Jinn’s AI Swamp

[Jinn]

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The moon shone radiant and full. The night breathed humidly and hazily. The jungle loomed dark and forbidding. The girl lay restless and roused.

Jameela tossed and turned uncomfortably in what could barely be perceived as “sleep.” Sweat beaded and dripped incessantly from her feverish flesh onto the soaked and strewn silk sheets of her hanging treehouse bed.

The dreams corrupted her slumber again; dreams of touching and tasting; dreams of caressing and kissing; dreams of love and lust; dreams so vivid and sensual that the aroused African girl awoke several times to find her ultra-sensitive body sopping wet with more than just perspiration… she was sinfully saturated with sexual seepage.

Breathing heavy, an unsettled and semi-conscious Jameela tantalizingly traced her fingertips over her glistening thighs and delicately danced them over her sweat laced tummy. She began to tenderly massage her supple breasts while habitually and vigorously kneading her starving vagina.

She opened her eyes. Her friend the moon gleamed down at her unapologetically. ‘What are you gawking at?’ hissed the hot and bothered beauty, as she touched herself fruitlessly and frustratingly.

Her masturbation had become a utility. It was like a mop; used to wipe away, then put away. Instead of being a pleasurable playtime practice, self gratification had become a preventative pacifier for a ferocious feminine yearning; a safety valve to ease the pressure of her ravenous, uncanny cravings.

Her desire ran wild and unchecked. It was no longer a sexy itch that needed scratching. It had mutated into something like a disease; it was affecting her chemistry; it was holding her mental and physical health hostage; it was making her delirious.

‘I am unquenchable,’ sighed Jameela while stroking herself rhythmically and robotically. It was the familiar phrase she had so often repeated to herself when her urges seemed to conquer her judgement and commandeer her resolve; the signature words she used when her attempts to quell the hungry beast within had failed.

What she really meant to say was “I am unwell.” The sexual sickness infecting her felt foreign and otherworldly. It seemed organic yet unnatural. Jameela knew very well what being horny felt like. She enjoyed feeling horny. However this she did not like. Whatever “this” was it was beyond horny. It was dangerously past the point of mere sexual frustration. This strange sex-crazed thirst and hyper-hormonal suffering was something not of her. She had been completely taken over by it, ever since her moonlit jaunt in the jungle a pair of fortnights prior when she had submitted herself to the…

‘Tentacles,’ whispered Jameela, gasping and clutching a fistful of damp linen, ‘I’m cumming.’ Her body shivered and quivered as hot cum gushed over her forging fingers buried deep in her turned on, turgid pussy. Her climactic relief was instant but sadly intermittent. By the time Jameela had ceased convulsing and creaming herself her amorously amped body was already thirsting for more.

Jameela feared it was her close contact with the touchy tendrils that had infected her and transformed her into some kind of cum-lusting sex vampire. Her thoughts were erratic. She conspired irrationally. She had actually strategized how she might go about ambushing wary travelers, or even pouncing on unsuspecting locals to get what she wanted… to get what her sex starved soul coveted, what her fuck-famished body hungered for.

But her thoughts always came back to the tentacles. As the next lunar cycle approached its apex so did her fascination with the friendly fondlers. Her dreams had begun to almost exclusively contain sex themed scenarios with the rubbery rousers.

Those dreams were the most vivid and the most unforgettable; they always featured Jameela curiously courting and submissively surrendering to dozens of probing appendages to achieve the sexual euphoria she so desperately sought.

Those dreams were the most erotic; they usually contained intercourse and climaxes so realistic that they would almost always trigger actual toe curling, lip biting sleep-gasms.

Those dreams were the most horrifying; more times than not they would end with a blissfully ignorant and cumming jungle girl being dragged to her doom by the tubular touchers into the bubbling, bottomless bog in which they resided.

Inevitably, the ominous, orgasmic nightmares with their frightful, foreshadowed fate were not enough to deter the desperately deprived damsel. Jameela’s cum-lust beckoned her to the Deep, where she suspected steamy, squirmy sex and slimy, slithering sodomy awaited her.

‘Tentacles,’ she whispered again, sitting up overly aroused and adventurous in her swaying sleep apparatus under the earth’s auspicious orbiting orb, ‘I’m coming…’

The anticipation alone was giving Jameela orgasmic fervors. She pranced elegantly through the trees and thick underbrush of the East African jungle unable to keep her hands off herself. Dizzy with desire in the dark she stumbled frequently but recovered gracefully.

The danger too, vehemently excited her. The roused redhead was feeling so sensitive and sexy that she was convinced a face off with a blood thirsty predator or a perilous pit trap may trigger an autoerotic episode.

As Jameela glided steadfast into the gloom the ground beneath her was becoming marshy. She felt gritty ooze squishing between her toes as she slopped barefoot through the thick jungle muck. Squelching sounds filled the suspicious silence around her as she yanked her shapely legs from the sucking goop. The venturing vixen imagined herself carelessly stumbling into a deadly pit of gooey quicksand, where the sensation of sinking could easily send her into a cum spouting fit.

‘The Deep,’ presumed Jameela, as an eerie shroud of nervousness fell upon her. The jungle here appeared more depressing, more decayed. The air was becoming heavy and oppressive. The ambience was frighteningly foreboding. Jameela was undoubtedly skirting the fringes of the notorious, peril filled swamp.

Her survival instincts begged her to turn and run. Her sexual appetite enticed her to keep sloshing her pretty legs further into the goo filled glades. Her heart pounded in her chest like it was trying to escape. Her vagina tingled and trickled as though expecting company.

Coming to the edge of a mossy clearing, Jameela halted her advance. She recognized this particularly devious looking dell as the one she had been chased into by the sinister sounder of hunting hogs nearly a month ago. The moonlit moss was a facade. Under the green, grassy looking growth was bog; foul, fetid, fathomless filth that she had narrowly escaped during her previous visit. One of the pursuing pigs hadn’t been so fortunate.

It was also this bog where she had made her fateful discovery.

