with the Sasquatch, whose rumbling eased into a patient, watchful silence. With her other hand, she reached behind her back, fumbling for the clasp.
Her fingers found the plastic hook and eye, dexterous from a thousand dawns spent dressing quickly in cramped tents. She pinched the clasp, and with a soft snick, it came undone. The tension in the straps immediately released, but June kept the crumpled lace cups pressed against her body, holding the garment in place for one last suspended second.
The Sasquatch watched, utterly still, his warm breath ghosting over her collarbones. His brown eyes were wide, curious, and utterly fixed on the concealed flesh.
June took a sharp, silent breath and let her hands fall to her sides. The bra slipped down her arms, a cascade of grey fabric and beige foam padding, and dropped into the dirt at her feet. The cold mountain air hit her skin, pebbling it instantly.
Her breasts were supple and pale, dotted with constellations of copper freckles that dusted across the gentle swell of each curve. They were full and heavy, swaying slightly with her caught breath, their pink nipples already drawn into tight, puffy peaks from the chill and the intense, unwavering focus of his gaze.
May stared, her camera forgotten at her side. “Oh, holy fuck, June,” she whispered, her voice a mixture of shock and involuntary admiration.
The Sasquatch’s deep brown eyes widened, his broad nostrils flaring as he took in the sight. A low, astonished chuff escaped him, a sound of pure wonder that rumbled from his chest as he leaned in closer, his warm breath washing over her exposed skin. He extended one massive, careful finger, its tip rough and leathery, and with a playful gentleness that belied his size, he gave her left nipple a soft, experimental flick.
A sharp, involuntary gasp shot from June’s lips as the sensation—a jolting mix of cold air, rough skin, and startling intimacy—coursed through her. “That,” she managed, forcing her voice into a shaky but deliberate lecturing tone, “is a nipple.” He processed this, his intelligent eyes flicking from her face to the pink peak now hardened further under his attention. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he cupped both of her breasts in his enormous, warm hands.
The feeling was overwhelming; his palms were shockingly hot and textured, completely enveloping her, the sheer size and gentle pressure both grounding and unnerving. He squeezed gently, his thumbs brushing over her peaked nipples as he examined their weight and softness, a look of rapt fascination on his hairy face. A soft, excited rumble vibrated from his throat as he experimented with the malleable flesh, his touch curiously tender.
His thumbs then found her nipples again, rolling the stiffened peaks between his thumb and forefinger with a curious, precise pressure. “Yeah, those my nipples again,” June clarified, her breath hitching as a deep, unexpected thrum of heat pulsed low in her belly, contradicting her analytical tone.
May watched, her own breath held, as the creature's huge, careful hands explored June with a fascinated reverence that was somehow more intimate than anything she’d expected. A sharp dumbfounded anxiety gripped her as she had a visceral awareness of her own small, concealed body—clenched in her stomach. “Well, he's definitely enjoying his hands-on seminar,” she blurted, her voice drier than the granite beneath her boots as her eyes focused on his once again fully erect penis. “He's getting a real feel for the subject matter."
Hearing her voice, Sasquatch’s large, tufted ears twitched. His hands stilled on June, and his great head slowly turned toward May. His deep, intelligent brown eyes locked onto hers, and the full weight of his focus was like a physical pressure. His gaze was curious, assessing, and utterly unabashed.
His stare lingered on her face for a long moment before drifting deliberately downward, past her septum piercing and the fern tattoos on her neck, to settle on the front of her snug, gray tank top. May's eyes winded in horror and protest. “Oh no! Don't even think about it you big pervert,” she said, her tone a shrill protest laced with panicked laughter. The Sasquatch merely chuffed, a sound of clear amusement and then released June's breasts completely, his massive form turning with a disturbing grace. He took one step toward May, closing the distance she hadn't realized she’d tried to create by leaning back.
His enormous hand reached for the hem of her tank top not with the playful curiosity he’d shown June’s buttons, but with a direct, purposeful intent. He gave a soft, testing tug upward, exposing some of her tone brown belly. The message was unmistakably clear. He wanted to see her breasts, too.
