Deryk lay sleeping and recovering beside me, his naked body still blotched and scarred from his traumatic encounter. As he did so, I picked over his shorts, partly to check that there were no bits of Man-o’-War left on them but also to go through his pockets. I was curious.

In one pocket, I found an old leather wallet, still damp and stained from being in the sea. In it were no credit cards – nothing as easy as that – just a few matted dollar notes (dollar notes are washable by the way – always useful to know!) and a room key-card for a hotel in Bermuda I hadn’t heard of.

The wallet was old and worn, almost antique, with an embossed Celtic pattern around the edges of it. A Celtic pattern. It was surely no coincidence that the talisman he had given me also looked Celtic in origin. But when I looked more closely, into the back of the wallet, in very small letters, was impressed what looked like a name. It read, “D.W.E. Fowler”. I don’t know what name I expected to see but this one meant nothing to me and I puzzled over it. The “D” could be “Deryk” alright but was that even his real name – or was the wallet just a coincidence? Maybe it was just an antique wallet he got somewhere else?

But I was tired and the warm breeze mixed with the quiet lapping of the sea on the beach and the softness of the sand made me sleepy. I lay back beside a sleeping Deryk, turning over the events of the day and watched the ever-changing cloud formations, moving slowly across the blue sky above me.

I awoke with a jolt and sat upright. The sun had gone down and the wind had changed. It was mid-September and it was about 7pm, so it was getting dark and the face of the full moon was just above the horizon in the north-east. The tide was also higher up the beach and without climbing gear, I was now cut-off from the next beach and the nearest road. Deryk was gone, of course, and there was no sign of his clothes; his blue designer shorts, his nautical striped Diesel briefs and his “X”-Men T-shirt, the wallet, were all gone. This was just what happened last time, and the time before, but a chill now ran up and down my back as I remembered what happened next on both those occasions.

As I sat there, gathering my thoughts and trying to decide what to do next, I noticed the twinkling lights of a boat out on the water. In fact, it was a launch and it looked very much like the one that Deryk had been thrown from earlier that afternoon. This time though, all was quiet and it was motionless – or just drifting. Perhaps they had relented and come back looking for him; or maybe it was someone else just night-fishing.

But it was getting chilly. I pulled on my briefs and stood up to put on my shorts and it was then that I heard a noise, a new sound. It sounded like splish-splashing in the water but not like the sound of the waves; it was something, or someone else. I looked around nervously and over at the end of the beach, I caught a glimpse of what looked like a large dog, at first jogging along the water’s edge, then climbing up onto the jagged coral rocks. Whatever it was, it was big; the size of a man but not a man; or was it?

As I stood silently rooted to the spot, “the creature” or whatever it was, climbed to the top of the rocky headland and stood semi-erect, its shape silhouetted against the full moon. Gazing up into the sky, it let out a chilling howl, which seemed to echo along the beach and off the opposite headland.

I didn’t know what to do but as I moved to put one leg into my shorts, a breeze rustled through the cedar trees high above the beach and the figure’s head turned toward me and I staggered, as two piercing orange eyes glared right at me. Quick as a flash, the creature leapt from the top of the rocks onto the beach and bounded straight at me.

As I fell awkwardly back onto the sand with one leg inside my shorts, the creature was upon me and in my face, baring teeth the likes of which I had never seen before and growling menacingly, its saliva dripping onto my bare chest, as I struggled to sit upright. Those piercing orange eyes were set in a face – a deformed and hairy, but nonetheless human face – one that I recognized.

“Someone’s been going through my things,” Deryk growled menacingly, as he pushed me back onto the sand with a heavy, hairy hand.

“I, er, was curious – you know,” I stumbled, “I just needed to know more about you.”

“You know all you need to know,” he said, gruffly. Then he snarled, “Work it out for yourself.” But he hadn’t finished. Sniffing my chest and face, he then added threateningly, “You took advantage of me. Now it’s my turn.”

He pushed me down with his full weight in both hands, both “paws”, on my chest and his nails dug into my skin. Remembering how things turned out on the last two occasions, I confess that part of me was excited by him but the other part of me, the rational part, was afraid of what was happening to him – and what he might do to me. There was something about him that, while I still recognized him, was different from previous times. He had suddenly turned violent before, it’s true, but I had not been so aware of the animal that was before me now. This time, it was as if this deformity that took him over was worse, more developed, than before. This time, he was hairier – all over; and more grotesque. His hands, indeed all his limbs seemed bent out of shape and he was more like an animal than ever before. Even so, I tried to reason with him.

“Please,” I pleaded, “If you ARE my brother, you don’t want to hurt me, surely? I saved you, remember? From the Man o’ War.”

He grunted, his hot breath hitting my face. “Perhaps this is what you really want from me,” he seethed, “or at least, no less than you deserve!”

As he stood astride me, his rough strong hands digging into my chest, I looked down between his back legs and knew what was inevitable. He was as near to “on heat” as you could imagine. His cock was protruding obscenely between his legs, curving long, pink and erect from a scrotum that was somewhere, buried in the forest of hairs filling his groin and which spread up and down his thighs and over his body. Gone was the beautiful face with dimples and seductive eyes; no longer the young, tempting body but that of a vicious beast was now over me, dripping saliva and breathing a hot stale breath in my face. I considered struggling but what was the point? I had nowhere to run to while the tide was up and he would easily catch me anyway. I had no way of incapacitating him either. Even kicking him in the balls would probably have just made him angrier.