‘The tentacle pit,’ declared Jameela, as goosebumps rose up from her skin. The mere mention of it caused the hairs on her neck to stand up. Even in the hazy humidity something of a cold shiver ran down her spine. She began to feel faint, as if she was swooning over the very real possibility that she was about to embark on a second date with the bog’s icky inhabitants.

Her pulse quickened. Her breathing became shallow and rapid. Pins and needles zapped her toes and fingertips. She clenched her clammy palms. Cold sweat permeated through her skin. She felt the onset of tunnel vision. Jameela was in the grip of a panic attack. The excitement was too much for the journeying jungle girl.

The reeling redhead steadied herself and sat down in the tall reeds adjacent to the masquerading morass. She laid back and elevated her weak, shaky legs on a soft mound of earth beside her. She focused on her breathing, slowing it down to longer, deeper, more controlled exchanges as she half heartedly tried to meditate. ‘This is madness,’ admitted Jameela, closing her eyes momentarily until a vertigo induced dizzy spell made her nauseous.

Jameela wasn’t wrong in her assessment. She knew no good or lasting relief from her “sinfluenza” could come of this excursion. Her toxic desire was deleterious. She feared that she was on a collision course with calamity. The lightheaded jungle girl knew deep down that this was more or less a suicide mission. Yet she persisted, driven by cravings and blinded by lust. Her ceaseless urges coiled around and captured her, like the very tentacles she had wandered into the Deep to offer herself to.

The earth shifted peculiarly under Jameela’s legs causing her to jump up from her reclined posture. A rush of adrenaline seemed to wash away her faint spells as she examined the mound she was resting on. She cleared away the tall grass to get a better look at the unsteady mass. The lumpy heap was not earth at all. It was canvass. Someone had left their pack here.

Judging by the amount of growth on it Jameela assumed the fully loaded luggage had been long forgotten. No one in their right mind would leave such a trove of supplies behind in this environment unless they were in danger. And in the wretched swamp known as the Deep, one was always in danger. The owner of the hefty kit bag was obviously not returning for it. Ever. They were either dead, or too scared, or too smart to come back to this godforsaken place, she surmised.

She helped herself to an inspection of the sack’s contents. It was loaded with charts; a compass; envelopes marked with a London street address; climbing gear; canisters and jars with dehydrated fruit; two red, foot long, capped tubes; thirty three shillings; a hunting knife; a six shot revolver loaded with two rounds; miscellaneous clutter… and a treasure map.

The brilliant moonlight clearly displayed the parchment survey; a crudely sketched topographical view of the British East Africa Protectorate coastline. The map featured scribbled notes, landmarks, points of interest, possible inland treasure locations and a cute illustration of a shipwreck off the coast. Written in the finest calligraphy under the image of the sunken vessel: HMS Worthy.

Jameela smiled. This ambitious adventurer had been searching for the world famous hidden fortune recovered from her father’s sunken ship. HER ship. HER hidden fortune. ‘Good luck,’ she wished the long departed treasure hunter.

Jameela squinted in the pale moonlight trying to read the rough chicken scratch handwriting in the map’s notes. She could just barely make out the spelling of a girl’s name. Jameela knew the moniker very well. “Charlotte Weber” was HER name, in her former life as the daughter of a Royal Navy Commander. Under it in parentheses, was scribbled “Jameea of the Jungle.” It seemed the legend of the shipwreck’s sole survivor who had collected and concealed a priceless treasure from her daddy’s drowned boat was getting around. Jameela considered that she would have to start being extra precautious with visitors to her jungle. Her private paradise was starting to feel not so private.

Foraging through the pack gave Jameela time to recover from her crippling anxiety symptoms. It also provided a temporary distraction from her starving psychotic sex drive. It gave her a precious opportunity to use rational thought and decision making skills uninfluenced by her poisoned pursuit of pleasure. It felt nice to think of something else besides sacrificing her sex hungry body to slimy swamp creatures. For a moment Jameela remembered what it was like to just be a girl, to be human.

She stood up in the reeds, put the heavy carrier on her shoulders and carefully made her way around the perimeter of the bog. Burping bubbles emitted putrid swamp gas from the under the moss as the surface of the bog quaked and heaved. The swamp was always so animated Jameela thought, like it was licking its chops before a meal.

The brave, beautiful girl in skimpy leopard print garments cautiously approached the far side of the menacing mud hole. ‘They’re not here,’ calculated Jameela, standing in the same spot she had been a month earlier when the wormlike wands had crawled up her lovely legs, and explored her nether regions. ‘The tentacles are not here! They’re gone!’

The area was void of any sign of the tempting tendrils. A puzzled jungle girl set down the bulky pack and assessed her situation. She was definitely in the right spot. The moon was full. The conditions were identical. It didn’t make any sense. Perhaps the tentacles had shifted over to the other side of the bog, or even migrated the other side of the Deep. The only certainty was that the jungle girl was alone.

Jameela’s crushing disappointment was dwarfed by her epic feminine desire. The fact that she couldn’t fulfill the fantasy she was chasing made her want it even more. ‘Bugger!’ cussed the annoyed adventurer, standing bothered and bitchy with her hands on her hips.

She turned around and let out a long, defeated sigh. She crossed her arms and stared for a while at her new cumbrous canvass acquisition and considered what it represented: Someone else had come to this place in search of something they wanted very, very badly. That person had risked their life and more than likely ended it in pursuit of that thing. Their desire had probably lead them to an untimely demise even though they didn’t actually need the thing they coveted. Perhaps they may have felt that this thing would fulfill them or deliver them to a higher state of being. Whether it would have or not was a moot point because they paid the ultimate price for their longing.

Jameela perceived this abandoned pack as a sign; an ominous reflection of her own perilous pursuits. Of all the times and places to stumble upon such an ensemble of lost possessions, one of which with her own bloody name written on it. Jameela slowly began to regard the omen in a more spiritual sense. To her it was revealing itself as a warning of divine influence.

‘I’ve made a big mistake,’ deduced the doubtful damsel, as if proclaiming her predicament to the plump prophetic pack, ‘I must get out of this swamp.’

