Quicksand Fans

Author's Note: So I decided to try something cool with my writing this time. No, the quicksand isn't made of lava, or web, or enchanted stuff, no, I took a twist in a different way. Also, there isn't a full submersion, or anything close to that, but I wanted to make the story feel real, without putting in anything that would say it's from our world or somewhere else.

If you want me to write more of this unknown first person character, just say so, and I'll definitely see what I can do. Without further ado, let us begin.

I was walking through the woods, like any other day I would do so. My bare, callused feet felt every colorless twig and colorless blade of grass below. The birds chirped their beautiful song, despite me not knowing what color they were. The wind breezes through my waist length hair. Colorless hair, soft, smooth, and straight, but for all I knew, it could be blonde, brunette, or even red, but I doubt it was red because then my skin would burn up from the sun. However, others told me it was brown, whatever that meant.

After a long hard day, I heard the rushing of the river, and headed towards it for some relaxation. I knew I was going the right way when the ground got softer and the water got louder. The soft squishy ground was a nice change for what it normally was, so I continued onward, unaware that ahead of me was a clearing that I never explored before.

After a few soft and squishy steps of paradise, I place my foot into what seemed like bread dough, the foot falling into and being constricted by the billowy ground itself, the muck slurping as I fell forward, fear filling my split second thoughts. Trying to get my balance, which for my condition, was somewhat hard to do sometimes, I placed my left foot into the soft and squishy muck to balance, right up to my ankles.

Any other person would have said they were trapped, but due to my heightened senses, I could tell there was a lot of weight spread out across the surface of the ground, along with the suction of the mud, holding my feet in place. I could feel each individual grain in the mud, in a fluid state, pressing against my feet like trillions of tiny fingers, eager to grab me and pull me down.

The force of gravity was also at work, as I could feel my body being pulled down ever so slowly, billions of grains of wet mud inching up my ankles as the wind blew through the colorless trees. At the moment, I was indifferent to it, just stuck. Any force I applied to one foot to pull it out immediately caused an equal force to drag the other one deeper. Experimenting with micro movements, I found that going back and forth was counterproductive.

I thought for a moment which leg had more strength. I assumed it to be my right leg. I kneeled down on my left leg, spreading out my weight to get better balance, and just focused on getting my right leg out. To balance, I placed my hands into the muck, the slimy grip screaming all over my palms and wrists. Not necessarily in a bad way, it felt alright. The pressure of the mud felt enjoyable though.

This was not without incessant squishing, the smell of mud being flung heavily into the air due to my movements, and my mouth tasting the sweat dripping from my face onto my lip in my world without color. It wasn't a lot of sweat, but due to being sensitive, this amount of sweat was very noticeable.

Slow and steady wins the race, as my leg was slowly being pulled out of the heavy thick sludge. This mud had to have some percent of its makeup made up of clay, that much was certain. Maybe it was clay. When everything lacks color and just black everywhere, you can't really tell difference between different materials that just felt the same.

At least, I assume what I could see was black, as that's what others described it as. Honestly, I could sorta see, not with my eyes, but more with my ears. I didn't have perfect 20/20 vision with my ears, but based on how echoey a room was, or the lack thereof, down the tiniest detail, I could slightly avoid walking into walls. Walking into flat ground that turned out to be mud, however, isn't really avoidable when you can't rely on your eyes.

As these thoughts repeated themselves over in my head, I could feel my right leg making progress on making it out, the hot sun beating onto my hair as my left leg on its knee sunk enough that my shorts soaked into the mud, the fabric being muddied and clinging to my skin being very apparent and easily sensed by body.

The lack of vision wasn't the only thing that stimulated my sense. I also had autism. Which meant, every tap on my skin was a slam, every scratch a screech, the smell of poop being a sewer, and any spicy foods were just ghost peppers in my mind.

As for actual versions of those things, slams, screeches, sewers, and ghost peppers, they could cause something known as sensory overload, especially considering my lack of vision made it multiply those senses even more. So getting stuck in some mud, while for you it may feel like just being stuck, but not very much, for me, it felt as though I was grabbed and trapped in a vice bondage from the mud, escape feeling like insane amounts of effort was required to escape.

I'm not saying that neurotypical people, or people without autism, could escape easier, but rather that I felt everything more intensely, as compared to my peers. I remember one time someone asked me how many fingers they were holding up, and I just grabbed their hand, felt it, and told them 3 fingers were up. They paused, thinking I was cheating, but definitely believed that my eyesight showed nothing but black.

