My Field Work (Part 2)

I thought the first part of this story was way too weird for anyone to like it, but in response to that cool but unexpected thing called Popular Demand, here’s some more…

I went into the lab on Monday, having recovered from my unexpected and overwhelming encounter with the tree. My colleagues, all research students like me, were excitedly poring over a flood of emails and faxes about the sudden spate of these curious, stunted trees that had started to appear all over the Midlands.

“What’s up?” I asked. Gail turned around and grinned at me.

“Have you heard about these weird trees?” she said, waving a printout at me. “They’re popping up all over the place. Nobody seems to know how they’re spreading so fast.”

Gail was the friend of mine who had told me about the tree in the first place. She was definitely the most intelligent amongst us, with a brilliant, forensic mind that could cut through irrelevancies and see patterns in evidence quicker than any of the rest of us. She was good-looking, plump, with strong features and long brown hair that she kept tied behind her head in a ponytail. She played down her own attractiveness by always wearing horn-rimmed glasses, sensible sweaters that looked much too tight on her, shabby jeans and work boots, but even clothes like these couldn’t quite hide her voluptuous, rounded figure. She was just not interested in her own sexiness – every so often, late at night in the university bar, one of us would drunkenly try to chat her up, but she would always laugh, and throw beer at us.

Gail had been unwittingly responsible for my assault by the tree, and ever since it had happened, I had wanted to show her what it was like. Now I realised I had my chance.

“Yeah, there’s one down by that bog I was at last week,” I said casually. “I had a look at it. I think I know how it does it.”

“How?” she said eagerly. “Does it have male and female forms? No, they’re too sparse for that. Airborne seeds? No, I know, it’s got to be a succulent, right? Is it a succulent?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, trying to keep a smile off my face. “Maybe you should come and have a look. You’d be able to explain it better than me.” Gail rolled her eyes in mock exasperation.

“I have to do everything round here,” she complained. “All right, surfer boy. Get the car round the front. I’ll meet you out there.”

Ten minutes later, I was driving Gail out of the city and into the flat, featureless countryside of the Midlands. She kept on talking about the trees and expounding her theories about their method of reproduction. I nodded and made the occasional encouraging remark, but I knew how the trees reproduced – at least, with men – and I told myself that what I had planned was in the spirit of scientific enquiry. The fact that Gail didn’t know she was my test subject was unfortunate, but it was also necessary, if we were to gain a true understanding of the tree’s physiology.

After a couple of hours, we had reached the bog. It was another hot, cloudless day, the midges dancing low over the brown water. Gail clambered out of the car and set off towards the tree. I got the video camera out and hoisted it onto my shoulder, to make a permanent record of the proceedings.

“Is this it?” said Gail, pointing at the lone, twisted, thick-trunked tree, standing at the lip of the bog.

“That’s it,” I said, pressing REC and putting the eyepiece to my eye. Gail skirted around the bog and walked quickly towards the tree, stepping carefully to avoid the pools. I followed her, and soon we were standing fifteen feet away from the tree.

“So what’s the big secret?” she asked, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. She was red-faced and hot inside her thick woollen sweater and muddy jeans.

“Well,” I said, still videoing her, “if you go up close, there’s a sort of vertical crack, at about head height. Have a look at it.”

“Where?” she said, taking a step forward.

Suddenly, with a kind of SCHLOP! sound, a melon-sized gob of yellowish slime was spat out of a knot in the bark of the tree, flew through the air and splattered over the front of Gail’s sweater. She stopped, amazed.

I was amazed, too. She looked down at the mess across her chest, looked at me and grinned hugely.

“Did you see that?” she whooped. “It spat at me!”

“Careful,” I said. “Maybe it’s poisonous.” Gail examined the yellow slime and sniffed it.

“Don’t think so,” she said. “It smells just like resin. I think it might be – hang on…” She dabbled her fingers in the mess of yellowish goo, and a look of wonder spread across her face. Taking the sides of her sweater in both hands, she pulled gently, and it limply came apart across her chest. The sweater had just melted away where the slime had touched it. She dropped the ruined sweater on the ground.