As Jameela made for the crammed kit bag, she stumbled in the marshy moss. She had been tripped up by something unseen, something moving in the mud. Before the floundering female could focus on her faulter, a pair of twisting tendrils had begun to loop their slithery selves around her legs.

‘Ugh!’ gasped the alarmed lass as tentacles spiraled quickly around each of her calves, gripping her gams tightly. These weren’t like the teasing, tickling tentacles that were friendly and flirty with her during her first encounter. These forceful feelers seemed more controlling, more conniving.

Jameela struggled. ‘Please! I don’t…’ she begged before the aggressive appendages pulled her off balance, sending her falling forward onto her pack. The creepy crawlers commenced coiling over her knees and continued creeping up her flexing thighs. With a series of muscly tugs they began to draw the jolted jungle girl toward the bubbling bog.

‘My legs! UHN! No!’ protested Jameela, hurriedly reaching into the pack to produce the small hunting knife buried under the cluttered gear. She turned and began to hack at one of the tentacles, sawing and slicing as it recoiled in apparent displeasure. As it let go of her kicking leg and reversed into the swamp, another icky arm rose from the goop to replace it. She jabbed and stabbed at the other slithering strand, until it let go as well. Another rubbery replacement immediately compensated, climbing and clutching Jameela’s calf then crawling and coiling up her thigh.

‘It’s no use!’ lamented the gripped girl, as arm after arm appeared for each assailant she ousted.

The knife wielding wild woman raised her weapon intent on bringing the blade down once again onto her aggressors. This time her effort was thwarted by wickedly whipping worm that thrust itself around Jameela’s wrist from her flank. ‘Let go!’ demanded the restrained redhead as the grabber seized and squeezed her arm. Its grip was powerful, and her hold on the knife waned until she inevitably dropped it.

In the meantime Jameela’s other hand was fishing frantically in the pack for another defensive item. Out came the revolver. The gun-toting girl held the pistol point blank against the tentacle wrapped tightly around her forearm and discharged a round. The bang was deafening. The recoil almost sent the firearm flying along with the chunks of tendril meat and neon green gut juice that had sprayed into the air. The scene reeked of gunpowder and something like rotting fish.

With her ears still ringing from the gun blast, Jameela pointed the pistol at one of the tentacles scaling her legs. Before she could fire the remaining round off, the six shot was swatted from her grasp by yet another attacking tendril.

With her legs firmly in the clutches of the creepy crawlers, Jameela could once again feel herself being dragged toward the moss blanketed bog. ‘UHN!’ she whimpered, clawing at the ground desperately as her helpless body was pulled toward the sucking sludge pit and a nest of rising rubbery ropes, ‘Leave me alone!’

A gasp expelled from her pouting lips as she turned to witness a hellish host of treacherous tentaculum, writhing and reaching for her by the dozens from the quaking quicksand.

Jameela stretched out, reaching for the canvass pack in front of her. Her fingertips grasped one of the shoulder straps when the bag was suddenly lifted into the air by a huge tentacle emerging from the muck before her. The dejected jungle girl watched defeatedly as contents were strewn about the glade by the wiggling worm whipping and wringing the sack widely overhead.

The bog belched hideously as more and more terrible tentacles rose to receive the defiantly struggling jungle girl. She moaned hopelessly as she felt her feet then her calves slipping into the sandy swamp sludge behind her. Snake-like slitherers overwhelmed her as the quicksand gurgled despicably and slurped at her sinking legs.

The feeling of wiggling worms working their way under her garments invoked whimpers from the defeated damsel. Coils of musclebound meat squeezed her breasts as a slimy squiggler slid boldly between her defenseless bottocks. With a painful pinch, the tentacle squished itself into Jameela’s vulnerable ass, causing her to yelp with extreme discomfort while it set about pumping her tight opening like a fleshy piston.

Another uninvited appendage traveled under her violated ass and sought out her humid, moist vagina. ‘Please, no!’ begged Jameela, as the assaulting arm pushed its squirmy tip into the slippery opening of her hot mound. ‘I just want to go home… I just want to go home!’ pleaded the besieged beauty repeatedly as the penetrating prodders lunged deep inside her to commence their brutal assault. ‘I just want to… UHN!!!’

Tears of fear and pain streamed from Jameela’s eyes as the tandem of tentacles ravaged her captured body. All the while she was slowly but surely being dragged deeper and deeper into the gruesome, gurgling quicksand. A tentacle had caught her right arm and was holding it behind her back while she pawed desperately at the muck with the left.

There was no escape for seized and sinking jungle girl. She was totally at the mercy of the mire and the monsters, as they relentlessly invaded her ass and unabatedly pounded her pussy.

As the muddy marauders pulled Jameela’s thighs down into the awful ooze, her intruding adversaries began to throb and pulse disturbingly inside her. They trembled and torqued queerly before squirting an offensive amount of hot, slimy tenta-cum deep in her body. Pailfuls of sticky seminal fluid gushed from her openings as her attackers continued their horrific probing of her abused body.

Biting her lip, Jameela fought not only against the terrible tendrils and the quicksand’s deadly suction, but also against the arousal that was beginning to envelope her. A sense of utter helplessness was already totally suppressing her, and although she tried, the red faced redhead couldn’t deny that she fancied it. She found the feeling of the murderous muck monsters immobilizing her legs as she was being sucked into the bottomless goo to be overwhelmingly erotic. The pain and discomfort of the forced tentacle sex and sodomy being inflicted on her was deliciously unbearable yet frighteningly enticing. The pleasure and pain receptors in her brain were singing harmoniously to the tune of her desperate, danger filled dilemma.

Soon she would be completely engulfed by the bog, and the demons in its depths would continue to fondle her and fuck her and fill her with their spurting secretions. Soon she would breathe her last breath and succumb to a dreadful drowning death in liquified sand. These stark realizations for all their horror and heinousness made Jameela’s loins hum and tremble with an approaching orgasm of such scary intensity that she fought against that too.