That was a pretty funny experience, to be fair. It just reminds me of-

PLOP!

I felt my foot pop out as I was lost in my thoughts, and almost lost my balance. My left foot was up to it’s mid thigh, approximately halfway between my knee and my waist, the soaking mud clinging to my colorless shorts. With a floating foot, the birds chirping was an omen that I was going to be free soon. Or at least, that's what I believed. With my hovering foot, I reached behind me, and instead of trying to use my foot, which was upside down, I had the clever idea of using my shin, or the part of the leg between the foot and the knee, to get steady, and pull my left leg out once I finally caught my breath. Or stopped thinking, more likely than not.

Breathing deeply, my body seemed to stabilize a little. My left leg was still sinking, the mud up 2/3rd of the way to my elbows, between my hands and elbows. However, my right leg wasn't sinking at all, just sitting in soft ground. Having stable ground, and not just bottomless slime, I attempted to pull my arms out, the muck slowly relinquishing it’s prize. And indeed, because I could not perceive the bottom, it was indeed seen as bottomless. Not to say that it went to the center of the planet, but that the bottom was not discovered, so it was without a bottom; it was bottomless.

I tried to be careful pulling my arms out as to not put more pressure on my left leg, as it was already pretty stuck, and forcing it deeper wasn't ideal to me. I was supposed to be resting, but I was just taking my arms out first, the cool summer breeze rustling my hair just as much as the leaves on the trees. The sucking at my arms as I slowly squeezed them out of the muck was somewhat enjoyable, but that wasn't my focus right now.

My wrists were out, then I fell back a bit with my torso and my hands landed on the ground to my right. Soft, but solid ground. I tested as I pondered on other things. For my vision being black, I did see the black taking on different blobby appearances. Scientists called them phosphenes, others more skilled in auras called them chakras. Did they have color? I didn't know what that was, so I couldn't describe what it was. For what I was told, it just looked “black” to me, whatever black was. I was just told that black was what I saw. Regardless, it was just a bunch of nothing that told me nothing of my environment, so I didn't really pay attention to it. Only when I was bored.

With my hands supporting my weight to the right of my torso, I lifted my right arms and started doodling mud onto my left arm. This was relaxing. Even if I didn't get to swim and wash off my sweat right now, this mud wasn't half bad. Stuck, yes, but this was nice, like mud yoga, if such a thing existed. They should honestly make mud yoga, that would be fun. They could use mud instead of bean bags for those parts they needed to weigh you down somewhere, except a light bean bag would still cover your eyes. That would be so nice-

An electrical feeling instantly shocked through my body originating from my groin as the mud touched there. More of a sexual feeling, but those seemed pretty similar. I was stunned from what just happened, as the mud touched my groin. A bit invasive, but seeing as no one was around, or just no one making noise or smells or vibrations, I felt secluded enough to explore this feeling. So I did the thing you aren't supposed to do in deep mud, and that was pushing down. Which was followed by pushing up. My shorts were kinda in the way, but humping against solid yet fluid ground was more enjoyable than I ever expected it to be. Maybe if I escaped, I could strip down, and enjoy it better?

The problem was, I was still stuck, and now the muck was luring me in. Sighing, I decided I had enough of it for now, and needed to escape if I wanted to strip down to enjoy it better. I pulled on my left leg, and pointed it downward instead of keeping it in the half kneeled down position. This way, I could exert less force pulling it out. However, in doing so, I learned the mud was deeper than waist deep. Still bottomless to me.

Exerting force to escape was very tiring. I tried to get more horizontal to escape. I was probably gonna be a mess by the time I got out, but I couldn't see that, only others. To me, I was just a colorless blob with bones to keep it together, with some clothes and hair, and other stuff. My callused feet were as such since it helped me to perceive when I walked barefoot. Yes, it hurt when I stepped on a sharp rock, but the more that happened, the less it hurt.

I pulled on my leg, it was just at the knee now, and was more horizontal than before. The slurping and sucking, the smell of the mire, the hot breeze, the sun setting, of which I knew was happening due to the temperature getting colder and my internal clock keeping track of that.

SHHHHLLLLLLLLLL-URP!

My leg was free. I backed away from that spot, as to not get trapped again, but kept mental detail as to where this was generally. I was muddy and tired, and decided to go home.