“Weird,” she breathed. “Looks like it can dissolve vegetable fibres.” She scooped up some more slime and rubbed it on her shirt-front, and sure enough, the shirt seemed to liquefy and fall apart at the front. She pulled off her shirt – underneath, she was wearing a one-piece black swimsuit.

“Polyester,” she grinned at me. “This should hold up.” She stepped forward again, and this time there was a SCHLOP! SCHLOP! as two more huge gobs of yellow goo were fired at her, splashing over the lap of her jeans and the top of her swimsuit. She laughed.

“I don’t think it likes me,” she commented, as her jeans fell apart, falling down her legs. She sat on the ground and pulled off her boots and socks, then threw her ruined jeans away. “We have more clothes in the car, right?” she asked, wiping the slime off her chest. Her heavy breasts were bulging in the swimsuit.

I had to swallow – my mouth was dry. “Yeah,” I said. Gail nodded, and stood up again. Now she was dressed only in her tight black swimsuit – her plump, bare arms and legs were exposed for the first time since I had known her. She eyed the tree carefully, and stepped forward again.

Nothing happened. She glanced at me, raised her eyebrows and took another step forward. Still nothing.

“Must have run out,” she said, and stepped up to look at the tree. I kept the camera on her. She peered at the rough bark.

“Oh yeah,” she said, “I can see the crack…bizarre, it looks more like it’s organic…smells really nice…” She put her nose to the crack in the bark, and inhaled.

Then it happened. The crack split open, formed itself into a puckered mouth shape, and lunged over Gail’s head. But Gail was quick - she saw it coming and jerked her head back. Not quick enough, though.

The “mouth” closed over Gail’s head down to her nose, gripping her fast, leaving only her mouth outside. “Oh, God!” she cried, as the thick vines rapidly snaked about her body, lashing her to the tree-trunk. I kept recording, moving towards the tree.

“It’s got me!” Gail exclaimed. “I can’t see…Andy, for God’s sake, get me out of here!” The vines were twirling around her arms and legs, and slithering inside her Speedo, crawling all over her body. She wriggled desperately.

“Hang on, Gail,” I said, “this could be of great scientific interest.”

“Fuck you!” she fumed. “Get it off me! I think it wants to…oh Jesus!!”

The vines inside Gail’s swimsuit suddenly bunched and pulled apart, ripping her swimsuit into several pieces. The shreds of it fell to the ground and Gail’s plump, naked body was finally revealed. She writhed desperately, her mouth contorted, but the bulbous tips of the vines were snaking down between her legs, and up into the deep cleft of her ass.

“It wants to fuck me!” Gail moaned. “It’s touching my pussy! Oh God – it’s touching my ass…” She heaved, her white body shockingly naked in the mesh of thick green vines, trying to escape what was being done to her, but it was no use. I zoomed in on the thick, swollen tip of the vine, pushing inexorably down between Gail’s trembling, white ass cheeks, and I knew she was feeling the same horror and fear and shameful arousal that I had experienced. I felt for her, I wanted to rescue her, save her from the tree’s rape of her, but I also knew that if she went through with it, we would share a precious secret knowledge.

“It wants to fuck me in the ass!” Gail sobbed. “Don’t let it fuck my ass, Andy, pleeease…”

“Try to relax,” I urged her, even as I felt a pang in my heart. I knew this was the most difficult part, just letting it happen. Gail went “UNH!” as the vine slithered into her pussy, and her hips were pushed away from the tree with the force of it. Then the vine behind her urged itself into her anus, and she moaned an agonised “AAAHHH!!!” Now the tree was fucking her in both orifices simultaneously, and she was lifted off the ground with the force of it.

I kept filming only with the greatest difficulty. I wasn’t at all sure if this was the same for Gail as it had been for me. There was something so poignant in the sight of my friend, the girl I was most fond of, being used by this unknown force in such an intimate and terrible way. I forced myself to keep filming Gail as she moaned, being fucked and sodomised by the vines, the tree invading her most secret places, expertly manipulating her helpless naked body.