‘(GASP) Ohmygod (GASP),’ she cried out with delectable despair, before a ropey writher rounded her neck and stuffed itself into her gaping mouth, ‘UHN! Im going to cu…’

Jameela was at the threshold of an epic, ultra sensual, hyper-sexual release. The icky quicksand had greedily gulped down her beautiful hips and was slurping away at the toned ab muscles of her flat, firm midsection. Tentacles snaked tighter around her bested body, constricting her heaving chest and strangling her airway. Hot invasive fluid continued to be pumped munificently into her inflamed, greasy, gooped openings. An aggressive arm from the nest had reached over to the doomed damsel and set about forcibly pulling a coil full of her long red locks. Adding fuel to her already out of control feminine inferno, the scales and suction cups of an infiltrating tentacle under the surface were rubbing purposely, provocatively and perpetually against her super sensitive clitoris.

Jameela could no longer resist.

The warm, tingling glow deep inside the capitulated captive girl began to expand and pervade her trapped and tortured body. It rose up into her plentiful chest and made its way past her shoulders, down the length of her arms, into her hands and out to the muddy ends of her fingers. It travelled all the way down her long, luscious legs, through her feet and right out to the tips of her toes. It tickled her neck, permeated her head and even the follicles of her gorgeous red mane with a cozy, lascivious warmth. Every inch of the lovely Jameela vibrated with the rising electric radiance of an earth shattering, soul shaking orgasm.

Its arrival took hold of her fully and completely. It caused her to relinquish total control of her motor skills as she came. The gyrating jungle girl twisted and turned like the muddy monster mob mauling her. Her jaw bit down on the tentacle that was lodged in her throat. Her clenching teeth lacerated the panicked appendage as it retreated hastily from her mouth. Her pelvic muscles contracted so intensely that they shot out the anal and vaginal intruders from her gushing openings like slippery eels.

Jameela closed her eyes, tilted her head back and let out an eerie, unhinged, primal howl at the moon as she surrendered to the euphoric tsunami of sex and heat and bliss and cum exploding from within her convulsing, contorting feminine frame.

The nest of tentacles paused their pummeling and released their gruesome grip, seemingly shuddering in shock by the ferocity of Jameela’s red hot sexual climax. Even the quicksand seemed to stifle its slurping and sucking while the juicy jungle girl jerked and jolted.

The power of Jameela’s orgasm had delivered more than just relief from her devilish desires, it emancipated her from their inane influence. Her mind, body and soul were reset, restored and vindicated. She immediately felt more in charge of her destiny, and would fight to have it be anywhere other than the bowels of the Deep.

As the pinnacle of her pleasurable peak subsided Jameela felt an aura of calming peace surround her. She entered a trance like state of reflection, ignorant to the tentacles that had started to rally and were once again slithering around their voluptuous victim. She paid no mind to the fact that ghastly quicksand was burying her breasts as she continued to sink out of sight.

With her eyes closed the meditative maiden reached to her left and grasped at something lying in the moss adjacent to her. She had no idea the object was even there, yet had been strangely compelled to collect it.

Jameela opened her eyes to examine the item. She recognized it as part of the gear that had been tossed from the pack. It was a long, red cylindrical tube with a rough tipped cap at one end.

Feeling something slithering around her waist under the quicksand, Jameela questioned her instincts and motives for playing with such trinkets while being devoured by a monster filled bog.

However her instincts prevailed. She ignored the tentacles beginning to wrap themselves around her arms so to further inspected her prize. Not even sure of what she was doing, the curious jungle girl removed the cap and struck its rough end on the newly exposed end of the cylinder. A strange hiss emitted from the object along with a cloud of dense smoke and an intense, bright red flame. When the signal flare ignited it lit up the bog like a pocket sized sun.

The looming tendrils about to pile onto the mired maiden flinched at the flare’s radiating light and scattered like exposed rats. Even the submerged assaulters abandoned their underground attack. Shielding her eyes from the brilliantly burning cylinder, Jameela could hear splashing and squelching in the muck on all sides of her as her photosensitive assailants dove into the sheltering darkness of the bottomless Deep.

And then under the moon and the receding shadow of night it was just the filthy female, her fiery flare, and of course her frighteningly familiar foe: sticky, slurpy quicksand.

Jameela was up to her shoulders in the sinister quagmire. ‘I don’t suppose I could interest you in not swallowing me, could I?’ requested the joshing jungle girl to her earthy, abhorrently appalling archenemy.

Her lighthearted humor was answered with a ghastly gurgle, as Jameela was sucked spitefully down to her chin in the gritty ooze. She was out of options and out of time. There was nothing around her but mounds of moss and muck; nothing above her but fleeting starlight and the infused pinks and blues of the twilit morning sky; nothing beneath her but deep, deadly, disgusting quicksand.

‘This can’t be it,’ denied the doomed damsel, pleading her case to her friend the moon which was also sinking into its own horizon at the advent of sunrise. ‘After all the suffering and all the stupid sex… After all the signs and the second chance,’ she grieved, offering her signal flare to the sky, ‘All of it for nothing? I went through all of that just to snuff it?!’

After her moment of defiant denial and pouty self pity Jameela came to terms with her situation and sadly resigned to her fate. She closed her teary eyes and attempted to calm herself. She took a series of deep breaths trying to let herself slip into a meditative state. She sadly surmised that this would be the least painful and the most graceful way to meet her demise.

She tried to remain as still as possible. She could feel her body sinking with every little movement and was afraid to even blink. She could taste gooey grit on her lips. Only her partial face and her hand holding the flare remained above the bog’s surface. Her submergence was imminent.

Adding insult to injury a lone, brave tentacle began to swim up and swirl around Jameela’s neck from the depths of the pit.

‘Oh, fack off!’ swore Jameela, temperamentally plunging the flare into the muck, extinguishing it begrudgingly on the slithering submarine assailant. The resentful redhead put a little extra elbow grease into her strike, burying the burning beacon deep into tentacle tissue. The singed snaky tendril writhed violently from its trauma, rolling and splashing maniacally in the quicksand.

