A Boggy Little Tale |
 | After spending an afternoon sunning herself on a beach by a quiet, remote lake, an adventurous young lady decides to go for a walk through an adjoining grassy meadow. She is really enjoying the wonderful spring day in the great outdoors. The warm sun beating down on her soft skin, the fresh air, the serenity of the open meadows in the wilderness... |
 | After coming across a pond, she stops on the muddy shoreline to adore a female Mallard duck in the water with her ducklings swimming in front of her. |
 | Suddenly, her tender feet feel like they have just been grabbed by giant hands. Looking down, she sees that the ground has given way beneath her feet, closing over them and slowly sucking them in deeper. She tries to pull her left foot out, but the mud only makes sucking noises and holds it firm. Her right foot is pushed in deeper in the attempt, and so she tries to pull that foot out, with no success, only driving her left foot further into the morass. |
 | The ground around her pulsates hungrily as she continues to struggle to free herself, the voracious ooze slowly engulfing more and more of her legs. "What the hell did I step into?" she thinks to herself... |
 | As her bikini shorts start disappearing into the rubbery mire, a grim realization falls upon her. Quicksand! Oh, God! I stepped into quicksand!!! Now she really starts to panic, trying to lift herself out by repeatedly pushing down on the bouncing ground all around her. But each time, the surface of the mire gives way and starts to grab hold of her hands tightly. The quicksand makes more sucking sounds as she just barely manages to yank each hand back out of the rubbery ground. |
 | Now, as the quicksand starts licking at her breasts, she tries grasping at the patch of grass between her and the water, but the delicate blades only rip off. She claws at the grass roots, but they only tear to pieces. The quicksand's muscular grip on her body is too strong. She starts calling for help, even though she knows that the area is isolated, with no one for miles. She then becomes distracted momentarily by the soft feel of the quaking, heaving morass that is pulling her ever deeper into the ground. She starts to wonder how something that feels so soft and comfortable could be so deadly. It feels like being completely surrounded by a waterbed. Even the surface bounces like one... |
 | But then, her mind snaps back to her present predicament as tongues of quicksand start to slowly close over her silken shoulders and lick at her neck. She feels so betrayed by the ground whose solidity and support she has always taken for granted all her life. Something that is usually beneath her feet is now just beneath her chin, and if she doesn't get out, the ground she walks on will be above her head, out of reach! She continues to call for help, even though she knows that it is futile. But perhaps by chance there may just be someone else in the area within earshot... |
 | With the voracious quagmire now rising to her mouth, she starts to face upward, feeling the quivering morass's cool, moist, firm, yet pillowy soft grip slowly oozing up the back and sides of her head. She continues to scream for help, now looking up and breathing through a slowly deepening and narrowing gap in the quicksand above her head. |
 | She finally takes one last breath and closes her eyes as her view of the sky in the outside world pinches shut, the cool, moist morass feeling like two cushions coming together on top of her face, cutting off her source of air and enclosing her in darkness. She feels the surface of the hungry mire slowly rising around her upward-reaching hands and sucking over them, until she is finally cut off completely from the outside world forever. |
 | Totally encompassed by what has become her soft miry grave, the last thing she hears is the hissing sound of her last escaping breath, slowly working its way through the muck back up to the surface above, which is no longer within reach. Viewed from above, the surface of the quicksand pulsates, hisses, farts and burps, then becomes still. All is silent, except for the soft quacking of ducks. |