Bog - a love story - by PM2K

Put fingers to keyboard and make your fantasies come to life!
User avatar
PM2K
Always Remembered
Posts: 10386
Joined: Wed Apr 15, 2009 6:14 pm
Location: Eastern Ontario

Bog - a love story - by PM2K

Postby PM2K » Sat Dec 11, 2010 8:17 am

Repost - Dec. 8, 2012 - originally up Dec 2010.

Normally I don't bump up my old stuff, but I got a request to repost this one... and since it has been two years since I first put it up, I don't see too much harm in following through... ;)

I personally think this is my best story. It is certainly among my favorites.



Bog, a love story - by PM2K

Barely breathing from excitement, Peter gazes over the strange beauty of the bog stretching before him. Behind him looms the impenetrable wall of the ancient forest.
The wetland itself is a dead ringer for the Grimpen Mire of movie fame... black peat and dark brown muck mixed into a thick bottomless slurry, lightly sprinkled with patches of green moss and grassy tufts, surrounded by a thick curtain of tall grasses and reeds. It emits a slightly rancid odor, a curious miasma hinting of decay and new life.
All this place lacks is the Baskerville Hound, Peter thinks, smiling at the thought.
Swarms of mosquitoes and other marsh insects buzz around him, swimming in the hot, humid air, but he pays them no heed. Despite his attire - battered runners, nylon jogging shorts and a tattered gray T-shirt - none have taken the opportunity to draw blood or even land on him.
The strangeness of that enters his mind briefly, but that thought is set aside by a rising sense of anticipation.
It hasn't changed. It hasn't changed at all!
Peter can barely restrain himself. His body aches and trembles, his flesh tingles, his clothing feels hot, almost too tight against his skin.
Five years... five long years...
Too damn long, he thinks, and, adjusting the pack on his shoulder, makes his way down towards the bog.

Peter had been coming to the wetland since he was a teen, and never tired of the experiences he always had here. As a kid, he always had a fascination with deep mud and quicksand, whether it was from watching bad guys go under in TV and the movies, to similar scenes in the comics.
This fascination gelled into an obsession when, creeping into adolescence, he sank hip deep in a thick jelly-like mix of clay and sand during a hike with his scout troop.
To his surprise, he found he enjoyed the sensations of the heavy wet slurry pressing and rubbing hard against him, and wallowed for a time, working his way down to his armpits bouncing with the friction before being discovered.
After that incident, he found he couldn't look at those quicksand scenes in the movies the same way. Whenever a character fell into a bottomless bog, Peter became envious, remembering how it had felt.
Soon, watching and remembering weren't enough, and he began looking for the perfect place to do it again...

Peter stands on the edge of the rich brown bog, and sighs deeply. He places his pack on the spongy ground beside him, then kicks off his shoes. Squatting down, he opens the small nylon pack sack, carefully removing six two-liter plastic bottles. All have labels etched into the surface of a favorite brand of shampoo, and all are filled to capacity with water.
Several old dingy shirts and towels follow, placed beside the bottles. A can of insect repellent joins them. The last item is a plastic bag, containing a second set of clothing.
Peter nods, and seizes the can, giving himself another overall spray. This is more out of reflex, for despite the heat and humidity, he hasn't been bothered by insects at all. He can hear them, but oddly none approach.
Peter shrugs, looking at the can. This stuff must be more potent than I thought... and puts it back inside the pack.
All around him is a combination of tall grasses, reeds and cattails. Looking up, he glances over the crowns of the trees, which form an interlaced ceiling of green branches, screening the sky and shielding him from the blistering sun. He knows from experience he will be quite undisturbed here.

Peter was half way through high school when he first found this place. He knew of the woods, of course... every kid in the county was warned to stay out of them. No specific reason was ever given, but when pressed, only pieces of the puzzle came out... one adult had said "haunted"... another mentioned "it's a bad place" ... but it was the third piece... "bog".... which attracted Peter.
One hot summer's day, he ventured into the ancient forest, which he was delighted to discover felt pleasant and cool, with none of the creepy vibe he'd expect from a haunted place, and after an hour of easy walking found the very fen he now stares at.
He was hesitant at first. Suppose it sucked him completely under? Maybe he wouldn't be able to escape its sticky grip and would slowly sink out of sight... or just remain stuck, with no one around for miles to hear his cries or know what became of him...
But those fears excited him too. That sense of the unknown, mixed with a powerful brew of emerging eroticism, aroused him intensely.
And so, foolishly perhaps, Peter took his first steps atop the warm doughy mass of wet peat, and sank slowly into its welcoming mass....
It proved to be better than he had hoped. Never daring to venture out further than a few yards from the shoreline, Peter found he could sink to the tops of his shoulders quite comfortably, and after a vigorous bout of struggling, could extract himself without needing a rope. Each sink brought new confidence, and he began to get more daring, including forcing himself under the thick muck, imitating countless mire victims from the films.

