Field Wor

I was on a research trip, investigating the bogs and swamps of the Midlands. It was the height of summer, and it was so hot that I was sweating before I even got out of the car.

My job as a research student means that I have to get up close and personal with bogs. I find the spot I need to look at, then I change into a wetsuit, put on a snorkel and plunge in. My specialty is the various kinds of aquatic algae that live in the highly acidic water of bogs. But to be honest, the main reason I went for the job is that I just like bogsurfing – wallowing around in the slimy ooze of a good swamp.

I walked down to the particular area I had been told about. A friend of mine, a fellow researcher, had told me that there was something strange about the place that she couldn’t put her finger on. “I don’t know what it was,” she had said in the bar the previous night. “It was just something in the air…I felt like I was being watched. Weird.” It looked fairly normal to me – a shallow depression containing the bog proper, ringed by moss. The air was hot and humid, with a lot of midges flittering over the ground. The only unusual thing was a short, thick, twisted tree on the lip of the bog, covered in ivy and vines. That made no sense – how could a tree grow in this acid soil? I decided to investigate.

It was such a hot day that I didn’t look forward to putting on the wetsuit. I knew I would get very sweaty in it, plus I had never enjoyed the whole rigmarole of putting it on and taking it off. I considered for a moment, looked around, and decided that I wouldn’t bother with it – I would go into the bog in just my swimming trunks and a snorkel mask. I stripped off my exterior clothes; I was wearing my reliable old red Speedos under my combat trousers. I took the snorkel mask from my bag, put it on and stepped into the bog.

It was only about waist deep, and refreshingly cool. The sun was beating down on my bare head and chest as I waded into the middle of the bog, looking for anything unusual. Nothing so far. I leaned forward and put my face under the surface; still nothing. There was a curious sweet scent in the air, faintly intoxicating. I waded further on and realised that it seemed to be coming from the tree. I went on, wiping the bog ooze off my forehead, and soon I had reached the opposite lip of the bog, where the tree stood. I climbed out and walked towards it.

It wasn’t any sort of tree I recognised. The vines that covered it were thick and dark green, but they weren’t ivy. The bark was a strange reddish-brown colour. It seemed to glisten. I stepped up to the tree and examined it. Yes, there was a vertical crack in the bark, about a foot long, at the level of my head, and the lips of this crack glistened with some sort of moisture. I peered at it. What the hell was this? It looked not so much like wood, more like some kind of animal tissue. The sweet smell was very strong. I pulled off my snorkel mask and tossed it on the ground. Then I put my nose to the crack and sniffed.

In one smooth motion the crack split open, yawned wide, revealing a glistening red interior with a spongy consistency - then it sprang forward, like a mouth, and engulfed my head down to the neck with a loud SCCHHHLUP!

“MMMMMMMMMMM!!!!” I screamed. The spongy red tissue of the tree had closed tight over my face and the whole of my head. It must have looked from the outside like I had got my head stuck in the tree. I thrashed wildly and tried to pull my head out, but suddenly, the thick, rope-like vines were snaking around my body and lashing me to the tree-trunk. I was panicking. Somehow I was still able to breathe – the tree tissue must have been porous enough to allow air to pass to my nostrils. The tree was clutching me to itself, the rough bark tight against my body. I was terrified that it was some sort of hitherto unknown flesh-eating tree, and that I would be digested. But it had something else in mind for me.

The strong, tight, pliable vines quickly spiralled up my legs and into my swimming trunks. I felt them slide up into my trunks, curling about my ass and my cock and balls, invading the most intimate parts of my body. I heaved and tried to escape them. Then I felt them expanding, pulling apart from each other and ripping the fabric of my trunks. The torn scrap of cloth about my hips fell away from me, and I was suddenly butt-naked. I screamed again, “MMMMMMMM!! MMMMM!!” But it was useless – my head, absorbed into the trunk of the tree, was so muffled that whatever sound I made was almost inaudible outside. And now the blunt, bulbous tips of the vines were pulling my ass cheeks apart, secreting a gel-like fluid all over my ass, preparing me. I fought desperately to evade what was happening to me, but it was no use. One of the thick vines was pressing at my anus, and I clenched my ass as tight as I could, but the tree was stronger. It forced itself up into my ass, urgently, and I felt the ring of my anal muscle widening to admit the alien pressure. I let out a muffled gasp of agony as it pushed up deep into the cavity of my ass, sodomising me.

