Mud Season (f, mud, grim)

[MoTU]

The winters in New England are long and arduous. Snow keeps falling like it’ll never end, but as the earth cycles around the sun the seasons change in turn. After winter, most of the world moves on to the spring season, but the melting snow of New England ushers in their unique fifth season of the year: Mud season. Any local can tell you about the frustration of trying to go about your business during mud season, as entire roads are blocked off after having been converted into a mushy mess by the melted snow. Nevertheless, mud season still holds a special place in the heart of New Englanders as a 5th season that is uniquely Theirs.

Wendy, in particular, always felt a fondness for her home state of Vermont around mud season. Nothing made her happier than exploring the vast woods around her home, and her university’s spring break always aligned with the warmer part of the season, so the timing was always perfect for a trek. After a rough start to her classes this year, Wendy spent more time than usual looking forward to her annual visit to the woods. Even as her parents warned her about getting her clothes messy, that the abnormally heavy winter made for some sketchier-than-usual terrain, she gleefully pulled on her muck boots and strode out into the woods.

Her woods were, as always, full of fauna just coming out of hibernation and gorgeous New England flora. It was easy for Wendy to get lost in the sights, even as the sticky mud sucked on her boots with every step. Off in the distance she spotted a pond she liked to visit every year, but on the approach she felt the mud growing increasingly deep. She wasn’t even at the edge when a wayward step sucked her down to the knee, swallowing her boot and dirtying her jeans. Luckily she caught herself before stepping in further, so after some wiggling back and forth she managed to extricate her boot. “Ugh. Fine mom and dad, I’ll watch my step” Wendy muttered, as she opted to leave the unexpectedly risky area.

Over the course of her trek, Wendy found herself sinking unexpectedly left and right. Patches of mud that should have barely covered her ankles found their way up her shins or knees. At one point Wendy stepped into an inch-deep puddle of water, but the underlying mud was greedy enough to take her whole boot. The unexpected momentum caused her to fall over face-first, getting mud all over herself. In that moment, Wendy decided she’d had enough. Not of her exploration, of course, but of her parents’ concern about her clothes getting ruined. She already looked like she had become a swamp monster, so why bother being careful at this point?

Wendy defiantly squelched back to the pond that had scared her off at first. Her boots sank in the deepening mud as she started to approach the bank, around the boot rims and over her knees, but she slogged on regardless. She approached a rock formation along the edge of the pond that she could use as a vantage point, crawling on the top to escape the mud. Atop the safety of her rock, she admired her muddy form - her toes squished through the slime that had filled her boots, her jeans were soaked completely through to her panties, her uni’s logo was unrecognizable through the mud on her sweatshirt - mud season had certainly done a number on her outfit.

Regardless, Wendy was not satisfied. From on top of the rock, she saw that she was within a yard of the mud patch where the pond touched the land. It was like the middle of a color gradient, where you couldn’t tell where the water ended and the mud began. Wendy stood up, readied herself, then jumped feet-first into the sweet spot---

*SPLORCH*

In an instant, the mud swallowed Wendy’s boots. The mud swallowed Wendy’s knees, The mud swallowed Wendy’s hips, and didn’t pause its meal until it settled around her chest. As the muddy splash settled and Wendy took stock of her landing, she realized quickly that she had gone much too far. For a few seconds, she merely hung there in shock, coming to terms with how deep she had sunk. She only came to her senses when she noticed, despite being frozen still, the mud had started crawling over her breasts.

Rapid thoughts flashed through Wendy’s mind: “Mom and dad are gonna kill me when I get back…wait am I trapped...why am I still sinking...is this some sort of quickmud?” She tried lifting her legs but the suction around her boots kept her feet in place. She tried reaching for the rock but her arms wouldn’t budge - she only now recognized her arms were at her side when she jumped and were currently pinned to her sides under the thick mud. Wendy tried calling out for help, but she was on her folks’ private property and they were far from earshot.

Wendy’s instinct was to start thrashing around in panic the moment she fully realized she was trapped and alone without help, but of course her frantic movements only caused her to sink deeper. The pond muck now pooling around her neck, she realized that her situation was only getting worse and the lack of solid ground under her feet meant her time was limited. The fading panic started to gave way to hopelessness as Wendy recognized that she was going to die here, but in a moment of quiet reflection she recognized her fate. She, a proud New Englander, was going to drown in the titular mud of her local season. Maybe the loss of adrenaline was stripping her of rational thought, but as she tilted her head back Wendy found comfort in the poetic nature of her impending doom.