Would I return? Perhaps, if I felt incentivized enough to. I definitely wanted to try sinking into naked if that was an option.


Author's note: If you couldn't tell by now, she is blind. And don't forget to tell me if you want me to make more!

-Solrex

I’m down for more.

Maybe another chapter is in order...

Neat concept and cool read. Would be down for more as well

An intriguing story, Solrex. I especially appreciated how the girl had to interpret what was happening to her by means other than sight. Years ago I saw a 1948 film called "Miraculous Journey" in which an envious woman, "Patricia" leads a blind woman, "Mary" into the jungle and abandons her in front of a quicksand pit in the hope that Mary will fall in and sink to her doom so that Patricia can have Mary's boyfriend. The lighting is not very good, washed out in spots, but Mary does sink rather deep. Aside from the element of a blind woman being led to quicksand, however, the sinking scene does not concentrate upon her experience of sinking while blind but as a standard damsel-in-distress scene. The sequence leading to the sinking scene starts at the 57:41 mark, and here's a link to the movie: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NS5-P7I6fUk

Author's note: so yeah, I had 90% of this done for a while, however, I just lacked the willpower to finish it. For one, me and my girlfriend had decided to stop jerking off, or at least attempt to, until we got married. Add in the fact that I was at a rather tedious part in the story, and I just didn't feel like finishing it.

However, today I was playing a permadeath game, Realm of the Mad God, and my character had a sudden death that was out of the blue and unexpected. So, frustrated, instead of going back to the game, I decided to come finish this second part.

Even if I choose to go and stop my negative habits, I'm not going to go delete my stories. For one, that's rather pointless, someone has them saved somewhere, it's the internet, and for two, honestly, it's on a website about quicksand fetishism. If someone is on this site, I'm not leading them to commit wrongdoing, they already had the intention of being aroused by coming to this site.

So even if I were to quit jerking off cold turkey, which is impossible, but if I did, I'd still leave my stories up for people to enjoy. If God deems it unholy, then he could just destroy it in the second coming, whenever that is.

Regardless, that little mini rant over, I had fun writing this part of the story. From realizing trees rustle in the wind (never wrote that part down...) to literally walking out of class during the break, finding a secluded place, and mimicking the roll that my character does at the end to write it better. I can remember several times of me doing various position on my memory foam mattress bed to try and see how my character would move, and I felt I had a lot of attention to detail.

Should I take this in a fantasy route? Maybe, maybe not, I think it would be cool for her spark to ignite while she's in quicksand if I decide to take a Magic: The Gathering twist on this. Who knows.

Anyways, end-rant, I hope you all enjoy, tell me what you think of the story as a whole so far once you read this part. Enjoy!

The following day, I returned. I had a bag with me to contain my clothes in. I must have walked the path a thousand times in my dreams, since I knew exactly where to go. It was a beautiful day today, the sun was shining, and the flowers were blooming, their scents infiltrating my nose. Listening carefully, clicking a bit to look at my surroundings, I made sure I was alone.

Once I realized I was truly alone, I pulled my colorless shirt up above my head, threading it through my long hair, then placing it within my bag. My bra followed, my B cup boobs jiggling in the wind. It tickled a little. Following that, my muddied shorts from yesterday were stripped off, the wind reminding my bare flesh that clothes did not adorn it, almost as if warning me and asking me if I wanted to continue.

The answer was obviously yes. Last, but certainly not least, I removed my panties, and placed them in the bag. Being super careful, I found a tree, and hung my bag on it, tying it off with the straps. I then fell down to my stomach intentionally, feeling the moist ground scruff against my bare naked body, and I tried to locate where the ground became liquid. Figuring out the relative location of the mud pit, I stood up, backed up, and took a running jump in.

My colorless hair glistened in the wind as I felt it tickle my bum. Freedom. That sensation was going to be gone for the next hour or so. I landed on some ground, which, like yesterday, was almost solid for a second, but then engulfed up my legs like bread dough, sucking them under and feeling my legs with each individual grain, grabbing and pulling me under. I was up to my thighs in this thick colorless stuff, that held me with no qualms of holding me tight and dear.