She screamed, then a handful of vines crammed themselves into her mouth, and began pumping her face. “MMMMMMMMM!!” she went, the vines tugging on her body, as she was stretched and hauled in the tree’s intimate embrace. I could see that smaller vines had encircled her breasts, and were pushing her upper body away from the tree, so that her breasts would not be squashed flat – the small, smooth tips of these vines had encircled Gail’s bare, pink nipples and were stroking them rhythmically.

Gail was blinded and naked, her legs and arms moving like a swimmer underwater, she was being fucked in her mouth, vagina and ass by the tree, but it was as determined to make her enjoy it as it had been determined to get me aroused. She was still making stifled moans of fear and horror, but her soft body was no longer trying so desperately to escape. She was letting herself ease into the humiliation and indignity of the fucking. I realised I’d been holding my breath and took a gulp of air – I knew, finally, that what was being done to Gail was exactly what had been done to me. I filmed her, awed by the sight; I longed to be experiencing again what was happening to her now.

Her ass cheeks clenched and unclenched around the vines that were pumping into her rectum; her nipples were visibly stiff. Gail let out a voluptuous groan, and her body shook as the vines that had entered her began to swell and pump fluid. The thick white sap began to leak and then flow out of her ass and her pussy, sluicing down her legs, and it burst from her filled-up mouth, pouring over her chin and chest. Then, the tulip-like mouth clamped over the upper half of Gail’s head began to pump pint after pint of the sticky white sap over her head and face, drenching her. She made only a choking, whimpering sound, as her body flushed crimson with orgasm.

She went limp, and the vines in her mouth, pussy and ass slithered rapidly out of her. The “mouth” unclamped itself from her head, and the cables that had lashed her to the tree relaxed. Gail collapsed backwards. I threw aside the camera and caught her. She lay in my arms, trembling, nude, completely covered in the sticky white cum-like sap of the tree, blinded where it covered her eyes.

She coughed and gasped for breath.

“Are you okay?” I asked, cradling her head in my arms.

“Oh Jesus,” she moaned. I cleared some fluid off her face. She blinked it out of her eyes and looked up at me, dazed, her eyes unfocused. “I, I just…I can’t believe it. I came…God, it was…I’ve never felt like that before. Did that just happen?”

“I know what it’s like, darlin’,” I said, smiling. “The same thing happened to me. I wanted you to see it for yourself.”

“Thanks for, like, warning me in advance,” she muttered. I helped her to her feet. She was weak and shaking. I helped her walk towards the car, but half way there she doubled over and groaned.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” she gasped. I let her down on her hands and knees. “It’s normal,” I told her. “Just let it happen.” She shuddered, coughed, and then a powerful stream of green liquid shot out of her mouth and splattered onto the moss. Then she whimpered, as another stream of the green, viscous fluid spurted from her ass. I stroked her head until the fit passed, holding her tight while she wept. Then I lifted Gail to her feet, and we got to the car.

I used our drinking water to wash her off, then I wrapped her in a towel and dried her. She was still weak and shaking. Finally I helped her dress in some spare clothes and put her in the passenger seat. I got in the driver’s seat and we headed back to town; she fell asleep, blessedly, her face drawn but peaceful.

I pulled up outside her apartment. I shook her gently and she woke up, and smiled at me, exhausted.

“Are you gonna be okay?” I said.

“I think you’d better come in,” she murmured. “I need a hot meal and a cold drink, or seven.”

“Yeah, it was like that for me too,” I said.

“I mean,” she went on, tiredly, “we have a lot to talk about. We have to get a report in about this by Friday. It’ll knock their socks off.”

“Plenty of time for that,” I said, and I leaned over and, to our mutual surprise, kissed her fondly. She responded warmly, then chuckled to herself. I got out, opened her door, and helped her into the building.

We spent the rest of the week in her apartment, working on the report and sharing our experiences. If we’d known the impact our report would have on world science, and the shock and notoriety it would provoke, we might have kept our findings to ourselves. But what’s done is done; Gail and I continue our research. My best friend is now my senior partner both in and out of work, and for that, I suppose I should be grateful to the damn trees.