I've been posting my unpublishable slushy stories on this website. It's my fun page of fiction.
Here is a Chronological list of Stories with the type of transformation involved in each story.
I write a blog of story ideas that I am working on or thinking about.
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A WOODSY INTERLUDE
June 23, 2006
The corn was already a foot above Hank's head. He ran through the stalks with Logan Jones playing hide and seek like two little kids. The corn silk brushed against their heads and shoulders. It was still early morning and the August sun turned their bare shoulders red. The two young men ran until we were exhausted, ready to collapse and then ran some more. Yellow corn polled covered their heads and filled their lungs.
"This is great. Are you going to keep the farm as a farm or develop it into estates?" Hank asked between breaths. We lay flat on our backs in the middle of a dirt path between the cornfield and the wheat field.
"Oh, God no Henry. No Bloody way, I'd be Logan the blasphemer, Logan the heretic, Logan the outcast. I could never divide the farm. It's been in the family since 1810. It would have gone to my Father if he had lived beyond his ascension. I was just a child and my Grandfather raised me. It was tough on the old man. Luckily, he lived long enough for me to graduate. As it is, I'm still the youngest Jones ever to inherit Dumbarton," Logan said.
"I hadn't realized that. I feel bad for even suggesting it. I apologize," Henry sat up. He tugged the front of his coveralls.
"Aw, Henry Gilbert Mansfield Gibson, you don't have to apologize for anything. The only thing you have to do is become a farmer with me," Logan pulled Hank to his chest and kissed him. "And that name has got to go. Henry isn't a farmer's name, now Hank is… That's it. From now on you're Hank." They laughed and kissed again. In the distance, a tractor motor roared as one of the farmhands began the daily inspection.
"We shouldn't stay here, let's take the pickup and go to the West Hundred. There's a pond there where we can swim naked and lay in the sun all day," Logan stood up without brushing the dirt from his coveralls and took off running towards the barn. Hank followed him. The "West Hundred" was up in the mountains. The sun shown just as bright but the air temperature dropped and the humidity fell off as they drove up into the mountains. They drove through small herds of cattle in tree-lined pastures before they crested the last hill and drove down to a log cabin sitting next to a pond as Logan called it. Hank stared speechless. The pond was huge, much more of a lake than a pond.
"Only Seamus and his Mexican cowboys ride up here at this time of year. They aren't due at the cabin for three days. We'll have all that time to ourselves," Logan pointed to the log cabin through the windshield of the pickup.
"This doesn't look like it's changed for years," Hank said. The log cabin looked old enough to be original and the fences were merely posts and barbed wire.
"Look over there on the far side of the pond and count the oak trees," Logan pointed to the far side of the pond. The huge oak trees lined up like sentinels against the mountains.
"Eleven oaks," Hank said to him.
"One for each of my forebearers, it's the family custom for each descendant when he inherits the farm to plant a living tree. I brought you here to help me plant my Oak," Logan said. Hank didn't know what to say and stuttered his thanks for the next few minutes. When Logan stopped the pickup next to the cabin, Hank was still thanking him.
"All right, all right, just stop thanking me. The water's waiting for us," Logan jumped out of the pickup and ran to the dock. He shed his coveralls and boots jumping into the water with only socks on his feet. The sun sparkled off the water. Hank looked around and saw no one before he bared his body to the summer sun and jumped into the water. He left his socks in his boots. He hated to wear boots with wet socks.
The muscles on Logan's small, lean body rippled and flexed as he swam from the dock out to a wooden platform in the middle of the lake. Logan swam like a fish, easily and swiftly. Hank followed, barging after Logan, splashing and grunting, muscling his way through the water. He weighed twice what Logan weighed and lifted four times the weights that Logan could lift. However, here in the water, Logan's small body and sleek frame gave him an advantage. He waited on the platform. He looked like a wood sprite or a forest elf as he waited. He gave Hank a chance to catch his breath. Then he dove back into the water and swam towards the opposite bank. Hank followed him at a leisurely pace. Logan swam around him in the water.
"You're amazing. If the swim team knew how well you swam, they'd never let you get away," Hank said between strokes.