Playfully, I tried to turn around, but my legs were completely stuck. Remembering what I did yesterday, I pumped my legs, the squishing sounds sucking at my eardrums, the captivity of my bondage tight, and my sexual tension very high. I could feel my vagina hovering just inches above the quicksand, and I was extremely excited for the next few moments, humping my butt as to try to sink myself deeper. My hair briefly tickled my back before touching the quicksand, and getting caught under my butt. This put strain on my head, so I pulled my hair out from there.

I felt so close, I could feel my vagina starting to presoak. I quivered in anticipation, the thick sucking lips of the mire slowly sucking me closer and closer to-

“GAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!” I screamed as I touched the muck with my vagina. Birds scattered after my scream, cawing as they flew away and created a draft. I started soaking quite quickly, and the quicksand invaded my precious place, causing a feremonic smell to occur, mixed with the earthly scent of the mud, mixed with the electricity of sex. I pulled against it, but the equal reaction just sucked me back into it, the muck devouring my insides, just like I imagined, but twenty-four times better.

It dredged up some memories. ‘Sex? What are you, a whore? Learn to love other things, my dear.’ They teased me for having a strong sexual drive. They told me that a person that could not see would never find a sexual partner, because no one wanted to screw around with blind people. It brought tears to my mind. Not sad tears, but happy repressed tears.

Because now I was screwing mud in the most sensual way possible, being swallowed up, and pleasured into infinite delight. I didn't know how real sex was, but this seemed as though it was way better than a man entering me only at one spot. I was extremely pleased, pleasured beyond expectation.

Subconsciously driving my hands into the muck, blindly, of course, I felt the slucky feeling of the grimy bog taking hold of my hands and going up to my elbows, every grain pressing against them and not letting them go. Following that, my body used this support to just thrust with all my my might into the sucking bog, causing me to quiver and shake, losing sense of my delicate senses that showed me my surroundings, and all I felt was the sludge against my bare hot skin.

The pleasure built up so strongly that I just collapsed into the bog, my head hovering inches above the bog as my mind rebooted, my bones vibrating in pleasure.

‘Whore!’

As I stumbled about, becoming conscious again, I saw my position in the bog. Bent over, up to my neck in the bog. I tried to move, and it was like pressing against a soft brick wall. Moving my head around, I felt my hair was scattered across the surface. I pushed against the bog, using false might, only to feel the wonderful pushback of the bog, slurps continuing to give a play-by-play of my actions. As my brain fully woke up, I jolted awake, shocked, as I was trapped, and helpless. I attempted to flail, but was held fast. I slowly pulled against the bog, just trying to free my arms, and as I felt the muck crawling up my neck like thousands of pleasure ants, my arms slowly got more and more free. As the muck touched my chin, I froze, scared, cold, and aroused. After about a minute of frozen action, I noticed myself slowly bob upward, and I could feel myself return to buoyancy.

As my arms drifted to their previous position, I stopped them, and kept them at the same height as I rose. Once I reach about my armpits, I pulled on them again, the sucking muck slurping at my arms with gooey sounds, my arms feeling intense pleasure of sucking on them. I felt like someone else would have just given up.

Then, I had an idea! Once I got my arms out, since I floated, I wanted to submerge! That would be amazing! I then focused on my arms. As I pulled, I was viscously sucked deeper. Seeing as my arms were almost out, when the mud sucked at my chin, I titled my head back, faced up, and pulled. Just as my arms popped free, the mud approached my chin again, and I started jiggling side to side to sink more, but then I decided to hump back and forth instead to sink myself. Resting my arms horizontally on the surface, letting them sink slightly, I felt my body churning up a burning within myself, as both exhaustion and arousal rose.

Sluuuurp, silence. My heartbeat, beating in my ears.

My ears went under the surface, and a horrifying shock filled my body. I was never able to see, and my ears did that job instead. Losing my ears completely, even if temporary, made my colorless world instantly go blank. My pseudo-radar vision and imagining just disappeared instantly, and I was in audio darkness. This did not stop my arousal, it actually did the opposite.

As I started to rise after freezing up again, I started humping my way back down, wanting to fully submerge. I close my eyes, just as I would when going underwater. Listening carefully, I actually heard, somewhat like in slow motion, a squish squish, squish squish, and I realized that was me.

