A Mom s Instinct For Survival
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Fighting For Survival free porn video
Disclaimer: This story is a complete work of fiction. It does not depict any actual person or events. There are elements of stalking, rape, and violence. If any of those elements disturb you, please navigate away from this page. I do not condone the acts in this story in any way. It was born from a dream that I couldn’t get out of my head and bloomed into the somewhat lengthy but intense story you find below.
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In. Out. In. Out. My breath is steady and rhythmic. My feet are pounding on the pavement. My mind is only focused on the next step and the next piece of trail. Music is playing in my ears but I no long hear the words. It has become part of my body blending with my breath and heartbeat. I’m in the zone. This is when my problems disappear and I become one with the path. I’m alone out here and the world appears quiet and peaceful. There’s nothing better than this and makes running at 6 am worth the struggle to climb out of bed.
Three miles into my run I come around a bend and I’m surprised to see another soul out running this early. I only see him for a brief moment but it seems like he’s not running as much as he could be. Not totally normal but not completely weird either. Maybe he’s pacing himself. He glances my way but I quickly pass him and forget he even existed. Moments later I’m back in my zone and pushing up a small hill. I don’t see another person for the next two miles and I’m gearing up for my final stretch.
Suddenly the back of my head explodes in pain. I see the ground coming up to meet me and then nothing but blackness.
I hear rustling and clicks. I feel cold air over my stomach and chest but don’t understand why. Then I feel the pain. It floods through my body and all I can focus on is my head. Why? What happened? I remember running and then feeling intense pain but from what, I don’t know. I hear myself groan in pain and the rustling and clicks stop. I have to force my eyes open and everything is blurry. After blinking several times my vision slightly clears and I see trees high above me and bits of sky showing through. That’s when I notice I’m on the ground and feel the coolness of the dirt and leaves. Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion and simple thoughts are difficult to complete. I hear a single click again but I still can’t figure out what it is. Then I hear a man’s voice tell me not to move. Someone must be here to help. Thank goodness!
I fight to turn my head towards his voice but I don’t understand what I see. There’s a man standing over me holding something and the look on his face is strange. It’s not concern but I can’t put a name to it. I recognize his face but I can’t place him. I hear a click again and realize what he’s holding is a camera and the click I hear is him taking a picture. What? I don’t understand. Why would he be taking pictures when I need help? I ask him to help me sit up but he doesn’t move. More clicks sound as he rapidly takes more pictures. Fear is starting to fill me and I desperately try to sit up. As I reach around to get leverage on the ground I feel my arm against my stomach and feel skin to skin contact. I quickly look down and I’m naked. The abrupt movement makes my head spin and my stomach roll threatening to empty its contents. I’m in a panic. Who is this man? Where the hell are my clothes? What is he doing? Oh my god I’m going to be sick!
I barely get my head turned in time to vomit onto the colored leaves and hear him mumble the word perfect as more pictures fire off. I roll my body onto my side and eventually onto my stomach trying to shield myself. I start begging for him to leave me alone and feel hot tears fall down my cheeks. My voice gets stronger as my fear builds and I begin screaming at him to go away and then my screams turn into high pitched calls for help. At first my panic seems to excite him and his camera continues to capture my naked image. But when I begin to scream for help he quickly morphs into something new. His face contorts with anger and the camera stops.
When I reach my loudest scream yet I feel a hard kick in my ribs. He growls at me, ‘Shut the fuck up!’ I’m shaking with fear and pain. My body doesn’t know what to feel more. My head is throbbing, my stomach is rolling, and now my ribs are sending shooting stabs of pain through my body. The overwhelming thing I feel is fear. He might kill me. He starts stroking my hair telling me to stay still and quiet and I’ll be safe. I recoil from his touch and he repeats his kick into my ribs. I cry out in pain and he tells me to shut up again. I comply. What else can I do? I can’t even sit up never mind get up and run. I just stay still on the ground lying on my stomach and shielding my face to block out the horror of this situation.