Jameela’s angry outburst set off a surge of movement under the surface of the bog. The miserable mud pit began to heave and swell, as if a giant balloon was inflating in its depths. The sunken jungle girl could hardly believe her senses as she felt herself rising up out of her trap. Looking down, Jameela saw her breasts, her hips then her thighs ascending from the quicksand. With her eyes and wide and her mouth agape in shock, she started to question this peculiar development, ‘What on earth…’

The pit exploded with a fury of filth covered, flailing, flinging tentacles. Heaps of moss and dirt and wet sand erupted into the air, along with a gobsmacked girl in leopard print garments.

‘UGH!!’ grunted the jettisoned jungle girl as she splash landed in the soft swamp soil on the edge of the bog. Mud rained around the glade from the boggy burst.

From the center of the quicksand pit arose a colossal creature, comprised of hundreds of swinging, slithering mud covered tentacles, whirling wildly as they slapped and splashed in its boggy basin. The central node of the monster was a shapeless mass of flesh with no distinguishable features besides a gruesome, gurgling, gaping maw. The malevolent mouth was lined with dozens and dozens of teeth-like tendrils, each squirming and swaying as its hideous flapping lips pursed and puckered.

The menacing monster was more than mad. It was incensed. It had taken exception to Jameela’s burning hot handshake and had ejected itself from its hideous habitat, hellbent on retribution. It launched a volley of tentacles at the jostled jungle girl still gathering her wits on the bank of the bog.

‘UHN! Get away from me!’ whimpered the frantic femme, kicking her legs rebelliously as the terrible tentacles trapped them.

As the enormous brute began to draw the helpless heroine toward it, the mouth flaps flopped open exposing a grotesquely gooey, gob-filled gullet. Jameela gasped at the horrendous sight of the beast’s menacing muscly muzzle.

‘This wasn’t supposed to be a dinner date!’ yelled the resisting redhead, as she dragged her hands uselessly in an attempt to stop being pulled into the gluttonous gargantuan gobbler. She clawed and pawed at anything that she could get her grip on. She even raked up items from the pack, including the treasure map, a jar of dried dates and… the second signal flare.

She frenetically fumbled with the cap when a giant tentacle wrapped around her, locking her arms to her waist and lifting her up in front of the dark, dank monster mouth cavity. The beast belched out the most irksome fumes as Jameela held her breath in disgust.

‘Bugger,’ whispered a helpless Jameela, close enough to the beast’s wide open maw that she could feel its hot, rancid drool oozing onto her bare legs. She knew she was done for.

A morning breeze provided a last second miracle as it rustled the forest canopy, allowing a few rays of direct sunlight to beam through the branches. Solar radiation peppered the entrapping tentacle around Jameela’s midsection like buckshot. The beast withdrew its stung arm, dropping its vulnerable victim as it ducked back into the shadows.

Still clutching the signal flare, Jameela took full advantage of her gifted opportunity by striking it with the cap. The tentacle monster blenched at the flash as the fiery flare sizzled to life.

‘Sorry, I don’t have a mint,’ jested Jameela, standing beautiful and bold as she airmailed a kiss to the amply armed abomination. The world famous red haired castaway cast away the flaming baton directly into the retreating beast’s gullet. Lacking vocal cords, the light loathing leviathan emitted a creepy clicking noise interpreted as agony while it launched itself urgently backward, out and down into the splattering, spraying quicksand.

The bog gurgled and churned chaotically, continuously expelling pockets of gas and air from the abyss through bursting bubbles and mini geysers at the surface. The beast was gone, back into the darkness of its hellhole of a home under the quicksand.

Jameela collapsed to her knees in the swampy sand and expelled air of her own in the form of a fatigued but relieved sigh. The sun was lurching over the haggard treetops in the Deep as she remained solemn and still for a long while. She marveled at her good fortune. She wasn’t sure how but somehow she had survived. A yawn followed another deep sigh as the reflective redhead felt the warmth of the sun’s beams caressing her sand covered cheek.

‘Good morning,’ offered Jameela with a pretty smile to the careened canvass pack, spotted hanging from a dead tree limb close by. It felt good to be alive, to be happy and healthy instead of horny and helpless.

However the doubtful damsel worried justifiably about her dangerous desire returning. The tentacle monster had exposed her to gallons and gallons of its gushing, seminal goo. Jameela was convinced it was an oozing aphrodisiac responsible for amplifying her already unstoppable sex drive. She feared another cripplingly crazy cum-lust was in her near future. The subtle yet certain hedonistic humming deep in her loins and the teensy, tantalizing tingling between her legs told her so.

‘I am unquenchable,’ lamented Jameela, accepting that she would once again have to face her ferocious, unrelenting urges. She knew she would be in for the fight of her life, until the effects of the tentacle monster’s toxic jizz subsided. The foreshadowing femme would have to deal with it itch by itch, one craving at a time, one sleepless night at a time.

At that moment the exhausted and famished jungle girl was doing more yawning than yearning and just wanted to go home to her cozy hanging treehouse bed.

The only things standing between Jameela and a lengthy session of wonderful, uninterrupted sleep were ‘this godforsaken bog,’ a bath and a breakfast banana or three…

[Jinn]

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The lion is often regarded as “King of the Jungle.” This monarchical moniker, like most royal designations of the modern age is purely ceremonial. In Africa, especially in the coastal rainforest of the British East Africa Protectorate, it was hunger that ruled supreme.

Hunger dictated the terms of survival. It established order. It empowered the predators. It thinned the herds. It fostered competition between foes… and friends. It created killers.

Everything had to eat, even the plants.
In turn insects at the plants; birds ate the insects; spiders ate the birds; mammals ate the spiders; reptiles ate the mammals; plants ate the reptiles… Yes, even the plants had to eat. The food chain in the East Africa jungle looked more like a web than a chain per se; it was a swirling, fluid cycle of perpetual consumption continuity where today’s predator was tomorrow’s prey.

All of this was governed by hunger. It was the one and only law of the land.

Jameela was hungry. She had pulled an all-nighter, off on some quixotic self-serving adventure that was supposed to quell her appetite for danger, among other “thirsts.” At that particular moment though her appetite was specifically honed in on a beautiful bunch of bananas, hanging perfectly ripe from a tree over her head.