As I realized that, my vision started to come back. I could see my own body, and I felt no bottom below me for quite some distance. There was a bottom, but wow, it had to be, like, if I was 5 feet tall, that had to be 20 feet at least. I moaned in arousal and fear. Would you call that fearousal-

“-Mmmmmmph”

My mouth went under just as I started to moan, a bit of mud in my mouth. I honestly should have floated back up to breathe, but I was very aroused, and wanted to submerge. It also was completely blinding to stop moving in this expansive slow motion world. Then my nose went under, my arms just 2/3rds sunk into the muck, my hair fanned across the surface. Letting myself sink about an inch or two more, then orgasming again. I froze.

Blind. Deaf. Gelatinous goo hugging me from every angle, every single little grain pushing against me. Momentary bliss. This was amazing. Better than anything that I could have imagi-

A crack. Not physical, well, sort of. At the center of my chest, my lungs heaved and begged for air. I jerked slightly at the pain, that slowly grew. I started losing feeling in my arms and legs, which really scared me, causing micro-jerks that dragged me down.

The scar of pain in my lungs continued, and I felt my body turning off. Scared, I used my backup plan. If this didn't work, I would drown before I surfaced. I-

Arms. Swing. Down.

Push. Me. Up.

Surface.

Not.

There.

Passing.

Out-

AIR!!!!

HOLY CRAP!!! AIR! I greedily sucked in that gaseous nectar of life, before coughing on the muck in my mouth. I spat that goop out fast, and despite the burning in my lungs from a loose grain, I sucked in that oxygen. Flames, burning, oxygen, my body was flooded with a head rush.

Despite the muck pouring out of my ears, my head rolled around in circles as not even my amazing ears could tell which way was up. As my mind cleared, I felt feeling return to my nerves, as I felt everything return, I swore for a split second I saw color, but then again, it was just a false thought. I didn't know what color looked like.

That was intense. I just- I could have died. How was I so careless! But- it was freaking awesome! Those were some of my strongest orgasms I had ever had. My bones were still vibrating, even though I only just noticed that.

My nerves and lungs definitely felt some damage, but it would heal. It was worth it all, just- I didn't want to repeat that for at least a month or so… maybe 2 weeks. 3? 2.5. Wait, how do you split 7 into 2? Would that be 2 week and 3 days? 4 days? Screw it, let's just take 5 days and call it healed.

Now, time to escape.

After a self analysis, I found my arms glued to my sides. Trying to move them started sinking me, and they didn't move at all! They felt sucked at my sides, a vacuum between my arms and my sides of my torso.

This pressure was amazing. So relaxing, such a good reward. I continued pressing to try to escape-

CHIN!

I stopped, scared deathless. I was up to my chin, and flashbacks flushed through my body in the most traumatizing way, as if I was going through a war again. This might have been post traumatic stress disorder, and it scared me senseless. As I floated back up, I breathed heavily, starting to bob as I became buoyant again. Up to my armpits, arms glued to my sides again. I was trapped. My heavy breathing filled my voice, with an occasional cough of me trying to empty out the silt I inhaled earlier.

I went into problem solving mode. Think… arms, they could help me escape, but they were stuck. However, I was floating, how did people escape quicksand? Quicksand, that's what this was. Not actually that scary, to be fair. Floating, sinking, arms…

What if I floated on my back? I titled my shoulders and head back, away from what I assumed were trees, and towards my entry point. I let my head sink about 3/4ths of the way into the bog, a bit scared of submerging, but feeling the buoyant force acting on my chest. Pushing on my back, pulling on my ribs. Yet, it was slow. Very very slow.

This was going to take some time, so I decided to think upon my past. ‘A blind person? You would have to be blind to fall for you!’ Huh, could mud see? ‘You want someone to tie you up? Really? No one’s going to do that, and no one will love you like that’

No one, that may be true, but not anything, well, I think I found the loophole. This mud loves me very much. It wasn't a person, a person with prejudice and opinions, it was just Mother Nature. It was literally a hug machine from Mother Nature.

OH! My ears just slipped below the surface as my body was adjusting, but I was still floating. Now deaf again. Well, I had to get used to that.

You know, whenever I talked to someone, they sometimes asked what I said, but for me, I almost never ask that. My hearing is beyond great, and I can usually hear what people say. It was a talent of mine that sometimes got me into trouble.

‘Eavesdropping? Do I need to make you deaf as well? Will you mind your own business then?’ My mother’s words left a very abusive and emotional scar on my mind, and I couldn't stop thinking them over. How could my mother, the person that brought me into this world, hate me so much? Sometimes it was better to close off the heart.

