2.Saturday
When he rose in the early dawn, he prepared himself to see the creature’s lifeless body. As he unzipped the tent and looked out, the only sight that greeted him was his shoe next to the ashes of the fire. Had he really been that drunk? He scanned the site and spotted the bottle of whiskey, before nodding knowingly. He would be traveling more slowly today, the after effects of the previous night’s bender running their full course.
Scott changed clothes and packed quietly, his head pounding from last night’s drinking and his cock unusually sore. Once his things were back together and his pack slung smartly across his shoulders, he set off south, still headed into the heart of the forest. He left the clearing and headed back into the trees, winding his way over jutting roots and loose rocks. The way was easy, and the fresh morning air made Scott’s hangover diminish quickly. His thoughts were troubled by the feeling that what he dreamt last night may have been more than just a drunken dream, but he worked to push those thoughts aside and keep his focus on the hike.
The early morning chill receded, and the temperature began to rise as the hours ticked by. Scott soon found himself at the edge of an old dirt access road. He looked to the right where the road stretched off into the trees. Scott looked to the left and froze. About a quarter of a mile down the road forked, and in the middle of the fork was the wreckage of an old maroon and white pick up truck, crashed head on into a tree, both doors open wide. Scott sighed heavily and set off towards it, hoping to find it abandoned.
Scott made sure to stay close to the tree line, trying to stay as hidden as possible. He didn’t know why he did it, but something about the truck aroused his suspicion. As he neared the fork, he decided to stay left, pass the truck a ways, and circle back towards it through the trees. That way he could come at it from the front, and hopefully be able to tell quickly if anybody was injured. Scott circled around the tree the truck had crashed into, coming up to the mangled hood. He ran his hand over it—cold. The wreck must not have happened recently.
Scott slowly crept around the driver side of the truck, trying to peek in and see if there was anyone hurt. Instead of an empty seat or an injured person, Scott’s eyes were met with a pile of pinkish goo, jelly-like and lumpy. Scott was relieved to find the truck empty, but felt compelled to investigate the strange substance. The hair rose on the back of his neck, his body signaling a warning, but Scott ignored it. He moved around the door and came up to the seat to get a closer look. The slime was perfectly still and didn’t have any kind of smell that Scott could determine. He held his breath and reached his muscular arm out to poke it. The pinkish slime was warm and elastic, almost like freshly spit out gum but softer.
Scott withdrew his hand and noticed the slime trailed out the passenger side of the truck. Scott walked around the bed of the truck and around to the other side where he started following the trail of slime through the trees, across the right side of the fork in the road, and back into the trees. The slime was flecked on leaves, spattered on the forest floor, and seemed headed in a straight line. He lost the trail a few times, but felt a strange compulsion to continue to pursue it. Scott followed it for about forty five minutes before it disappeared into a small hole in the ground, the slime piled high around the opening.
Scott stopped and pondered the hole. What could that slime be? It didn’t look like blood from some injured animal, but Scott didn’t rule it out. He guessed he would never know as he passed the hole and started to make his way southward again. It wasn’t until a hundred yards from the hole that the ground felt soft. A few steps later and the ground gave way beneath Scott, sending him tumbling down into an underground cavern.
He landed with a soft thud in the large pile of dirt that had fallen beneath him, luckily unharmed. He sat for a couple minutes and let his eyes adjust to the dim light. The cavern was small, about the size of a room, and completely closed off on all sides. The hole he fell through was at a corner, just about fifteen feet up. Innumerable small holes dotted each of the walls, making Scott wonder if he could use them as finger holes to climb out. He tightened the straps on his pack and started to climb, hesitantly sticking his fingers in the countless holes as he went.