‘I’m absolutely starving,’ whispered the famished femme to herself, licking her lips while strategizing how she was going to retrieve her breakfast from the bough.

The banana tree’s offerings had yet to be harvested, likely due to its location off the beaten path under the jungle canopy that kept it invisible. The tall, awkwardly placed tree branch yielding the fruit dared would-be climbers. Jameela considered standing under the branch and taking a whack at it with a stick, but the sandy soil beneath the tree was swampy and sketchy.

‘Up I go,’ resigned the jaunting jungle girl, before nimbly scaling the towering tree trunk. The agile young female easily climbed up and out on the branch adjacent to the stalk hosting the bunch. She straddled the limb and carefully reached over to the bananas.

‘These are going to taste yummy,’ smiled Jameela, as her fingertips grazed the greenish yellow skin of her morning meal. Her rumbling tummy concurred.

‘Uh oh,’ gasped Jameela, as her precarious perch began to dip. The branch supporting the pretty girl in leopard print garments began to buckle and crack. Unbeknownst to the hungry heroine, termites had systematically gutted her tree limb from the inside out, and the integrity of the hollow offshoot was compromised.

‘Down I go!’ jested Jameela humorously, moments before a loud snap was heard and the branch swung out from underneath her.

Falling always gave Jameela the sense that time was slowing down. To her, the tumble from the treetop felt like she was airborne for at least one rendition of “Hail Mary.” In actual fact her plummet of three meters was merely a fraction of a second.

A unpleasant ‘GBLWOP’ burped from the bog under the tree as Jameela’s slender, shapely legs plopped down into the pool of soupy, saturated sand.

‘Oh dear,’ peeped the mired maiden as she struggled in the shifting silt. Every movement she made resulted in gross squelching sounds and her long legs sinking deeper. She quickly surmised that the forgiving ground that broke her fall was forgiving for a reason, ‘This is quicksand!’

The trapped tree climber slogged and sloshed in the goop, fighting defiantly to try and free her sinking body from the creepy quagmire’s strong suction. ‘Ugh! It won’t let go!’ whimpered Jameela as the slurping slurry sucked down her sensual thighs, ‘it’s pulling me in!’ UHN!’

Gritty gunk gulped and gurgled around her gorgeous gooped gams. The jarring jungle girl was already exhausted before her plight, and her tired body was quickly growing weary from wiggling and writhing in the horrible sinking trap. She gasped as the quicksand emitted a grotesque gargle while it greedily engulfed her curvy hips.

‘I..I can’t free my legs! It’s so thick!’ lamented Jameela, plunging her arms down into the sucking sand to futilely tug at her trapped legs. Even her arms became mortally mired in the morass.

Deeper and deeper her trapped body descended into the awful ooze. ‘Oh! It’s got me!’ she cried, biting her lip poutingly. The quicksand’s grasp on the desperate damsel was stubbornly unrelenting. It puckered and pulled at her slim waist like a mauling mouth of muck. Jameela likened her sinking to being gluttonously gobbled by some terrible toothless terrorizer, ‘Ugh! This goo! It’s… it’s swallowing me!’

Moaning despairingly, Jameela heaved her limbs rebelliously in the bottomless swamp. Her breasts began to dip into the soaked sand just as she finally freed her fatigued, filth covered arms.

Jameela froze. Her eyes locked onto a reciprocating stare from the rainforest’s undergrowth. Two piercing feline orbs were sizing up the drowning redhead from the edge of the pit. The eyes belonged to a ferocious looking female lion. It lay motionless and eerily silent in the ferns as it inspected the girl sinking helplessly in the ghastly bog.

Stifling a scream, Jameela held her breath, afraid to make even the slightest movement. She guessed that the large predator wouldn’t dare pounce on her while she was trapped in quicksand, yet the cunning, killer cat crouched like it was about to attack.

It was suicide, thought Jameela. Only a dummy would take such a risk for a meal, and lions were not dummies. Nevertheless, the fearless feline’s body language screamed that it was preparing to unleash an assault.

The lion cranked itself back like the cocking hammer of a handgun. Liquid sand oozed over Jameela’s chest as she closed her eyes and tensed her muscles in anticipation.

The wild cat leapt into the air, sailed over and past the sinking jungle girl, burying its teeth and claws into a prowling python that had stealthily slithered down the dangling, broken banana tree limb. The momentum of the lion’s pounce sent it and the recoiling reptile tumbling into the brush beyond the pit. The sound of a vicious battle ensued in the undergrowth.

In the melee, the broken branch had completely separated from the tree trunk and splashed into the muck directly beside Jameela. Grateful and surprised, the fast moving female wasted zero time utilizing the gifted tree limb to extract her imperiled person from the sucking sand pit.

Jameela eyed the bushes nervously, half expecting one or the other of the predators to emerge and turn their sights on her while she was vulnerable. She labored herself out of the ooze, pumping and kicking her legs until they were free from the clutches of the sandy sludge. Slowly, the bogged beauty crawled to the safety of the pit’s edge.

The ferns in front of her rustled. The head of an enormous snake poked through the wide, green leafage. Jameela gasped. Following the snake head was the lion. Firmly in the cat’s jaws was the neck of the sacked serpent, which was gushing blood like a faucet.

It was the snake who had been the real threat. If that lion hadn’t been there, Jameela was certain she’d either be coiled up and crushed, or sucked down and drowned… or both. Perhaps if the snake wasn’t there, she’d have been a breakfast for the big cat. Or her and the lion might have both ended up being a bog’s brunch. Too many possible scenarios, Jameela thought. She was as dizzy with speculation as she was from fatigue and hunger.

The lion briefly made acknowledging eye contact with the rescued redhead before turning and disappearing into the rainforest, dragging along its massive, murdered prize python.

‘Queen of the Jungle,’ whispered Jameela admiringly and thankfully, as she knelt in the soft sand and watched the tail of the snuffed snake slip away into the East African wilderness.