Wendy no longer fought the mud that sucked her down into its unknown depths, now enjoying the earth’s cool embrace as it rose over her ears and framed her face in brown muck. Closing her eyes, she took a final breath as the muddy quicksand of her home swallowed her completely. Underneath the surface, she allowed her body to struggle on its own as her lungs thirsted for fresh air, knowing that she would only be drawn deeper into the mud’s depths.

Moments later, a small cluster of bubbles formed on the mud’s surface. New England’s mud season wasn’t known for taking victims, only the precious time of its residents. As one of the few who truly cared for the season, Wendy was proud to be an exception.

[MoTU]

For anyone curious about the inspiration for this story, mud season is a 100% real thing.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mud_season

[bogbud]

Great read and very fitting for this time of the year. Also some kind of inspiration for my own sinkings that will resume very soon, too.
Nice you equipped her with the right attitude and also tall boots but bad that they did not help her at all

[maria]

Stories involving rubber boots sinking in deep mud are always good, and the descriptive part of when the rims go under an added touch. It's a shame there aren't more of them around.

Is there a way of finding out what stories have waders and boots in them?

[Fred588]

If someone has a complete story collection this might be possible using a keyword search, or perhaps someone with a similar interest might have a collection of such stories. Even with videos this is possible only to the extent that key words such as "boots" appear somewhere in the title or descriptions, so far as I am aware.

Stories involving rubber boots sinking in deep mud are always good, and the descriptive part of when the rims go under an added touch. It's a shame there aren't more of them around.

Is there a way of finding out what stories have waders and boots in them?

[101927700]

I'm a little late to the party here, but holy shit. This is one of my favorite QS stories I've read in months - though that might be partially due to my lack of reading them recently... but this is an amazing story nevertheless. Boots plus sinking equals brilliance.

[Rusty Shackleford]

If someone has a complete story collection this might be possible using a keyword search, or perhaps someone with a similar interest might have a collection of such stories. Even with videos this is possible only to the extent that key words such as "boots" appear somewhere in the title or descriptions, so far as I am aware.

Stories involving rubber boots sinking in deep mud are always good, and the descriptive part of when the rims go under an added touch. It's a shame there aren't more of them around.

Is there a way of finding out what stories have waders and boots in them?

First let me say this was a pretty interesting story and I learned something new, thank you for sharing!

I've been around for a while, so I'm pretty sure I've got 99% of the stories existing that even mention boots saved on my system (it's less than 100). There are not so many stories with waders, but a decent number with boots in general. Obviously, these aren't the focus of the stories given boots don't last long in the QS. And the more specific you want your footwear to be, the less you are going to find. The best way to find stories is to figure out which authors like to write about that, people gravitate to what they like and you'll get your most hits there. Also check the really prolific writers for occasional stories. You'll even find there are some authors who prefer other things (e.g. shoeless pantyhose) that you may think are deadends, but occasionally throw you a bone (I distinctly recall a nice Longshot story called Primal Hunt). Otherwise, most of what I've found is through mass text searching. If you have access to what was proposed as the "complete story archive" there are several stories in there, but I can also say there are a substantial number that are not.

But keep in mind there are plenty of awesome stories that don't mention wader or boots that are absolutely worth reading. I try and check out everything, as there are a number of great, well-developed stories out there. I'll take an interesting story any day of the week.

[maria]

The quick (part-pun unintended) sink appeals to many; but like all quirks, a very slow sink may also appeal too many.

There aren't too many stories or even videos of damsels very slowly sinking in a variety of sexy attire (beyond the convenient bikini). I'm kind of leaning towards some potential real scenarios of water sampling/animals in swamps = rubber boots and waders = step in the wrong spot .... Yeah, sorry, it works for some!

[bogbud]

The quick (part-pun unintended) sink appeals to many; but like all quirks, a very slow sink may also appeal too many.

There aren't too many stories or even videos of damsels very slowly sinking in a variety of sexy attire (beyond the convenient bikini). I'm kind of leaning towards some potential real scenarios of water sampling/animals in swamps = rubber boots and waders = step in the wrong spot .... Yeah, sorry, it works for some!

In a real scenario it's really difficult to sink deep in thick stuff that is needed for a slow sink.
Possible solution: Maybe our victim gets stuck about knee- or thighdeep and is desperately trying to lift her booted legs up before they get flooded. All that pumping and thrashing softens the mud and she is involuntary driving her deeper in (her waist or belly). She's still pumping her legs and now additionally tries to dig herself out with her arms. Unfortunatly, softer, more watery mud flows back and it just gets worse and worse....
It's up to the writer if she manages to grab something, gets rescued by some more experienced sinker or falls victim to the quickmud.

[maria]

That sounds like a story - I believe waders filled with mud will pull someone down if the mud liquefies.