May slapped his hand away, a sharp smack against his leathery hide that did nothing but make him blink. "Back off, you overgrown puppy!" she yelped, scrambling backward until her shoulders hit the jagged rock face. June stepped closer, her voice low and urgent.
"His curiosity is keeping him here, May. The more we keep him engaged the more time we have to observe and research him." The Sasquatch watched this exchange, his head tilting, then he reached for May's shirt again with a insistent tug.
The Sasquatch watched this exchange, his head tilting, then he reached for May's shirt again with an insistent tug. May’s mind raced, a frantic slideshow of award-winning photographs flickering against the undeniable reality of the huge, curious hands now gripping her hem. She saw the covers, the gallery exhibitions, the utter revolution of natural history her lens could capture—if she could just get closer. With a shuddering sigh that deflated her entire petite frame, she muttered, “Fine, you big ol’ pervert.” She batted his hand away once more, but gently this time, her voice thin. “Just a heads-up.” May swallowed, her throat tight. “Mine are a lot smaller.”
He chuffed again, a sound of pure, deep amusement that rumbled from his chest like distant thunder.
He chuffed again, a sound of pure, deep amusement that rumbled from his chest like distant thunder. He made a deliberate, circling motion with his finger pointed at her, then mimed pulling something over his head, his eyebrows raised in a silent, impatient question. With a sharp, resigned breath, she grabbed the hem of her gray tank top and yanked it unceremoniously over her head, mussing her dark curls. Her torso was a slender, athletic map of tight, coffee-brown muscle and nature-themed ink—a twisting vine along her ribs, a soaring owl between her shoulder blades—all barely contained by a simple, black sports bra that strained against her modest, pert breasts. Her arms instinctively crossing over her chest.
"See?” she squeaked, her voice tight. “Told you. Basically decorative.” June, still shirtless and flushed, observed with a sharp, analytical gaze as the Sasquatch’s fingers, impossibly large against May’s petite frame, traced the edge of her bra cups and started to tug at it.
“Alright, alright, you big freak,” May muttered, her voice tight. She reached behind her back, her fingers fumbling with the clasp.
The clasp gave way with a sharp snap. She shrugged the straps down her shoulders, letting the restrictive black fabric fall away into the dirt beside her tank top. The cold air bit instantly at her exposed skin.
Her breasts were small, high, and perfectly shaped, their dark brown areolas wide and peppered with a few faint beauty marks. They were tipped with nipples that were already drawn into tight, defiant points from the chill and the overwhelming scrutiny.
Sasquatch let out a soft, fascinated grunt, his enormous head tilting as he absorbed this new data. He leaned in close, his warm breath washing over her, and gently took one breast into his huge, leathery hand.
It disappeared completely into his grasp, a warm, overwhelming pressure that made her gasp. “Satisfied?” she squeaked, her face burning.
His thumb, rough as tree bark and startlingly warm, swept over her taut nipple, the sheer scale of his hand making her feel doll-sized. A shiver that wasn’t entirely from the cold skittered down her spine as he compared their textures, his touch curiously deliberate. She was taken a little aback by appreciating the strong but gentle pressure of his hands, a bizarre comfort in their absolute certainty.
He shifted his grasp, molding his palm to her slight curve with a possessiveness that made her breath catch. His other hand came up, cupping her fully, his massive fingers spanning her entire ribcage as he weighed her in his palms. She suddenly felt something poking her stomach, a thick, insistent pressure that hadn’t been there a moment ago.
She looked down and saw his penis, fully erect again and jutting straight out from its thatch of dark fur. “Oh Christ,” she breathed, her eyes wide, “that thing is completely hard again.” It somehow looked even bigger up close, a thick, ruddy column of flesh that strained impressively towards his navel, its broad head glistening. “Jesus, June, look at it.”
June’s gaze followed May’s, her scientific detachment finally cracking into pure, stunned admiration. “Fascinating,” she murmured, her voice hushed. “The rapid re-engorgement suggests a vascular system and psychological arousal response far more efficient than a human’s.” The creature gave a soft, pleased grunt, his thumbs still circling May’s nipples, clearly enjoying both tactile explorations simultaneously.