After that, he couldn't keep away. The years became long intervals of endless waiting for the weather to warm up the mud and peat enough to venture in, the efforts to return as often as he could without people wondering where he was going all the time, that heartbreaking moment when the bog became too cold... and the agonizing wait for winter and its cruel snows to abate before the cycle began again.

Peter kept visiting the bog all through high school and college, and on graduation, instead of the grad party, he went for a sink.
Then it happened.
A job he landed after college transferred him unexpectedly across the country, and for five long years he had been trying to get back. To try and find a new sinking place was unthinkable, like cheating on a lover.
Then, the economy tanked, and he was one of the first shown the door without so much as a fond farewell or a last paycheck. He scraped up the last of his savings and made his way back to his home town, not so much because of any future prospects, but because he had nowhere else to go.

So now here he is. Back at last.
"Miss me?" Peter says, then laughs. The bog looks the same as he remembers it. It never ceased to amaze him how untouched by the rest of the world it has remained.
The woods themselves were protected under various conservation laws, but no one who grew up in the area would have gone near them anyway... the power of the old taboos remain strong.
Without a second thought, Peter walks out onto the bog's surface, enjoying the way it bounces beneath him. Through his feet, he can sense its depth through the thick mixture of mud and peat, and he is tempted to work his way down here. But the deeper stuff he liked is just a little further out.
Reaching a likely spot, he begins to dig his feet in, shifting his weight from leg to leg in a weird imitation of a jig. But strangely, the doughy surface resists his efforts to break through.
Peter frowns. The bog remains damp to the touch, yet seems to stiffen in response to his foot stomping. Perhaps over the years it has thickened here, he thinks, and looks out instead towards the wet, dark center of the bog.
"Maybe..." he says, feeling a wave of nervousness shiver through him. In all his past visits to the wetland, he had never ventured out that far... and has no idea just how deep that area is... But as he continues to think about it, the idea of sinking into that dark, inviting muck really takes hold, and before he is really aware, he is making his way slowly towards it.
Peter's footing remains steady, even as the ground gets wetter, clinging to the soles of his feet before detaching with moist, sucking sounds. The muddy earth shivers and wobbles in response to his movements, but remains firm.
He continues to advance, his breathing getting rapid with anticipation...

Bloop!

The bog beneath Peter suddenly softens, and he plunges knee deep into its sun warmed, sticky mass. He shakes his head in surprise. Must be a soft spot or something, he thinks, then attempts to pull his legs free.
Neither budges.
"Huh..." he mutters, and resumes his struggling. The muck, which had been so loose moments before, had set, trapping him in a stiff, jelly-like slurry. Wiggling, he grasps his right leg with both hands and pulls hard, but it fails to move upwards more than a quarter of an inch. It quickly settles back down as soon as he releases it.
"Damn..."
Peter shakes his head again, but in puzzlement and frustration. Through the soles of his feet, he can feel the texture of the bog beneath, and while thick, it still flows loosely.
So why is the top like this? he thinks, and bounces in place. The mire ripples slowly in response. Yet he remains stuck.
Once again bouncing in place, he senses its depth beneath the jiggling mass, and imagines it to be practically bottomless.
Sweat beads on his face, drips from the tips of his hair, runs down his spine. The air is electric with anticipation, yet he doesn't know what he is waiting for...