He was only a couple of feet off the ground when his fingers all hit something soft and gooey as they found their holes. The shock made him swiftly withdraw his hand, sending him off balance and tumbling back to the floor. Scott landed on his pack, his eyes falling to rest on the wall. Pink slime poured out of the holes, running down the wall. Scott scrambled to his feet and backed away as it reached the floor and started pooling out towards him. Scott dropped his pack and kept backing away from the slime, keeping his eyes locked on it, searching for signs of a threat. Unbeknownst to Scott, the threat came in the form of a toxin released by the slime, one which was already coursing through his veins. It was this toxin that compelled Scott to follow the slime trail, and it was this toxin that drew him back towards the oozing wall. Scott’s curiosity could not be sated, and he slowly crept towards the wall.
Slime continued to pour out of the holes, the puddle seeping across the floor. Scott put his hand against the wall and let the slime run over it, coating his fingers. He rubbed the slime between his fingers, thinking it was almost the consistency of cum. As more of the toxin entered his blood stream, the thought of cum started to make him hard, his limp dick growing slowly in his shorts.
Scott peeled off his shirt and wiped the slime across his chest, thinking of the countless times his own cum had shot across his hairy pecs, often times hitting his face. More and more of the toxin seeped into Scott’s skin, furthering and intensifying his arousal. His admirable cock was fully hard, pressing against his gym shorts, the fabric tenting over it, and begging to be released. Scott smeared some of the slime on his abs, ran his hand down into his shorts and grabbed his cock. Precum soaked through the front of his shorts as Scott stroked his dick, and it wasn’t long before he pulled them down, his dick slapping up against his abs, slime splattering from the impact.
Scott was incredibly horny, and he craved something to fuck. He cupped his hands against the wall, catching the slime as it oozed from the wall. He grabbed his dick and fucked his hands, ramming his cock in and out of them, the slime coating his cock, mixing with his precum. Scott moaned loudly, on the edge of shooting his load, but not wanting to.
The slime had pooled all the way to the far walls, activating them to release slime from their many holes as it reached them. The depth of slime on the floor slowly increased. Scott took no notice, focused solely on his throbbing cock, teasing himself to the edge and backing off, reveling in the pleasure. Precum streamed from his dick, falling in slow ropes into the slime.
Slime was now up to Scott’s ankles, seeping into his shoes. Scott looked down and saw what was happening, but it didn’t register with him. He was lost in his lust, the deep red head of his cock the only one with a brain.
Scott’s muscular frame was covered with a thin film of sweat, highlighting his thick arms and finely defined abs as they worked in unison to hold tight as he fucked his hands. His massive cock was slick with slime and copious precum, gliding easily even in his strong grip. His balls drew close to his body, urging him to shoot his load, but Scott continued to tease himself closer and closer to the edge without releasing his thick, hot cum. Scott wanted desperately to cum, to feel his nuts empty and his hot load shoot across his chest and abs. Scott readied himself, aiming his dick straight at his mouth as he tightened his grip and quickened his stroke. He was getting closer and closer, the pressure in his balls intensifying, each stroke bringing him to the brink. Scott grabbed his balls as he reached the climax, but nothing happened. There was no firing of cum, no wild ecstasy. Scott stroked faster, feeling the pressure build again. Once more, no orgasm.
Scott’s laser focus on his dick distracted him from the rising slime. By now it had reached his lower thigh, coating the bottom of his gym shorts. The toxin’s primary effect was beginning to reveal effect—the combined increase of Scott’s arousal and inhibition of his ability to release his cum. Eventually the toxic slime would cause Scott to drown, fruitlessly stroking his huge cock until his last breath.
The slime continued to pour from the walls, rising now to meet Scott’s hard dick. Scott slapped his cock against the slime, dipping and coating it. He continued to stroke, reveling in the fresh lube. Scott tightened his grip, his thighs and buttocks pistoning his cock in and out of his hands. He just wanted to cum, and not being able to was driving him mad.
