Jungle Fever

BY : RandomJaz
Category: +G through L > Harvest Moon
Dragon prints: 719
Disclaimer: I do not own Harvest Moon or any of its characters, nor do I profit from this fanfiction.

Originally intending to take a day trip to the jungle to forage, Chelsea wound up getting lost during the oncoming sunset. Scared and in unfamiliar surroundings she found herself slowly beginning to panic. Images of large dangerous predators intruded her thoughts whilst she attempted to navigate back to the jungle entrance bridge.

Overwhelmed she convincing herself the possibility of danger was simply a harsh paranoia, but little did she know a pair of eyes watched her every move from the looming trees. Hastening her pace she walked briskly, picking up speed as the sky darkened. A sudden flash of movement passed in her peripheral vision followed by a heavy thud of weight hitting the ground and she bolted in to a full panicked sprint.

The distinct sound of feet pounding the ground with enormous strength reached Chelsea's ears as she desperately willed her legs to carry her farther in to the dense evening jungle. Adrenaline laced blood rushing through her ears deafened her to the sound of her own thoughts, focusing solely on the approaching threat. Leaves and twigs snapping under her shoes she frantically ran through shrubs, ducking thorny vines.

Taking a sharp turns around trees she attempted to lose her pursuer. Heavy almost animalistic breathing filled the surrounding air as the oncoming threat seemingly lost their footing on the large protruding root. Skin set aflame in fear upon hearing the pursuing danger pick up speed, tears began leaking from her eyes as she began envisioning her inevitable capture.

No longer concerned with dodging miniule shrubs, thorny vines and switches scraped and scratched her soft downy skin as she ran, red droplets slowly oozing from the tender wounds on her face, chest, legs and arms. The blood swirling downwards across the alabaster canvas that was her flesh, it drying against the wind like fresh paint.

She briefly accepted her oncoming death then began to mentally pray for relief but blindly ran in to a low hanging protruding branch. The branch hit her square in the chest, effectively knocking the wind out of her before snapping back and flinging her backwards.

The perimeter of her vision blackened from the drastic drop in adrenaline as she lay there disoriented and dizzy. The night sky's stars shimmered down on here calmingly, almost surreal in Chelsea's altered state. Ears barely registered the sound of leaves rustling near her. Convinced she was going to die, she shut her eyes readying herself for the harsh pain of fangs tearing through her, only to be surprised as a tall shadow was cast over her. Something touched her... they were...fingers?

Dry cracked padded fingertips glided over the skin of her face and she opened her eyes to find an extremely large built man kneeling beside her. His fingertips traced the hollow of her cheekbone, wandering up to the curve of her throbbing temples. As she lost consciousness she felt herself being lifted from the ground and pulled in to a comfortable warmth.

The large man wordlessly held her unconscious form to his broad chest, carrying her off in to the deep dark jungle. Navigating on foot he made his way to a hut built high off the ground. Tossing the petite brunette over his shoulder he climbed up to the hut and entered the small living space. Chelsea's body was limp and lifeless as she slept in her exhaustion induced coma-like state. Setting her down upon a bed of warm furs the jungle man began searching for something amongst his belongings.

Not more than a couple hours later Chelsea awoke to the passing of the midnight hour. The hut was lit by a small fire set in a clay bowl filled with dried grass and sticks, the flame's shadows dancing across the walls. She registered the feeling of soft fur under her palms as she sat up in to a sitting position, becoming startled as a hand reached out and held her bicep. Chelsea whipped her head to the side and lost the ability to produce sound upon realizing whom she was in the presence of.

The large man knelt by her once more, looking down at her. Soft flesh held in his fist, he squeezed lightly. Looking over her, his eyes took on a mildly fascinated stare as he inspected her. Fingers released her arm and began trailing the bloody streaks across her face, moving downwards to her throat, collar bone and eventually cleavage. Too scared to move she unknowingly held her breath as she waited to see what he would do, unknowing if he was savage or not she still feared for her safety. He pulled his hand back and simply stared at her. Moments of silence passed as they held eye contact.

"Shea." his voice broke the silence, deep and firm.

Chelsea thought she had imagined it and made a noise of confusion. Eyes fixed on her expectantly he spoke once more.

"Shea. Me Shea."

Blinking she looked at him in amazement, nearly forgetting to respond.

"I-I...I'm Chelsea" she stammered, still unsure if in any danger.

Shea stared at her face before looking down at her chest. Reaching out he tugged at the hem of her shirt trying to remove it. She resisted what he was doing and panicked in fear of what he would do to her. Shea's face remained impassive as he assertively pulled the shirt from her body, leaving her upper torso bare. He turned and retrieved a bowl with water and cloth in it, showing it to Chelsea.

"Clean wounds." Shea explained.

Chelsea tried to cover her chest but Shea pried her arms away, then pulled the cloth from the bowl of water and wrung it slightly. He pressed the soaked cloth against her ample bosom then started washing away the dried blood and dirt from her tender skin with a surprisingly gentle touch. A large smear would not wipe away so Shea dipped the cloth in the bowl once more but did not wring it out. The sopping wet cloth was pressed to her cleavage causing to Chelsea gasped at the contact. The water he washed her with was a bit chilled from the evening air and dripped down the swells and valley of her breasts. Drops of water streaming down to her nipples, she felt extremely exposed.