A strange shifting in the mud several feet in front of him causes Peter to look at the gentle roiling motion in its rich surface. His eyes widen in surprise.
Two bright green orbs stare back at him, floating in the rich brown mud. The orbs blink.
Peter is held in place, spellbound. Underneath the green globes, the dark earth bulges upwards, forming a mushy dome, which slowly deforms into a flattened egg shape. The two green eyes - and really, what else could they be? - slide down the surface of the egg and come to rest a third of the way down. They blink again, their gaze fixed on Peter.
A figure begins to rise slowly out of the muck, at first a shapeless pillar of rich brown mud, then it begins to define itself, as if unseen fingers work clay spinning on a potter's wheel. Its surface flows downward, quiet gurgling sounds accompanying the transformation.
In stunned silence, Peter watches as the mud smoothly takes the form of a young woman. She is clad only in the mud which forms her, and in the sunlight her long hair, a deep green which matches the bog's grasses and moss, reaches past her narrow waist to brush her hips. A green thatch denotes her well defined pubic area, a detail which nearly makes Peter start giggling at the strangeness of his situation.
The girl stands about a half head shorter, seemingly knee deep in the mire, the same as him. Unlike him, she isn't stuck, but glides effortlessly towards him. Except for the soft gurgling of wet earth, her approach is eerily quiet.

It never occurs to Peter to be frightened. Gazing into her eyes and face, he is struck by how lovely she is, yet it is a beauty which comes out of how ordinary she looks. Her small nose is slightly crooked, the skin on her left cheek bears a long scar, her eyes are slightly too closely set.
Glancing over her form, he sees she is no fantasy of impossible proportions, but is in almost every respect an ordinary, healthy woman, much like one you'd sit beside in school, or see walking down the main street. To him, this only makes her more beautiful.
The mud girl surprises him then, reaching out to grasp the sides his face with her hands, the mudflesh firm and warm. Gazing directly into his eyes, she smiles gently and then kisses him hard on the mouth, closing her eyes as she does so.
Peter gasps in reaction, a motion permitting her to become more passionate in her kiss. He tastes a rich mixture of mud and honeysuckle as his companion greedily sucks on his tongue, and for the first time he realizes the depths of her hunger for him, of her love...
Peter thinks how lonely she must be...

Night. Noises shrill. Voices, angry. Panic. Breathing ragged.
Oh, Goddess... protect me!
Forest. Rocks, roots, branches. Stabbing, slashing. Bare feet, bare flesh.
Voices louder. Torches brighter.
Witch! Witch!
No... no! Leave me alone!
Deeper... deeper... hide... Hide!
Ground wet. Spongy. Cold.
Voices cry out.
Stop!
Ground melts.
NO!
Wet mud. Cold. Flowing. Everywhere. Sinking! Fast!
No... help me... Goddess! Please...
Can't... deeper... breathe... deeper!
So cold... deeper... so heavy... deeper!
Goddess... help...
Voices fade. Light fades.

Peter blinks, shivering from the memory, which slips away as the mud girl's lips part his own. She continues to hold him, her arms now gently wrapped around his neck. She blinks, her eyes once more locking onto his.
"Oh... god..." he utters, unable to fully come to terms with the experience. Whoever this... being... is, she was once alive... a young woman chased and drowned in this very bog.
"Poor thing....." he says quietly. If any of her memories of her last moments were accurate, then it would have been an agonizing end... Almost as if sensing his thoughts, the mud girl kisses him again, and this time he finds himself reciprocating, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her tight against him.

The feelings come slowly. Year by year. Particle by particle. Awareness built upon grains of mud and peat, woven through cool waters and moss and grass.
She becomes aware of the passage of time through the seasons. The summer sun, the fall cold. Winter sleep. Spring awakening.
She begins to remember, remember herself and who she was, and in so doing, learns to sculpt herself, to build form from memory. The eyes are the hardest. Learning to see is far more difficult than remembering one's body. But she has time. All the time in the world.

Their lips part again, and Peter gazes into the mud girl's eyes again. Her features soften, and she smiles shyly.
So lonely...
That thought which appeared from the moment they first kissed rises again to become a strong insight.
"You... know me... don't you?" he asks aloud, and isn't surprised to see her nod gently.
Peter mulls over this revelation. Thinking back to his experiences and his trips to the bog, of the happy hours wallowing in it, and how intimate it all became at times...
He blushes. All this time he was wallowing in her... penetrating her body... relishing the way she felt against him....It never occurred to him until now the bog itself might be aware of his actions...
Looking again at the mud girl, at her contented expression, he realizes she found it as pleasurable as he did.
Then he remembers his long absence...

The wait is agonizing. For the first time since her death and slow rebirth, she is reminded of loneliness. And it is like dying for a second time.
To be without him to hold, to feel his warmth radiate through her form... is unbearable.
She decides then and there if he did return, she wouldn't let him go.