"Nah, I didn't want all that practice and competition stuff. This is fun. Swim team is work," Logan answered he dove under Hank and matched the bigger man's speed from underwater. When they reach the bank, Hank's chest and shoulders were bright red from the exertion. Logan was hardly winded. He sprinted to a patch of grass and moss on the sunny side of the oak trees.
They both dropped to the grassy mound and rested. Logan turned onto his stomach with his chin in his hands. The soft grass and spongy moss felt like a mattress.
"I spent my childhood swimming in this pond. My grandfather would always made up stories about it," Logan chuckled. Hank lay on his back to get a tan. The soft earth yielded to his body. They had nothing to do but lay in the sun. The sun rose slowly and languidly toward its zenith. It heated the soft earth beneath their bodies. Time slowed for the two young men and so did their conversation.
"Stories? Do you remember them?" Hank asked. Logan related the story in slow and measured phrases.
"Once upon a time, one fine summer day, when my Grandfather was just a young buck like we are now, he decided to drive his ancient pickup up here for a swim. As he neared the pond, he heard voices shouting and laughing with glee. He found eight young men swimming naked in his pond. They were laying out on the platform in the middle of the pond so he hid their bicycles and hid their clothes."
"Oh, hid their clothes. Was your grandfather gay?" Hank asked.
"Oh hell no, he humped the local women with abandon. Caused him all sorts of trouble," Logan giggled.
"What happened to the naked boys, then?" Hank rubbed his chest. The hot sun made him sweat. Logan continued the story.
"As his telling of the story goes, he shouted to them that they were in his lake and the boys answered that the lake was free and they didn't care if he got naked too. Grandfather said that he told them he didn't come down here to watch naked young boys swimming or make them get out of the pond. He was here to feed the alligators. He said they waited out there almost a day before they got up enough courage to swim to the opposite bank."
"They waited all night? They weren't the brightest bulbs in the universe," Hank laughed and rolled over onto his stomach. The warm, soft ground caressed his body. He spread his arms and legs and nestled his face against a patch of soft moss. Logan rolled onto his back and put his hands behind his head and his knees in the air.
"Oh it gets better. He told them that he wouldn't turn them into the police if they helped him plant that grove of fruit trees over there. They actually believed him and planted the trees."
"I'll bet they were still naked, too," Hank interrupted. He felt sleepy in the hot sun.
"How'd you know?" Logan chuckled.
"What good would the story be if they weren't naked?" Hank answered.
"Right," Logan added.
"So your grandfather tricked them into staying the night on the platform and the next day they planted the fruit grove. What else?" Hank put his chin on his hands. The grass and moss beneath him squelched softly leaving green marks on his hands and elbows. He could see green marks on Logan's body, too.
"He took them to the mud pit and made them wrestle with each other," Logan laughed aloud at the story.
"Nude mud wrestling," Hank laughed, "that sounds like fun." Hank brushed his hand across his butt to shoo away a bug.
"It is. The mud pit is just on the other side of this bank," Logan said. His voice sounded sleepy. Hank swatted at a mosquito.
"Does the mud keep the mosquitoes away?" Hank asked.
"I'm not getting eaten by mosquitoes," Logan smiled. This is going to be easy, he thought. Hank pushed up on one arm. Logan's muscular body looked hot and sexy on the green grass.
"Well I am. Take me to the mud puddle before you fall asleep," Hank said. He bounced up onto balls of his feet. Bits of grass and green moss clung to his skin. Green stains covered parts of his body.
"This stuff doesn't rub off. I feel like the Jolly Green Giant," Hank said brushing the dirt away. The green wouldn't smear.
"Don't worry; I got stuff to wash it off back at the cabin. The moss on this mound is soft and squishy, nice to sleep on and quick to stain," Logan said. He leaned up, pulled Hank's face close and kissed him passionately. When they broke, Logan slipped away from Hank. Hank ran after him.