The camera resumes it’s clicking and I hear him moaning in approval. When the camera stops I think this may finally be over but he hasn’t left yet. I hear more moaning. I don’t know why I look but I immediately regret it when I do. He’s standing over me with his penis in his hand stroking himself. No. Please no. I hide my face once more and cry into the leaves. I try to keep it as quiet as possible. I start to picture my family. My Mom and Dad’s face slide into my mind and my sister soon follows. I cry more. My boyfriend’s image fills my head and I try to lose myself in my favorite memories of us together. We’ve been together for a year now and I want more time with him. I try to take myself away to our vacation from a few months ago. In my mind I’m back on the beach in Florida bathing in the sun. I will myself to be there to feel the warmth of the sun on my skin again. I want to smell the salty ocean and hear the waves crashing onto the sand.
Heartbreakingly, I’m ripped back to the present when I feel him kneel next to me and his knees push into my side. His moans are louder now and I can feel the movement of his body as his hand continues to pump. I try to move away but that only makes him hold me down with his free hand. I cringe at his touch but I have nowhere to go. Seconds later he climaxes and his hot fluids land on my back and ass. He continues to milk himself and seems to aiming mostly for my behind. I freeze as soon as it touches my skin and stay still through to the finish. When he’s done he quickly stands and fixes his clothing. I don’t look but hear the rustling of fabric. He stays still and silent for a moment or two before taking a few more pictures. I hear four clicks. Then he strokes my hair again and actually dares to thank me. I hear him start to move away before he says, ‘your clothes are to your right by the tree.’ Then he’s gone.
I stay in that position until I’m sure he’s gone and confirm it by looking around. That’s when the sobbing begins and I pour all the pain and humiliation into each painful sob. Through my tears I slowly manage to move into a sitting position before vomiting again. I’m pretty sure I have a concussion and based on the pain in my ribs with each movement something is definitely wrong there too. It takes me a moment to get my eyes to focus before finding my workout clothes at the base of the tree just out of reach. I stare at them in confusion. He folded them. My capris are carefully folded with my shirt and sports bra placed on top. My sneakers are placed just beside the pile with my socks laid across them. I don’t see my panties. The thought makes me vomit again and I continue to cry.
I finally get myself together enough to crawl towards my clothing and pull my shirt over my head. I just want to be covered. I’m shivering in the fall breeze but my main motivation is to no longer be exposed. It takes me a while to slide my capris on and I shove my feet into my shoes. I don’t bother with the sports bra or socks but keep them in my hand as I use the tree as support to get into a standing position. My head swims again and I grip onto the tree to keep
from falling to the ground. I might not be able to pull myself up again if I go down. I’m surrounded by trees and have no idea where the path is. I wish I had my phone but I left it in my car in the parking lot, wherever that is. I find my mp3 player and ear buds in the small back pocket of my capris but that can’t help me at all. I just have to walk. Every step is pain and I have to stop to dry heave several times. The trees are the only thing keeping me from being a pile on the ground. I have no idea what time it is now but the sun is definitely higher in the sky.
After I don’t know how long I find one of the paths in the park and sit down on the side. I’m done. I can’t walk any further and I’m forced to wait for someone to find me. The tears start again but I’m pretty sure I’ve gone emotionally numb. I don’t have to wait long though. Soon a man and woman appear at the top of a hill on two bikes and stop in front of me. When they ask me if I’m ok I tell them someone attacked me. Then I don’t say another word. I think I’ve checked out.
A million things happen around me. The man gets on his cell and calls 911. The woman sits beside me and offers me her bottle of water. I take small sips. She tries asking me what happened and if I’m injured. I just point to my head and ribs but say nothing. Eventually she gives up and just tells me I’m going to be ok and sits beside me to wait. The man tries to ask me for my information to give to the person on the phone but I offer nothing. Is this is what shock is? I just can’t bring myself to speak and share the humiliation that has taken place with these seemingly nice people.