If my mother saw me now, I could almost imagine what she would say to me. ‘Naked in the bog? Really… well, filth attracts filth, it makes sense that you would try to attract an inanimate heap of filth rather than some animated heap of filth, it can't fight back!’

I pondered on my life. I was actually pretty decent at reading with my fingers, and talking, but as for writing, I wished there was a way. I have such a creative mind, but- I- it didn't matter.

Jobs, could I make a job out of sinking into mud? Probably not. Maybe if I did it naked, I could- NO, I was not going to be a harlot! The mud felt nice, maybe I could sell mud baths? Except, I can barely escape myself, that's a far out fantasy that I could save others.

Mud massages. That might be going somewhere. Clay sculpting? Perhaps. I wouldn't be good at painting it, but I could feel for the perfect shapes for my art.

Art, that seemed nice, touch based art.

Examining myself, I found that my chest had risen a little, and that my arms were closer to the surface. Focusing on my arms, I pulled my right arm above the surface, a muffled slurp echoing into the muck as I dipped into the bog with just my nose above the surface. I waited.

As I rose to the surface with my arm dangling above the surface, I placed my hand on my chest and focused on relaxing back to the surface. My legs were still vertical, and I was incapable of moving them, for now.

I focused on my left arm, and, taking a breath, pulled my arm from its gooey prison, causing my head to sink just up to the nose again, and I relaxed. Thinking cleverly, I stretched my arms out to get more buoyancy across my body, and let my mind go wild as my body relaxed.

Massaging people would be nice, being able learn their exact shape and having a professional reason to do so. And making people feel good from my talents would feel good on the inside. Unlike how my mother made me feel.

My father was actually rather kind, he was the other side of the coin. He was kind and loving, and was probably the only reason I survived with my mother around. He got me on a date once, it was a nice date, but-

My mother. My dumb mother! She scared him away. I HATE her. How could she possibly think making me more miserable would solve my condition? It wouldn't, it would only worsen my situation. She must absolutely hate me.

As my body was up to my waist in floating, but my legs slowly moving, I just focused on floating my feet up, without struggling or pushing. Once my legs finally made their way up, after a long pause, I floated on the surface of the mud. It was nice, calm, and serene. My ears were still under the surface, leaving me pretty much blind for hearing my surroundings.

Lifting my head up gingerly, as I sunk slight in reaction, I clicked my tongue to just examine my surroundings. Once the mud dripped out of my ears, I could visibly hear my environment. I was pretty far out into the quicksand, so that was something I would have to work with.

Planning out my escape, I knew I had to travel backwards. If I rolled, I could probably use the surface tension to just roll out of here. The only problem is the exit to this pit was behind me. In front of me, and to both sides, there was pillars, probably trees. Pass the trees was the beach of the river. Probably a good place to wash up, provided there wasn't more quicksand over there.

So as I rolled, I had to pivot 90° to avoid running into a tree. Right, so I had to do this perfectly. Tension built up within me, and I felt anxious about performing this technique. I decided I would rotate in 45° increments, 2 of them, per roll, before just rolling all the way to dry ground. That meant 22.5 degree rolls per half roll. Right.

Breathing deeply, bobbing slightly, I went over the roll several times mentally, but physically, I only got one physical chance to do it, and if I screwed up, I would have to escape all over again, or drown if my head got submerged. Was there a better way? Could I swim out?

Swimming wasn't an option, I didn't know how to swim in mud. Breathing deeply again and again, I went over it one more time. 45, 45, spin to ground. Alright. Moment of truth. I held my breath to hold more oxygen in me as I started performing the maneuver as to be more floaty.

Whipping my legs to my left, at a 22.5 degree angle, flipping my body as my face, with my closed eyes and body bouncing onto the ground, I turned again, face up, muck bouncing all around me. Continuing the motion, I was back on my face, and I did one more 22.5 degree angle turn. Following that, I rolled with a burning vigor of freedom and escape to solid ground, bouncing across the bog and cutting parts of my bare muddy skin on various rocks, some of them even sticking to the mud on me, while the ground pummeled my rolling body.

After I hit about 7-9 rocks, I stopped, knowing rocks wouldn't float in mud. Coughing a bit, I exhaled, and inhaled, and just sat there in silence, not even bothering to wipe the mud off my closed eyes.