She is holding him so tight now. The incredible warmth from her body makes his clothing unbearably tight to wear. Peter feels her moving against him, her arms tight around his torso, her mouth once again sucking hard on his...
So absorbed in his own passions, Peter isn't aware of the moment his shorts slide down off his hips, nor when his shirt is pulled off over his head. Both items of clothing, dropped almost casually, slip beneath the bog unnoticed.
They act as one, Peter reaching around to cup the mud girl's buttocks and lifting her up, she in turn raising her arms around his back and seizing the top of his shoulders with her hands, using the leverage to haul herself upwards.
Peter's eyes widen as the mud girl suddenly lets go with her right hand, reaches down to grasp his erection, and guides it deep into her, all in one smooth motion.
His body responds eagerly, matching her motions thrust for thrust. She holds him tight, legs and arms clamping hard against him, her body shuddering, her face a perfect mime of a woman in the throes of passion. She pauses in kissing only to silently mouth what could be interpreted as gasps of pleasure, before she gently bites his lower lip, then switches to more intense mouth play.
Peter is vaguely aware of the bog rising along his still trapped limbs, creeping steadily over his knees and thighs, lapping at his hips. His bog lover is warmer inside, the mud slick and creamy, yet still able to squeeze hard on him with a steady, intensely pleasurable pulse.
When the bog's surface surrounds both of their waists, a portion of Peter's mind not swept away by sensation tries to point out the danger, but he ignores it.
He is well aware of it, and frankly couldn't care less... If the bog wishes to devour him completely, so be it.
His climax is intense, and he finds himself pulling her so tight against him, he half expected her to dissolve into mush and ooze all over. But the girl's mudflesh remains firm and responsive, and she is holding him equally hard, straining in response to her own fireworks.

Spent, Peter and the mud girl float chest deep in the bog, churned up from their lovemaking. She continues to hold him, arms draped loosely over his shoulders and neck, while he plays with her breasts, marveling at their consistency, and the way her nipples stiffen at his touch. Hard to believe, considering what she is made of, yet here she is.
Deep beneath the muck, he can feel her legs still wrapped around him. and his penis, still buried deep within her, responds as she playfully jiggles her hips from side to side.
"So.... what now?" he says, looking into the eyes of his companion.
She responds by kissing him deeply. In her mind's eye, Peter sees the pack he had set up on the shoreline shudder, then slip into the bog, as the earth beneath it crumbles. It vanishes beneath the gently churning surface, leaving no traces that it was ever there.
Their lips part again, and she looks at him intensely. There is love there for him, Peter realizes, but also a grim determination. He knows there is no way he'd ever set foot on firm land again.
A flicker of fear rises within him, but only for a moment. In his life, he never encountered such a pure love, a pure desire, a pure need for him as much as the mud girl is showing for him. Truth be told, he really had no one else... his parents long dead, no family to speak of save his foster one, and they made no secret of their pleasure to see him leave after graduation, no real friends.

Peter smiles at the mud girl, and surprises her by kissing first. She blinks in response, then smiles broadly as he nods. The sheer joy in her expression nearly brings him to tears.
She now kisses him hungrily, her hips beneath the bog moving in a now familiar rhythm. Peter responds in kind, feeling the pair of them begin to descend into the thick, churning mire.
Oh, god... this is it...
They sink rapidly now, the bog's surface swallowing her breasts and his chest in moments, the heavy mud rolling over their shoulders as if to help push them under.
Peter pauses for a moment when, chin deep, his ears filled with warmish mud, he takes a last look around. Out of reflex, he attempts to take a final breath, but the mud girl prevents this, and once more clamps her mouth around his. With a twist of her body, she takes them both deep under the swirling ooze.
Peter climaxes once more, a feeling made more intense by his impending suffocation. The mud girl holds him tight as his body thrashes, fighting in vain to steal a last bit of air. He can feel her begin to change, to soften, flowing thickly into his mouth and nose, filling him up with bog until he no longer struggles, and awareness slowly slips away...