Sometime later I hear a noise approaching and two golf carts come into view. They are packed with people. I see a park official driving each cart but the rest of the seats are filled with paramedics and police officers. They look uncomfortable with all the gear on their laps being cramped onto the small vehicles. Anything larger would never fit on these paths. I’m checked over and coaxed to speak to one very nice looking female paramedic. I tell her my name is Alison and point out where I’m hurt. She shines a light in my eyes and looks at my head and ribs. Before long they have me wrapped in a blanket and someone is pressing something onto the back of my head and slowly moving me towards one of the carts. The couple who helped me are now off to the side speaking to an officer and watching me with a sad expressions. I quickly look away.
An ambulance is waiting for me at the mouth of the path and a crowd has gathered in the parking lot to see what is the commotion is. I spot my car and point it out to a nearby officer. I tell him my phone is inside and he needs to call my boyfriend. He’ll be worried I didn’t return to my apartment where he had spent the night. I give the officer the band that holds my key from my wrist and he disappears from view. I’m soon loaded onto a stretcher and into the ambulance. An officer joins me along with a paramedic and questions me the entire trip to the hospital. I answer as best I can but I feel like I have nothing. I describe the guy as much possible but can give only a horrible guess of his height of at around six feet. I describe the rest of him as fit and muscular, dark short brown hair and dark eyes. I tell the officer about his clothes but they were only a light gray t-shirt and black shorts. I saw no tattoos, no piercings, or anything else to make him distinguishable. By the time we reach the emergency room the officer looks disappointed in my lack of information and leaves me in the hands of the doctors where the humiliation continues with their examinations, probing questions, and saddened stares.
-Three weeks later-
I’m sitting on my balcony wrapped up in a heavy blanket sipping tea. My Mom is inside my apartment trying to pretend like everything is totally normal while cleaning like a mad woman. My apartment couldn’t be any cleaner as this has been her regular routine since I’ve been home from the hospital. She’s here almost every day now vacuuming, dusting, polishing, and moping. I’m hiding on the balcony trying to avoid her overly peppy forced conversations.
According to my doctors I’m doing really well. When I was admitted to the hospital I had a concussion and needed stiches in my head. They said I was hit over the head with a relatively heavy object and required ten stiches to close the wound. I also had four bruised ribs and one fractured rib on my right side from the kicks. My face, arms, and hands had some scrapes and cuts presumably from my fall after being knocked out but I had no other injuries. Based on their exam they concluded I was not raped and the only fluid on my body was the mess on my back when he masturbated over me. I spent one night in the hospital before being released with some pain medication and a recommendation to see a therapist.
The police were quite excited about the fluids sample at first but it resulted in zero matches and soon became just as useless as the dirt and leaves found in my hair. The sketch artist produced an image after working with me for hours at the station but it honestly looks like it could be any young American guy. My description was light on the details and I still berate myself for not paying closer attention to his face. He never covered my eyes and I should have soaked in every detail. Instead, I just hid. I couldn’t face the situation and now because of that, the police have very little to go on. No witnesses have come forward and no evidence has led anywhere. So after three weeks the only progress has been in my physical healing. Emotionally and mentally however, is a completely different story. I think that’s why Mom is here trying to clean away what happened. She’s worried but doesn’t know what to do. When she’s not here my sister is and my boyfriend has to fight both of them for access to me. I’d honestly prefer to have no one here. I don’t want to talk about what happened with them anymore seeing their pity and treating me like I’m made of glass just pisses me off. So here I am, sitting outside in the chilled air staring off into nothingness.
I returned to work after taking two weeks off and it has been the most awkward experience. People at work know something is wrong but most of them don’t know the details. Only one friend from the office knows and she has thankfully kept it quiet. The awkward part is they can tell I’m different and they don’t know what to do with me. I’m angry and cold all the time and I have no patience for anyone or anything. Thankfully I don’t work with customers at work and I’m able to stay in my office working on my computer. I can lose myself in my work but I hate being there. I rarely go out in public besides work. I’m always afraid I’ll run into him. I haven’t been for a run outside since the incident and avoid interaction as much as possible.
