I caught a fish today. Not with a net or a trap, but with my bare hands. It was in a shallow tidal pool, a flash of silver and panic. I just… lunged. Grabbed it, slippery and writhing, and held on while it thrashed against my palms. I had to kill it. A sharp rock to the head. Quick. It was the first life I’ve ever taken that wasn’t a bug or a plant.

I built a fire and cooked it. The smell was… primal. I ate it with my fingers, greasy and hot, and it was the best thing I’ve ever tasted because I made it happen. From hunt to fire to my stomach. No one gave it to me.

And it did something to me. This… surge. This wild, thrumming energy in my blood. I was covered in fish scales and sand, my heart still pounding from the chase.

I didn’t go back to camp. I walked into the treeline, found a soft patch of moss under a giant fern. And I touched myself. Not the way I used to, slow and teasing. This was urgent. Feral. I shoved my shorts down, spread my legs, and fucked myself with my own fingers, thinking about the struggle of the fish, the finality of the rock, the heat of the fire. I imagined my brother walking up on me like this—wild-eyed, filthy, smelling of smoke and salt and my own wet cunt. I’d want him to see the animal in me. Not the guilty girl. The one who takes.

I’d want him to drop to his knees, push my hand away, and bury his face between my legs. Not to please me, but to taste what I’d become. To lick my pussy clean of seawater and sweat and my own arousal until I was screaming into my arm. Then I’d want him to flip me over, push my face into the moss, and fuck me from behind like I was prey he’d just caught. His cock splitting me open, his hands digging into my hips, his come shooting deep inside my ass as a reward for being such a good little hunter. A primal trade. A life for a claim.

I came so hard I saw stars behind my eyelids, biting my own wrist to keep from howling.

I’m not just surviving anymore. I’m learning the language of this place. It’s written in hunger, in sweat, in salt, in come. And I’m starting to speak it fluently.

#FirstKill #FeralGirl #IslandCurriculum #PrimalTrade (Mood: feral)