I had never had any kind of gay experience. I was totally unprepared for the overwhelming flood of sensation as the pulsing, muscular vine tunnelled up into my rectum, fucking me brutally. I had once had anal sex with a girl and had enjoyed the feeling of fucking a girl in her most private orifice, but I had no idea of how intimate and comsuming the feeling could be. Now it was being done to me, and I arched my back and moaned, blindly, as my hips were forced back onto the impaling pressure of the vine.

At the same time, another vine was pushing at my lips and forcing my mouth open. My moans were stifled as it filled my mouth and began to pump into me, with the same rhythm that the other vine was fucking my ass. Despite my horror and fear, the sheer sensation of being anally fucked by the tree was giving me a huge hard-on.

And now the tree had developed another tight, moist orifice at the level of my crotch. My hips were twitching with the savage, relentless force of my ass being fucked, and my swollen cock desperately needed an opening. The cavity in the tree seemed to slide apart and it closed around my shaft, moist, cool and soothing, hauling on my cock, engulfing my balls. I made a nameless noise of horror and ecstasy – I was losing myself in the total violation the tree was subjecting me to, clearly as some part of its reproductive process. Did it have to rape humans in order to spread its seed? Why hadn’t it assaulted my researcher friend? Was it because she was a girl? Even as I was writhing and making stifled moans, naked in the grip of the tree, these questions were burning in my mind.

The pain of the vine that was fucking my ass had subsided and was replaced by a luxurious feeling of fullness, of tightness. I was still struggling with the tree, but it was the struggle of yearning to feel overwhelming physical sensation. The tree was raping me for its own purpose, but it had developed the means to make me enjoy it despite myself. And now, the thick vegetable cables in my ass and in my gullet were throbbing with life and exploding in gouts of fluid, as the tree pumped its seed into my straining, naked body. Fluid boiled up, filling my ass and spilling out of my anus, and also welling up over my face and head inside the tree, filling my mouth and eyes and ears. At the same time, I was moaning deliriously as the tree milked my cock, spurting my cum violently into its interior. I came like I had seldom done before, weeping with shame but also with total abandon.

Then it was over. I was held in the tree’s unyielding embrace for a few moments, while I panted for breath and whimpered deliriously. Then the vines slid out of my ass and my mouth, the grip on my head was quickly released and the bonds around my naked limbs and torso were let go. I fell back onto the mossy ground and as I fell, the cavities where my head and my cock had been spewed out gallons of thick, pale fluid over my nude body, drenching me in a salty flood of sticky white sap. I sprawled on the moss, blinded, naked, exhausted and spent.

I lay there, weeping a little from the shame and the bliss, then I crawled over to the bog and washed the rapidly thickening sap off myself as best I could. I stumbled back to my clothes and dragged them on. Then I got into my car and drove off. A few miles down the road, I felt terrible stomach cramps, and a violent urge to use the bathroom. I pulled the car into a side road and ducked behind a hedge. I had just managed to yank my pants down before I exploded from both ends, throwing up a pale green liquid onto the grass, and voiding the same green slime from my ass. When I was done, I collapsed on the ground, but gradually I felt much better, and I managed to clean myself up and get back into my car. I drove home, shaky, trembling and in severe need of a shower and several drinks. Yet even the indignity of my roadside experience couldn’t wipe out the spectacular pleasure I had experienced when the tree took me.

That was six months ago. I can only assume that the tree needed my cum to reproduce itself. All I can say is, I can’t be the only person it’s raped. Those trees are cropping up everywhere, now, including the place where I used the roadside as an emergency bathroom. Most of the people in the lab are mystified, but I have a theory of my own. I want to take my researcher friend to examine the specimen in the bog. I want to see if the trees have a different technique with women…