After hours spent outside I finally make my way in and find my Mom rearranging a shelf on my entertainment center. When she sees me she gives a cheerful smile and tells me a package has been delivered as if it should make me jump with joy. She hands me a small box and waits for me to open it. I assume she must have ordered me something until she says she’s happy I decided to shop for myself. I tell her I haven’t bought anything but she just smiles and says that maybe it’s from my boyfriend, Shawn. I give in and cut it open. The first thing I see is pink tissue paper. When I lift it out of the way I find what looks like a small book with a fabric cover. I pull it out and flip open the cover and freeze. It’s not a book but a photo album and the first page has a photo of me and I’m naked. I drop the book on the floor and back away. My Mom looks confused at my reaction until she looks down where the book has opened to a different page that shows a closer shot of my naked chest and face. I’m shaking and now pressed against my living room wall. This can’t be happening. Please don’t let this be happening! I hear a scream and realize it’s me. I’m screami
ng and sliding down the wall. My Mom is in front of me just as I black out.
When I come to, my Mom is holding me on the floor and she’s crying. I’m wrapped in her arms with my head against her chest and I feel like a child but I don’t want her to let go. I grip onto her and cry. She shushes me and strokes my hair. I rip away from her and retch at the feel of a hand stroking my hair. It brings me back to that day and I feel his touch. My Mom looks heartbroken but nods as if she understands. I run to my bathroom and lock the door behind me. I squeeze myself between the toilet and tub trying to make myself as small as possible. I want to disappear.
A little later I hear a soft knock at the door and my Mom’s voice tells me the police are here. When I come out there are four officers in the living room and one is wearing gloves inspecting the photo album and box. Just what I need, more humiliation. I sit through an interview at my dining room table but I know nothing about this box. They tell me that I shouldn’t have touched it or opened but how was I supposed to know what it was? They grill my Mom about the delivery but she didn’t see anyone. She found it outside the door when getting the mail and assumed it had been dropped off by UPS like the label said. After what seems like hours later they finally leave with the box and album and I’m once again left feeling violated and disturbed.
A couple days later I’m at the station for a meeting with the detective on my case. He begins by apologizing for asking me to come in but that they have important things to go over with me. He tells me that the box wasn’t shipped through UPS like the label implied. The label was fake and the box had to of been hand delivered. Once again no one saw anything and like most apartment complexes the buildings do not have cameras. The only prints found on the box and album belonged to me and my Mom and there were none on the pictures themselves. The photos were not developed anywhere they could trace which I wasn’t even aware they could do. The detective tells me they believe the photos were developed privately, most likely by the suspect himself. My mind is reeling. They have nothing again. Pictures are hand delivered and they still have absolutely nothing! The detective has to say my name several times to get my attention before I realize he had still been talking. I ask for a break and go out into the waiting room where I find my parents waiting anxiously.
They wait in silence as I sit across from them. They want to know what happened in there but it takes several minutes before anyone speaks. My Dad is the first one to break the silence, ‘What did they say, Ali?’ I shake my head but he asks again and I give in. I explain what the detective said and slump into my chair when I’m finished. My Dad is shaking with anger. He begins pacing the room. My Mom and I sit in silence watching him. When the detective walks into the room a few minutes later my Dad erupts in anger at him, ‘You! I want to know why you people don’t have a fucking clue who this guy is! He hand delivers you evidence and you still know nothing! How does he know her address? Tell me how! He was there! He was outside the door while my DAUGHTER and my WIFE were inside and you sit around here with your thumbs up your asses not doing a goddamn thing about it!’ He’s panting by the time he finishes and although you can see he’s still angry he has nothing left. We’re all drained by this entire experience.
To the detective’s credit he took everything my Dad threw at him and stayed calm. He calmly explains that they are doing everything they can but this guy is careful and covering all his tracks. He leaves no prints and clearly looks non-threatening because people do not see his presences as strange. His DNA resulted in no matches which means he’s not in the system. In a nutshell he’s good at what he does and knows it. Very reassuring isn’t it?
Madison
- 26.06.2021
- 13
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