Work Site

Hand-drawn or CGI. If you started with a blank screen or sheet of paper, it's cool to post it here! Please note - this forum is for posting drawings, not links to external sites.
Viridian
Posts: 1587
Joined: Wed Apr 15, 2009 10:03 am

Work Site

Postby Viridian » Tue Aug 11, 2020 6:24 pm

The tip-off was too good to ignore. For months, the reporter had been trying to expose the company. Rumour had it that it was a front for a crime syndicate. As soon as she found out that the nearby sand quarry was a hot spot for meetings, the reporter made her way there. She regretted multiple things in her haste, however. In her attempt to avoid detection, she took the back roads and trekked through the sand hills, but each one looked the same as the next and she found herself lost in the massive site. She also didn't have time to get changed into something more appropriate - a pencil skirt and heels made it arduous to walk through and around the sand pits and piles. Seeing that sand hills open up, she moved across the wide clearing, hoping to find an easier way to the company office.

She would find neither an easier way, nor the office.

She stumbled with her heels for the umpteenth time. She didn't think much of it, having clumsily walked through the quarry for the past hour. Another step, and something felt odd. It wasn't that she was unbalanced. It felt like the ground was...moving. She paused and looked down at the sand. She lifted her foot and placed it back down. There was definitely a ripple underneath the dry surface. She remembered being told that certain parts of the quarry were saturated with groundwater, and the currents made it unstable. Not wanting to find out, the reporter turned around and headed back the way she came.

As soon as the took the first step, she felt the ground sag beneath her. The dry crust cracked open and she was pulled down. Warm bubbles erupted through the now-broken surface, and moments later what was left of the sand melted into a thicky, gooey morass. The solid bottom seemed to disappeared, and she sank to her knees. She fell forward and planted her hands in front. Feel her hands break the surface and the warm sandy mud beneath, she yanked herself free and returned to an upright position. This only caused her to plunge deeper, driving straight down to her thighs.

The enormity of the reporter's peril dawned on her. The sand felt like wet cement, solidifying around her legs to slow her movement. She had to pump her legs to liquefy the sand so she could move again, but this only caused it to shift and ooze around her, pulling her down even more. She tested the surface with her hands again, nervously pulling her hands back as soon as she felt suction. A desperate glance around her revealed that the liquefied stretched out a few feet around her. She might be able to reach solid ground and crawl out, if she found the resolve to lean forward and risk burying her upper body in the gritty mud. Before she could do anything, she felt the sand undulate, and she sank to her hips. She suddenly felt the sand clamp around her thighs and buttocks like a vice.

Her survival instinct kicked in and she began to thrash and wriggle, keeping the sand as loose as possible, hoping to fight long enough for an opportunity to present itself. But her movements were restricted - not only by the heavy sand, but also by her tight pencil skirt. Realising that she wasn't going to be able to lift her legs the slightest, she reached to the side and unzipped the skirt. She only managed to get the zipper down a few inches before her hand plunged into the sucking sand. She hastily retracted her her hand. It wasn't nearly enough to pull the skirt off. She tried again, braving her hand becoming stuck. Fortunately the sand was more forgiving, but she found she couldn't budge the zipper. It had become clogged with wet sand, and no amount of desperate tugging could loosen the skirt any further. She tried again to free herself, yanking the skirt down as much as possible. She barely got anywhere with it, and now it was forming a tight wrapping around her thighs, further limiting her movement. She paused and took deep breaths to calm down.

"Need a hand?"

She snapped her head up. In her panic, she hadn't noticed anything outside of her immediate predicament. In front her stood a man wearing workman's clothing. Her relief was soon curbed. There weren't meant to be any workmen on the site today. The man had to be one of the criminals. Judging by the casual tone of his voice and how he stood nonchalantly with one hand his pockets and another holding a cigarette, he was in no hurry to save her.

"Um...help?" she said nervously, feeling the need to say something.

"Oh, I'd love to, darling," the man answered, flicking his cigarette. He watched as the reporter to squirm hip-deep in the unstable sand, trying to stay on top of it. "But you see, I'm not meant to be here. And neither are you."

"Please," the reporter begged. "I won't tell anyone."

"Tell anyone what?"

The reporter gulped. She had completely blown her cover. Not that she had much to go with. Without thinking, she let out a soft moan. The oozing sand her soaked through her underwear, triggering an unexpected reaction. The man flicked his cigarette away and changed his tone.

"Look darling, here's how it works," he began, going painfully slowly for the sinking reporter. He his eyes passed over what was still visible of her. "Option one - I pull you out of there, then take you to the office for some...questioning."

The reporter gulped. It wasn't hard to imagine what he meant by that. "And option two?"

The scoffed, acting as if he was taken aback by her audacity. "I pretend I never saw you and leave you in the quicksand."

"Quicksand!?"

"Oh yes, don't you know what you're standing in? Or should I say, sinking in?" he let out an uncomfortable chuckle. "I work here, after all. There are a few soft spots. Of course, we know where they are. We don't put signs up because we don't expect trespassers to get themselves into this mess. And look at you - walking right into a whole clearing of quicksand." He grinned as he saw her eyes widen. "That's right. This whole area is saturated. It's why we stopped working here. You could've walked across the whole thing and gotten truly stuck. You are a lucky girl. Or unlucky, depending on what your answer is. Option one or option two?"

The knowledge that she was trapped in quicksand made the choice easy for her. "Pull me out. Please. I'll do anything."

"I'm glad we understand each other," the man replied. "Take off your shirt."

"What?"

"Take off your shirt," the man repeated.

"Can't it wait until after?"

"You don't seem to understand, darling. You're quite stuck in there and you're sinking pretty quickly. I need something to pull you out. So, take off your shirt."

"Can't you get a rope or something?"

The man swung his arm to point around the quarry. "Do you see any rope around here? I could go and get some, but I don't know how long I'll be."

"Fine," the reporter responded, knowing what he really meant. She fumbled with the buttons and began to slip off her shirt. She noticed the man go silent. His eyes were transfixed on her toned body. Realising that she now had some leverage over her would-be rescuer, she thought of ways to turn her predicament around. Perhaps she could convince him to rescue her - and more. "You know, this alone might be too short. Perhaps you might need a little more length, and I'm not wearing anything except for my bra..."
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MadMax359
Posts: 4214
Joined: Sun Apr 19, 2009 5:07 am
Location: north carolina

Re: Work Site

Postby MadMax359 » Wed Aug 12, 2020 12:15 pm

one summer i had a job at an asphalt plant; one weekend my girlfriend came to visit, and i've fantasized about what if i could have gotten one of the guys who worked the bulldozers to make me a pit, and after everyone went away she and i could have filled it with mud and... :twisted:
The strong do what they want, the weak do what they must


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