Yes, it was dangerous, yes I need a break before next time, but boy was that the best thing I had ever experience. After about 10 minutes of just relaxing and catching my breath, I finally stood up, wiped off a bunch of the mud, cleared up my eyes, and headed towards the river down a known path left of the bog to wash up.

The cool thin water, as compared to the thick mud, felt refreshing, and even warm to my cold sludged up body. Washing myself off, I felt amazing as everything just melted away.

Returning to my stuff, I took a wrong step and felt my left foot sink ankle deep into mud. The bog literally whispered into my delicate ears, ‘Come back, come sink some more, surely escape wouldn't be that hard!’

I knew I was exhausted, and getting trapped again would just get me trapped until I died of exhaustion. My other foot on solid ground, I politely declined the bogs metaphorical offer, grabbed my bag from the right of the bog, and headed home in the same direction. Once I knew I was on safe ground, and I was dry enough, I changed back into my clothes.

I would return, for sure, but it would be a while. Until next time, I suppose.

An excellent addition, Solrex. I especially appreciated how the submergence of the blind girl's ears both deafened and blinded her completely, since she relied upon her hearing to orient herself in her world.

JSample wrote:An excellent addition, Solrex. I especially appreciated how the submergence of the blind girl's ears both deafened and blinded her completely, since she relied upon her hearing to orient herself in her world.

Yeah. There is a part where her ears adapt to the thinkness of the medium which is the mud, and they then use her squirming around to guesstimate that the pit was 20 feet deep. Since this is an automatic process in this person's brain, she had no way of knowing if the pit was actually 20 feet, or 4 heights of herself, tall. I will not confirm whether that's true or not, since it's more arousing that way.

But if she's hearing under the surface of the mud, she's absolutely deaf to everything above the surface, thus blind to it as well.

Thanks for the compliment, I really appreciate it JSample.

Also, Solrex, I wanted to mention that I noticed your brief reference to your religious beliefs in the introduction to Part 2 above, and I remember other references you've made to it in other postings. I wanted to say that while I don't share your particular beliefs, I generally did decades ago, and so I both sympathize and empathize with you in your trying to balance and reconcile your beliefs with the reality of your quicksand fetish. When I was younger I had no kind of support group or community in which and with whom I could discuss my fetish, and my own religious beliefs just made dealing with it that much more difficult. I deeply respect your willingness to publicly acknowledge your struggle and to work your way through it.

JSample wrote:Also, Solrex, I wanted to mention that I noticed your brief reference to your religious beliefs in the introduction to Part 2 above, and I remember other references you've made to it in other postings. I wanted to say that while I don't share your particular beliefs, I generally did decades ago, and so I both sympathize and empathize with you in your trying to balance and reconcile your beliefs with the reality of your quicksand fetish. When I was younger I had no kind of support group or community in which and with whom I could discuss my fetish, and my own religious beliefs just made dealing with it that much more difficult. I deeply respect your willingness to publicly acknowledge your struggle and to work your way through it.

It's just a matter of knowing that quicksand is enjoyable, and that I have a strong faith in God. I mean, I should be reading scriptures every day, but I'm not, but I'm still going to church. Honestly, if I could just like quicksand for an autistic pressure reason and remove the sex from it, I'd be tempted to, but that's 1. Impossible 2. Not me.
Also, I currently have a girlfriend of my same faith who is so madly in love with me that she wants to sink in quicksand with me. Long distance while I'm at college though really sucks. Not sucks like quicksand though, that would be nice.

Honestly, I believe in god, and I like quicksand. Should I forsake one part for the other? No, they are both parts of me, and deserve equal respect. Maybe I need to tell my inner seductive mind, which I named Impulsi, that quicksand is okay with my girlfriend, but not until we are married, and that also, it would be nice if it was less sexual.

Another thing, is that despite using the same name across different platforms, there is no proof that this Solrex is the same Solrex as other ones. Plausible deniability, while also being able to still use the same name. Also, who the heck comes here that isn't interested in quicksand or someone else who has a quicksand fetish and wants to learn more.

Anyways, /endrant. Honestly, I'm still kinda upset such a well written story such as No. 8 was taken down, which is why I made my personal statement, that even if I personally forsake quicksand forever, I'm not gonna delete anything, I'll let God do that. I like feedback, and if people want to read my works of art, even if it's 18+, what's done is done, why should I take my stuff down? Anyways, just know I won't take my stuff down. /endrant for real this time.