Her tummy rumbled as if protesting her proclamation. Jameela still hadn’t eaten, and turned her gaze to the elusive and delicious looking banana bunch. ‘Up I go,’ giggled the jovial jungle girl, as her empty stomach beckoned her back up the tree. The lion may have been given the royal title, but in the jungle it was hunger that ruled supreme…

[Jinn]

I re-uploaded my story/image posts that went missing after the snap, plus this latest one about vacation planning…

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Saeya would come to regret her carefree wanderlust not long after her dainty and delicate steps took her from the tranquility and relative safety of her ancestral territory.

Ever since Saeya had blossomed into a beautiful, young elven woman her heart had been set on exploring. The temptation to experience the outside world had been too enticing for the wide eyed, wondrous wood elf. Her curiosity of the lands beyond the Whispering Woods had beckoned the daring damsel to at long last set out to see them for herself. The naive young nymph had paid no mind to the warnings of her kinfolk, who tried to dissuade her from chasing such an aimless adventure beyond their realm.

The ill-prepared elf’s veil of blissful ignorance was about to be torn deviously and disastrously away.

The massive woodland around her known as Bloodwood Forest began to take on darker, more sinister aspects the further she ventured from her homeland. The air became colder, the ambience turned hauntingly heavy and the way ahead looked eerily uninviting.

The trail itself became more treacherous, offering up slippery slopes, perilous potholes, villainous vines and rugged roots that seemed to spitefully slip up the oblivious elf as she stumblingly skipped along.

Ominous overhanging oaks and elms seemed to loom and lurch maliciously over Saeya, as the tiny traveler pranced precariously down the tree lined path.

As she friskily frolicked through the forest the playful pixie’s tingling elven intuition suddenly sent the hairs on her neck standing on end. A motion in her peripheral stopped her dead in her tracks. Saeya turned slowly to face the shadowy threat manifesting in her midst. Her heart began to race.

‘You’re quite far from your clan’s cozy little cottages, elf,’ regarded a baleful looking hooded human, flanked by a pair of ferocious looking timberwolves lurking in the dark shadows of Bloodwood.

The beasts snarled and growled threateningly at the nervous nymph, until their male master subdued them with a hand gesture. The pack and their patriarch slowly stepped toward the timid traveler.

‘I..I am not lost, if that is what you are insinuating,’ rebutted the startled, standoffish young wood elf, taking a defensive posture, ‘Kindly keep your hounds at a distance, sir.’

‘You’re in no position to do much about it if I don’t,’ suggested the tall, cloaked woodsman. The innocent elven adventurer foolishly overlooked the necessity of carrying any weapons on her journey and the hooded hunter took notice, ‘I’d bet you haven’t so much as a dagger tucked away in those snug little silks.’ The menacing man ogled the pretty elf girl’s exposed, milky white thighs, trim tummy and supple cleavage that were not at all concealed by her camouflage cloak and tight fitting, custom clothing.

Saeya began to feel vulnerable. She could sense the hunter’s leering eyes surveying her alluring young body. She rightly assumed that his bad intention wasn’t the only thing of his that was growing at that moment. ‘I am quite capable of looking after myself in these woods, sir,’ bluffed the benign beauty, backing up slowly and considering her escape options.

‘Are you though?’ debated the hawkish hunter. He grinned deviously as a third wicked wolf appeared behind the uneasy elf on the trail. The conniving canine gnashed its teeth and barked at the gasping girl who was completely caught off guard, and scared out of her wits.

‘Please sir,’ begged a surrounded Saeya, her anxious knees trembling as the tridem of timberwolves corralled her, ‘Leave me be!’

‘Sir?’ questioned the hunter, as he produced a pair of wrist irons from somewhere inside his cloak, ‘You keep calling me that. I don’t recall being knighted.’ The menacing man began to laugh as he opened the rusty restraints and approached the whimpering wood elf.

The unexpected nasally drone of a goblin hunting horn echoed forebodingly through the trees. The bellowing blow signaled the arrival of a malignity of malevolent marauders. Saeya, the hunter and his heinous hounds all perked their ears and turned their heads in the direction of the hailing hellish horde.

Saeya knew this was her one and only opportunity. Her adversaries were preoccupied and their attention was for maybe a few precious seconds not on her. She darted off into the trees like a jumpy jackrabbit, hastily hopping over hedges and scurrying her skinny little legs around the scattered stones and sprouting saplings of the undergrowth.

By the time the woodsman and his wolves could discern her escape, Saeya had vanished like a ghost into Bloodwood’s botanical underbelly.

The wolves smelled the ground and followed the frightened elf’s scent in the air, preparing to give chase. ‘Copii… înceta,’ commanded the hunter. The dangerous dogs ceased their rally and stood idly by, eager for their next instruction.

The hunter weighed the situation carefully, looking in the direction that the elusive elf had fled, then back at the ridge where some of the goblin troop were now visible. ‘Urmați-mă,’ he assigned, as the dogs and their delegator dispersed into the trees like smoke on the wind.

A pair of ghastly goblins had separated from the main hunting party after bearing witness to Saeya’s botched abduction. They watched as the anxious elf sped wildly through the woods hoping to shake her would-be kidnapper. The devious duo knew they’d have a better chance of nabbing the fleeing female than going head to head with a human and three large killer canines. They licked their rancid chops as they pursued their pretty prey, imagining all the rape and roast recipes they could use her fresh, young body for.

After running a solid kilometer, Saeya glanced back to make sure the wolves and the woodsman weren’t trailing her. She gasped when she caught notice of the tandem of greedy goblins hot on her heels. At that point she realized that there was no sense in doing anything else but running away, as fast as her elegant elven legs could carry her. The corrosive creatures stalking her had no interest in dealing or dialogue. Their deranged, wide eyed glares and frothing drool stringing from the sides of their morbid maws foretold of their violent intentions.

Saeya could hardly see through the frightened tears streaming from her eyes. She was too winded to wail. She could hear the murderous monsters grunting and snorting close behind as she dashed through dark woods. At one point a razor sharp hatchet sailed over her shoulder and struck a tree ahead of her. The fretful Saeya was most definitely within the goblins’ kill zone.