As Scott’s dick disappeared beneath the rising slime, he slogged through the slime to the mound of dirt that had fallen with him into the pit. He laid back on the dirt just barely out of the slime, though his whole lower body was still covered with it. He continued to jack off , coming so close to cumming every few minutes. As the slime began to dry on his legs, Scott once again aimed his cock at his face, desperately, crazily wanting to feel the hot cum trapped in his balls spray all over himself. Scott gripped his dick as hard as he could and stroked as fast as he could. Now that he was no longer being exposed to fresh doses of the slime’s toxin, the effects were beginning to weaken.
As Scott once again reached the anticipation of climax his furious stroking finally sent him over the edge, which sent long ropes of hot cum shooting out of his cock. Cum shot over his shoulder, over his head, into his open mouth and down his chin, across his pecs, and across his flexed abs. More cum shot as Scott continued to stroke, nearly covering his upper body. Scott was in total ecstasy as he tasted the salty cum in his mouth and smelled the musk of it covering his body. As his balls finally emptied, cum pooling on his hand and running down to the base of his dick, Scott’s senses started to return.
Scott surveyed his surroundings with fresh awareness, suddenly embarrassed by the vast amount of cum covering his body and shocked at the amount of slime in the small underground room. His backpack was lost somewhere beneath the slime, but Scott didn’t bother with it as he made a plan to escape. He was exhausted, but needed to reserve the last of his energy for a swift climb up the slime covered wall and out into the fresh air.
Scott drew a deep breath and leapt at the wall, fingers searching for holes to snag, something to catch himself on and draw himself out of this death pit. His fingers were successful, though his grip was tested by the slime. Using only his upper body, Scott clawed his way as quickly as he could up further and further. Finally he was able to grip solid ground and hoist himself out into wider forest.
The afternoon sun was a shock to his eyes after his grueling time in the pit. Overcome by the absurdity of the totally alien experience, he collapsed on the ground, still covered in drying slime and stream after stream of cum. Scott didn’t know what he was going to do. He had always been able to get out of any jam, but now he was stranded miles into the forest without any of the gear he brought or even a full set of clothes.
Scott quickly quelled his worries and stood up. He still had most of the afternoon and tomorrow morning to make it back to the guys. While he didn’t know what had just happened to him, he was confident that he could make it back to the parking lot with relative ease. It might be a cold night, but he knew the worst was behind him. In some ways, he was right. The creature that lurked behind Scott was the worst—the beast that had been eyeing Scott over his entire journey, hungering for him. It remained hidden for now, not wanting to make its move too soon.
Scott grabbed a handful of leaves from a nearby oak and tore them off to wipe his body clean before setting off back in the direction he came, trying to wind his back to the road he passed. Progress was slower than he would have liked, his shoes slippery on the inside from the pooled slime. Nonetheless he was able to make it first back to the truck, then the spot further down the road where he had first emerged from the trees.
It wasn’t until he had tracked down his campsite that the gnawing feeling that something was wrong in this forest came over him. The sun was low on the horizon, but Scott refused to sleep here, unable to shake the feeling that his ordeal from last night was more real than he originally suspected. What was it with this forest and his dick? Scott skirted around the edge of the campsite and decided to keep going a few miles and see if he could make it to the stream. With no supplies, making camp wasn’t much of a concern, but finding someplace safe to sleep was.
Scott could hear the trickle of the stream before he saw it, but knew he wasn’t far from being picked up by his friends. All he had to do was find somewhere to sleep and head back to the parking lot in the morning. Once he had reached the soft moss of the stream bank, he took a quick minute to clean the cum and slime off his body before deciding to lie down. He had already checked the area for any sign of that slime or a the tentacled creature that had attacked last night. As he closed his eyes to sleep he felt safe and confident, feelings that would prove to be a mistake.ahead of where he had planned on being, so he decided to kill some time and relieve the building pressure in his nuts. He sat on the rocky edge, and stripped off his shoes and socks. He spread out his drying shirt and laid back, letting his feet and lower legs fall in the stream. He quickly scanned his surroundings, thoughts of hillbilly rapists lingering at the back of his mind. The tree strewn slopes on either side of the creek were clear, and Scott was alone among the mosses and fungi at the bank.
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