BEACH IN HEAT

BEACH IN HEAT

I looked down at the crabs and laughed. I heard the sound of my own voice reverberate back off the walls of the cave and it sounded like some hysterical hyena caught in a leg trap. My mind was in full panic. “The crabs aren’t cooked!” I yelled. “Hell they aren’t even dead!” That’s the kind of thing goes through your mind when death grins in your face.

I’d handled crabs before. Crab Imperial. Crab Paprika. Crab a la King. Crab Creole. Crabs in Shells. Crab Legs. Crab pieces in a Romaine lettuce salad with chopped Belgian endives. Crab Cakes. Crabs. Crabs. Crabs. I knew crabs. Knew them well. I’d seen them on the beach just the other day. I’d seen them eating dead fish. Dead birds. Other dead crabs.

I lay on my back and watched in horror as dozens of un-dead and un-cooked crabs came out of the water and scuttled across the floor of the cave toward me. I wondered if they had a preference when it came to eating humans. Raw Sushi style human eyeballs in a bed of fresh seaweed. Toes in a pool of fresh blood. Raw cock while the victim screamed and pulled desperately at the handcuff that kept him chained naked to the iron ring embedded in the cave wall six inches from the floor.

The rock was wet and cold under my bare ass and I tried to fold my thumb in and make my hand small so I could pull it out of the handcuff. No luck.
I flailed at the approaching crabs with my feet but they flanked me. Now they were coming at me from the sides. Thrusting forward with claws that seemed to grow immense the closer they came. Little brown beady eyes and mouth parts that clicked and moved around on what must be their faces. Salt water drool oozing out like putrid venom. Did they look at each other and think, she looks hot, or boy you’d think he’d do something about those mandibles.

My one free hand cupped my naked balls and I tried to keep my cock covered. Does this make me a scaredy cat. Would Zorro be fearless in my place? Would the Hulk sneer at the danger I was in. Don’t kid yourself. They’d be pissing themselves too.

I screamed for help! Nothing! I even prayed. “Dear God. Save my sorry ass and I’ll give something up. Booze. Pot. Masturbation.”

One of the little bastards climbed on my foot and I kicked it off, then crushed it under my heal squirting out flesh and guts. It was immediately set upon by others. Suddenly the main body of my attackers shifted toward the corpse of their dead comrade. They piled on it. Claws ripping off pieces of meat and stuffing it into their mouths. Snapping viciously at each other.

I wasn’t fooled. They’d soon turn their attention back to me. I had to think of something. Maybe I could chew my hand off. Leave it there as a distraction as I ran off, blood gushing from the stump of my arm.

It was about this point that rising water washed some of the crabs off the rocks and back into the water. The tide was rising. Take that you little crustaceans. Back to hell where you belong.

The tide was rising fast now. The entrance to the cave was entirely under water. It was lapping at my feet and washing around my naked chest, up into my hair. I looked up at the roof of the cave. Six feet up I could see the  high tide line. I briefly thought again about chewing my hand off. How long would it take for a determined person to chew their own hand off?

Now you’re asking yourself, how does a guy get himself into a mess like this. It wasn’t by choice that’s for sure. I’ll try to keep the story short because it looks like I might not have too much time to tell it.

It all began about a month ago.