The sun shone through the foggy forest further ahead, in the open dale of a dried up riverbed. Saeya dared not stop, let alone slow down to check the pace of her putrid pursuers. As she ran out into the clearing, her lungs were spent and her tired legs began to fail her. ‘This is it,’ she panted, fully expecting the gnarly goblins to overrun and ravage her. The goblins did no such thing. The devilish dyad had halted their hunt, breathing heavily at the edge of the glade while watching the weepy young woman stumble out into the sopping sand.

‘Why have they ceased?’ queried the winded wood elf, allowing herself a moment of rest. The saturated silt of the riverbed immediately yielded her answer. The gritty ground beneath Saeya had started to liquify and her exhausted legs abruptly began to sink into it.

Saeya gasped as she fought to keep her fatigued figure balanced in the shifting sand. ‘I..I am sinking!’ she despairingly discovered, as the syrupy soil sucked down her slender, struggling legs, ‘I am mired! (GASP) Quicksand! It draws my legs deeper still!’

The wretched riverbed acknowledged Saeya’s revelation with a series of unpleasant, belchy burps and gobbling gurgles. She desperately pumped her long legs in the muck, an effort that created awful squelching sounds. The unforgiving suction of the swampy sand held her fast, and rewarded her struggling by sucking her legs deeper with every movement. The desperate elven female tried in vain to pull out her stuck calves from the grainy grip of the quagmire using her arms, but it achieved the same result; Saeya was trapped and slowly sinking to her doom in a gravely grave of inescapable quicksand.

Panic flooded into her psyche as her pulse quickened and her body writhed. Slurping sand oozed itself unabatedly around her thighs as they slipped into the loose, liquefied riverbed.

The goblins were gone. They had completely abandoned their quest and had sauntered off to realign with their mobile malignity. Their victim was too far out into the soft sand to safely extract. The goblins often took idiotic risks when they were hungry and horny, but even the most daft of the devils knew suicide wouldn’t satiate. Besides of which their competition had since crept into the clearing’s perimeter.

‘My, my,’ whispered the hunter to his pack of predators at the edge of remorseless riverbed, ‘The poor thing has got herself stuck in that soup.’ One of the wolves whined with frustration. Even the determined dogs dared not gamble with the gritty goo that was swallowing sweet Saeya.

The helpless elf intently struggled and squirmed as she sank, even though the product of her protest was a more rapid descent into the hungry quicksand.

The watchful woodsman digested the damsel’s dilemma with delight. He enjoyed every second of the sights before him. He found the poor girl’s plight to be intoxicatingly arousing. The hunter relished the view of the sinking girl’s skirt and cloak fanning out over the surface of the silty sludge. He observed with fiendish fervor the wet sand clinging and climbing up the bare feminine flesh of Saeya’s flat abdomen. He was transfixed with the seductive imagery of her supple breasts heaving and dipping into the ever-engulfing morass. He lusted the way her slender arms fought the grabby suction of the sand while she poutingly twisted and turned.

An antsy wolf whined at its master as if to shake the hypnotized human from his trance. ‘Right,’ he responded to the prompt, unhooking a length of rope from a belt under his cloak.

Saeya had been too busy trying to escape her enveloping adversary to notice the hunter tossing a broken tree branch out to her in the sinky sand. The separated limb was attached to one end of the hunter’s rope, with him holding the other end from the edge of the ravenous riverbed.

The apprehensive elf stared atrabiliously at the hunter, then at his lifeline offering. She shook her head without speaking. Saeya was torn between being rescued and enslaved by this sadistic snatcher, or resigning to the horrific fate of drowning in a slurping sand bog. Both choices would subject her to terrifyingly torturous demises, she thought. However surrendering to the hunter may foster opportunities to escape, and survive.

‘You’ll die badly if you don’t,’ warned the less than compassionate man from under his dark cloak, ‘C’mon princess, don’t be sassy.’

Saeya bit her lip. The quicksand had gulped down her chest as was flowing in around her neck. Her braids were becoming saturated with sand. There was no bottom and no time. The submissive elf wept defeatedly as she grabbed onto the branch and let the hunter pull her hopeless body from certain death.

At the edge of the sand, the encircling wolves growled and snarled around the mired maiden as the hunter hauled her onto solid ground. Totally drained and entirely unable to flee or fight, Saeya remained kneeling with her head down in shame as she humbly submitted to her captor.

The hunter easily hoisted the tiny elf girl up off the ground with one arm. He accepted her surrender by placing an iron choker around her neck, affixed with a long chain wrapped around the man’s huge hand at the other end. ‘UGN!’ whimpered the captured elven lass as her abductor meanly man handled her. The hulking human was thrice the size of the itty bitty elf, yet he placed her thin wrists in the restraints with unnecessary aggression after roughly wrangling her arms behind her back. The manly mauling caused her to moan despondently.

‘Pouting won’t save you,’ he snapped, liberally feeling up Saeya’s silky smooth legs and her pretty little ass under her skirt. ‘You’ll fetch a premium bid at the “maiden” market,’ he groaned, groping the girl gruesomely. The touchy trapper helped himself to clawfuls of his brand new slave girl’s plush and perky young tits as she repulsed in disgust. ‘Or maybe I’ll just keep you for myself.’ he grimly foreshadowed, as the wolves began to grow agitated.

The hissing and howling of approaching goblins was echoing through the trees. The malignity was returning en masse to the riverbed. The hunter signaled for his pack of prowlers to get moving. He prompted his pretty powerless prisoner to do the same with a subtle yank of the chain attached to her confining collar.

The defeated young wood elf stumbled sadly behind her new master as they vacated the vicinity. Clumps of sand rolled down her lethargic legs as she clumsily coat tailed her captor; a reminder of the alternate fate that she could have succumbed to. As the hunter lead his delicious new prize down the dark tree covered trail in the bowels of Bloodwood Forest, Saeya’s future was shrouded with scary uncertainty. At that moment the shackled, captive elven girl knew only one absolute; the hunter and his animal entourage were most definitely not taking her back to her homeland’s cozy little cottages…

[duuudeization]

Dude! You make me late for work... Yowza!