Peter can feel her all around him. Every crack and crevasse, every particle of his being... she is there, snuggled tight. Filling all the spaces.
He knows her, now. Knows her as intimately as she knows him. He is now a part of her, as she is of him. And both couldn't be happier.
It would take time, of course. Time to learn how to sense, to feel, to form a semblance of his original form, much as she learned to do over the hundreds of years since her last breath left her body, deep under the bog.
Unlike Elizabeth, the girl who perished so long ago, and was so sad, so lonely before finding someone to reach out to, Peter would have a loving teacher to guide him in this strange new journey.
Yes, it would take years, perhaps decades or longer, but it really didn't matter.
They both had all the time in the world.
Last edited by PM2K on Sat Dec 08, 2012 9:46 pm, edited 6 times in total.

User avatar
DJlurker
Posts: 1468
Joined: Sun Apr 19, 2009 6:29 pm

Re: Bog - a love story - by PM2K

Postby DJlurker » Sun Dec 12, 2010 1:41 pm

Wow. Pretty intense.

User avatar
Aiko
Posts: 932
Joined: Thu Apr 16, 2009 9:43 pm
Location: The Great Swamp
Contact:

Re: Bog - a love story - by PM2K

Postby Aiko » Sun Dec 12, 2010 3:07 pm

That story's very sensual and also romantic. Great work! I liked it.
Visit me at the Great Swamp, but watch your step on the way there!

User avatar
uw_ikarus
Posts: 21
Joined: Tue Oct 26, 2010 2:39 pm
Location: Land of Fantasy

Re: Bog - a love story - by PM2K

Postby uw_ikarus » Mon Dec 13, 2010 6:25 pm

Great, that's magic fantasy !!

;) More those stories, please !

User avatar
Mynock
Posts: 3044
Joined: Thu Apr 16, 2009 2:29 am
Location: PA

Re: Bog - a love story - by PM2K

Postby Mynock » Thu Dec 16, 2010 12:49 am

Wow.....hey producers....remember a while ago when we were talking about guy/girl videos.....??? Yea, I'd buy this.
Awesome story PM2K.
"Know thyself, know thy enemy. A thousand battles, a thousand victories."
--Sun Tzu

User avatar
Old Humpback
Posts: 11
Joined: Mon Dec 13, 2010 11:59 pm
Location: Southern Maryland

Re: Bog - a love story - by PM2K

Postby Old Humpback » Thu Dec 16, 2010 1:58 am

Wicked cool story. Im slowly making my way thru them here, and will tell you that this is one of my faves. An instant classic!
Did you know its impossible to lick the outside of your own elbow?

User avatar
PM2K
Always Remembered
Posts: 10386
Joined: Wed Apr 15, 2009 6:14 pm
Location: Eastern Ontario

Re: Bog - a love story - by PM2K

Postby PM2K » Fri Dec 17, 2010 1:44 am

Thanks everyone, for all of the kind comments! :D

A little bit about this... it was inspired by a fantastic gem of a story called "Mire" by Brand. For those who missed it, it was a sword and sorcery tale in which a warrior is lured to his doom by a sexy mud creature. Reading it, one would go along with the idea of the creature being an evil sort of siren, but for some reason, I always thought of her as just being lonely, and she just acted on the impulse to seduce this guy. The fact she drowned him in the process was incidental.

I must have reworked that concept a dozen times over the past three to four years before I finally came up with this one. I'm rather happy with it. I'm glad you all enjoyed it. :D

quickbeard
Posts: 71
Joined: Wed Apr 22, 2009 2:30 am

Re: Bog - a love story - by PM2K

Postby quickbeard » Sat Jan 01, 2011 11:56 pm

Wow.. even say it backwards wow. Nice improvement to Brand's story. Same since of supernatural, while making it more desirable to be the person in the story. But otherwise I still think you are the cryptkeeper... or should that be the quickptkeeper? :)

User avatar
PM2K
Always Remembered
Posts: 10386
Joined: Wed Apr 15, 2009 6:14 pm
Location: Eastern Ontario

Re: Bog - a love story - by PM2K

Postby PM2K » Tue Jan 04, 2011 12:17 am

Neither... I'm a quick cryptkeeper... ;)

Thanks for the comments. :D

User avatar
PM2K
Always Remembered
Posts: 10386
Joined: Wed Apr 15, 2009 6:14 pm
Location: Eastern Ontario

Re: Bog - a love story - by PM2K

Postby PM2K » Sat Dec 08, 2012 9:49 pm

Normally I don't bump up my older posts... but I got a request to repost this, so after two years I thought it would be okay... ;)


Return to “Stories”

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 1 guest