Chelsea's nipples hardened as a passing draft feathered over the wet pink mounts and she struggled to keep the oncoming blush from consuming the entirety of her face. Seeming not to notice, Shea calmly continued washing her. He washed her shins and knees then brought the cloth to her face, wiping in steady circles he washed away all the smudged dried residue from her. Once finished Shea set the materials aside and leaned very closely to Chelsea's face. Timidly she leaned away as he invaded her personal space further.

Chelsea's hand slipped from under her and she fell backwards on to the nest of furs she was sitting on. The make-shift bed luxuriously soft against the skin of her bare back. Shea slowly crawled on top of her, staring down at her with sharp focused eyes. Chelsea curiously glanced down from his bare chest and blushed when seeing all he wore beneath the waist was a simple loin cloth... that was tented suspicously.

Having such a large man towering over her was absolutely terrifying. Though massive in stature, the jungle man showed no signs of violent intention. If anything he just looked curious. What did intimidate Chelsea though was the jungle man's very clear arousal and the enormous strength he clearly possessed. Bringing her eyes up to meet his she felt her blood run cold. Leaning over, his body separated her from the light of the hut's small fire. Torso casting a wide shadow across the delicate pale skin of her exposed upper body, Shea loomed over her and Chelsea tried shrinking in to herself reflexively. Her muscles ached and she briefly wondered how she would escape.

Expecting the worst as Shea's body began closing in on her Chelsea held her breath while praying that Shea would not do what she feared was about to happen. Bracing herself to strike the instant he made his move, she waited...but nothing. Shea simply stared at her curiously, blinking his almond shaped eyes slowly. Shifting her own eyes nervously she leaned up on her elbows, all to aware of the way her breasts protruded from her chest. She crawled back slightly, wincing as she moved her thigh.

Shea responded by inching closer. Immensely frightened she frantically crawled back further, squeaking as she felt large dry hands take hold of her thigh. So much for fighting back. Glancing down she noticed a large tear in her jeans, the edges marred with blood.

"This very strange." he commented, rubbing the material of her denim jeans under his palms.

"E-Excuse me?" She asked, completely taken back.

Shea patted her jean clad thighs affirmatively to make his point.

"This. What this?"

It dawned on Chelsea that Shea was talking about her pants. Of course he thought they were strange, he was wearing a damn loincloth.

"Well um, these are clothes. " Chelsea explained, gesturing to his loincloth. "Like that...sorta."

He nodded in understanding before trying to figure out to remove them. He tugged on the edges of her pant legs but Chelsea pushed him away with her uninjured leg. He tried once more to grab it but Chelsea struggled against him. Shea swiftly caught her leg and held it still, frown creasing his lips.

"More cuts." he insisted, pointing at her bloody thigh. "Need clean. If no clean cut get dirty and no heal. Pain long time."

Chelsea ceased her struggling and attempted to rolled the cuff of her pants up to her thigh but they were far too tight and stopped below her knee. Figuring that she had no other option, she reluctantly unbuttoned her jeans and tried to wiggle them off but winced as the material dragged across her open cut. Shea took over and managed to maneuver them off her more smoothly. Grabbing the bowl and cloth from before, he kneeled between her legs and dipped the cloth in water. Excess water was wrung out directly on to her cut.

"Ow! Hey!"

Shea said nothing and began wiping away the top layer of dried blood around the edges of her wounds. The cut itself wasn't life threatening but clearly needed first aid. Wetting the cloth once more he placed it directly over the wound where the broken skin still bled slightly and Chelsea's leg jutted up as she voiced her discomfort more aggressively. Shea reacted immediately, pushing forward with his body weight to still her... problem was his bulge pressed in to her as well.

Of course she freaked out.

"No!" She yelped, trying to push him away again. "Oh Goddess no-"

Unfortunately for her Shea was solid. He looked at her confused as to why she was suddenly so afraid. Chelsea lay there in only her simple white panties, panicking and extremely exposed. The wild man although physically aroused, was unphased by her nudity. His evident erection was simply a natural bodily response, one he actually didn't understand. Before he could figure out why Chelsea was so upset a creaking sound caught their attention.

Shea automatically recognized the sound as someone climbing the ladder. Rustling of leaves could be heard and a male figured emerged in the doorway. An average height slender old man with dark skin and wild straight course hair had climbed up the ladder to the hut. He entered carrying a long spear and basket of fish, chewing a piece of wild grass. His large nose red from years of sun exposure crinkled in confusion as he slid his eyes over to Chelsea who covered her pale chest, arms tightly wrapped around herself. Shea simply turned and greeted the man.

"Hello Wada." he said, nonchalantly. "Bring food? Hungry."

Wada nodded once and grunted as he placed the basket of freshly caught fish down. Walking over to where Shea and Chelsea were he stood over them, tapping the blunt end of his spear against Chelsea's leg softly. The wooden material inches away from her attended wound.

"What happen? Who this?" he questioned, chewing his grass idly.

"See her outside. Look sort of different so I follow. " Shea replied. " She run, hit branches. Then fall. Has cuts. Take here to help."

Wada nodded and looked back at Chelsea, tapping his chest with a firm hand.

"Wada." he introduced himself simply. "You?"

Chelsea shook with anxiety but told him her name. The elder grunted in approval. Shifting a curious glance towards the younger man he nodded his head down in the direction of Chelsea.

"This mate?" he questioned simply.

"Mate?" Shea asked.

"She woman." Wada stated matter a factly. "Woman good, woman make baby."

"WHAT!?"

       



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