But I had no chance to do anything anyway. Before I knew what was happening, his back leg seemed to reach up towards my groin and, in one rough move, the claws of his foot grabbed the waist of my briefs and ripped them from my body, yanking my backside off the ground, only to fall back again with a thump as my briefs vanished into the night. I still had one leg awkwardly trapped inside my shorts but I was otherwise exposed, my nakedness vulnerable and powerless. He flipped me over with a swipe of one hand and sand sprayed everywhere as he grabbed my waist and yanked me up onto my knees and towards his groin.

And then I felt his hairy, sweaty body astride my buttocks and that weapon between my thighs, lifting my own shrivelled cock and balls with his tool, rigid and curving beneath my body and cupping my testicles, as he crouched astride behind me, my arse clasped between his powerful deformed thighs. For just a moment, he seemed to pull away but I knew that he was just lining-up for his brutal attack. True enough, I felt the wetness of his dripping organ against my perineum a second before he thrust forward with a grunt and pierced my sphincter like a sword, entering me in one lunge.

Pain exploded from my insides, through my body and seemed to burst from the top of my chest, as I let out a cry, a scream almost. But that wasn’t enough for him. He pulled out, only to ram himself home again in another lunge forward into my body.

“Argh!” he grunted, and withdrew again, only to pierce me once again.

I would have fallen forward under the power of his thrusts and the weight of his body hitting my buttocks, but for his hands, his “claws”, either side of my waist holding me firm in front of him.

“Now, Bitch!” he spat into the back of my neck. His gruff, growling voice now took on a vicious irony, “This is where you get what’s coming to you!”

The tears welled-up in my eyes as the sweat poured from my body in the cool night air as he kept up his relentless thrusting and ramming into me. All the while, it felt like his penis was getting larger and harder with every thrust and while my own frightened balls had retreated as far inside my body as they could, my limpness was now strangely developing into a semi-erection.

Something else inside me was growing harder too. With each entry, my prostate was being bashed, pressed and generally battered into producing nature’s man-fluid against its will. My insides ached as the pain, at first sharp and piercing, now became a dull, painful throbbing inside the depths of my anus. I cried out in agony as I felt my insides involuntarily clench his tool, as my prostate was violently and forcibly milked. It was like a fire had been lit inside me as the jism began building-up somewhere between my prostate and my cock. And in the midst of this, I felt something wet and warm, dribbling down the insides of my thighs.

Meanwhile, his brutal thrusting had given way to a kind of wriggling and twisting, as his grotesquely deformed manhood, or animalhood, seemed to grow still larger and firmer within me, delving it seemed, ever deeper towards my intestines. When my orgasm came, it was a relief, as my burning insides involuntarily went into spasm, clenching and unclenching his swollen tool, as my semen finally escaped from my body in one long, draw-out, dribbling spurt from my semi-erect tool, onto the sand below. The clenching of my orgasm seemed to throw him over the edge, his tool now embedded and locked into me like that of a dog. He let out a long howl into the night air, as he came into me, the hotness of his semen filling my bruised insides, as gush after gush spurted deep into my body, filling every space, every hidden cavity inside me, until he was fully spent.

As he let go his grasp of my sides, I staggered forward on all-fours, collapsing on the sand, as his still swollen tool was ripped from my rear and I heard him turn and race off down the beach and into the water. I lay there, freed but naked and abused, a burning, throbbing ache in my backside and cum oozing and dribbling from my anus, over my shrunken balls and onto the sand beneath me, mixing with the product of my own feeble orgasm which still dribbled from my shrivelled manhood into the sand.

Exhausted, I just lay there, still naked but for my shorts half on one leg, just as he had raped me. After what must have been an hour or more, I began to feel cold and I slowly roused myself. It was around midnight by my watch and there had been no sign of Deryk returning. Somehow, I knew he wouldn’t. I limped down to the sea and slowly immersed myself in the warm, healing waters, releasing all remaining traces of Deryk’s breeding of me back into the sea.

Having eventually found my way back to my hotel on foot during the night, I awoke next morning in my comfortable bed and it was if last night had been a nightmare. I expected to see scratches on my chest, or at least bruising on my body where he had grabbed me – I certainly felt bruised – but when I examined myself in the bathroom mirror, there was no trace, no visible evidence of his attack. Only my backside ached and I felt like I had been run-over by a truck!

As I got ready for breakfast, I was listening to the local news on the TV and the big story of the morning was the report of an attack on 3 guys in a night-fishing launch out on the lagoon. Witnesses said that while 3 men had taken the boat out, only two brought it back, with the canopy torn, leather seats ripped, a table smashed, and even some of the rails bent out of shape. The Police had been called by the owner and, when questioned, the two men, visibly shaken by the incident and both badly scratched and bruised, had claimed that the three of them had been attacked by a huge wolf-like beast that had appeared out of the sea. The three of them had tried to fight it off but the third man had been lost overboard in the battle and when the monster also dived back into the sea, they had been so traumatized that they had high-tailed it back to the marina without their companion. The Police spokeswoman said, if they did not find the other man alive, the two men would probably be facing a potential murder charge. Enquiries were on-going.

Deryk it seems, as always, had meted out his own justice.