The mud pit was small more like a giant mud puddle but it was deep and very muddy. Hank and Logan's sweaty bodies slid easily into the rich, brown mud. They wrestled. Logan's small frame and the slick mud neutralized Hank's strength and size. Mud splattered in every direction as the two young men grappled and twisted with each other. Finally, inevitably, Hank got the better of Logan and wiped a handful of mud across his face. Logan clenched his jaw and redoubled his efforts. Finally, Logan had to yield.
"Uncle, Uncle," Logan yelled. Both men laughed and slid into the deepest part of the mud puddle. Only their heads stuck out of the mud.
"I win, I win," Hank grabbed Logan's cock and stroked it in the slippery mud. They each laughed. Logan reached around Hank and pulled his head deep into the mud. Hank surfaced with a mouthful of mud. The two young men jerked each other's cocks to orgasm, wrestling and groping each other in the thick, black mud. As the reached orgasm, Hank lifted Logan's hips above the mud and sucked on his cock. Logan could hear Hank chocking on his muddy cock. It felt so good as Hank drove him to orgasm. Both young men lay exhausted lay in the soft, slippery mud, their chests heaving for air. The mud completely coated their bodies except for their eyes.
"First green stains, now brown stains," Logan laughed. Hank dug the dirt out of his mouth.
"I must have swallowed a couple pounds of this stuff. At least it doesn't taste like horseshit. They say mud baths are good for the skin," Hank giggled like a silly, little boy. He rubbed his hand over his arm but the mud stuck tight to his skin and left a thick coating on his skin. He felt it pull against his body. Hank sank back into the mud leaving only his mouth and nose out of the mud. He deliberately relaxed his body and farted. The mud gurgled obscenely.
"Did you fart? Did you fart?" Logan laughed.
"And I'm going to make even more mud," Hank laughed so hard he swallowed a little bit of mud. As he chewed on the gritty mud, he emptied his bladder. His cock tickled and thickened in the comforting warmth. The mud felt so comfortable that he wanted to stay in it there all day.
The sun rose to its zenith and baked the mud puddle. A tough crust began to form at the edges of the puddle. Before either of them realized it, the thick crust was halfway to their heads. Logan spoke up.
"You know, the sun is drying out our puddle. If we stay here the rest of the afternoon, the mud will encase our bodies. I don't think that's what we want, huh? Or do you want to play good little piggy and stay here?" Logan asked. He sat up.
"Well then, go get more water from the lake. What else is there to do but relax," Hank answered.
"It get's cold at night up here and this stuff gets as hard as adobe," Logan answered.
"You're a wimp, you know that. I could go to sleep in this mud. I don't give a flying fuck if it did dry. It's not like we aren't going to spend the night up here. Cuddle up against me and we can spend the night encased in it the mud... Wouldn't that be the scandal of your farm? Seamus and his Mexican cowboys find us encased in the mud sucking each others dicks or fucking each other's asses, tomorrow," Hank mumbled. His mouth barely broke the surface of the mud. Logan was amazed he could even hear with his head buried like that.
"Well actually... I have a confession... I had the gardener bring my tree up here. It's a family custom. We plant an Oak on the day we officially inherit the land. Maybe we ought to dig the hole for the tree. I feel like some good hard work," Logan suggested. The mud made a loud sucking noise as he stood up. Logan didn't even try to remove the mud from his body. The mud hid his nakedness.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, you just wanted me here just to dig a hole," Hank pulled his body free from the hardening dirt. Mud and grass hung from his body in thick strings. It felt so funky clinging to his cock and balls. His entire body tingled with excitement for reasons he didn't understand. Hank shook his legs. His feet felt heavy from all the mud clinging to them. He thought that they looked like chocolate Easter bunnies.
"Sounds good to me," Hank added. He scratched his butt and pulled weeds out of his ass. He farted again. Both men laughed.
"You gotta do something about that bean diet," Logan remarked. He produced a shovel and wheelbarrow from behind the base of the last Oak tree, paced off the appropriate distance from the other trees and handed Hank the shovel.
"Jolly well, dig we must," Hank said. The rich, black dirt was soft and loosely packed. He worked fast and hard. Within an hour, he had a hole about five foot deep and three foot in diameter. The rim came up to his the bottom of his pectoral muscles. Even more rich, black dirt caked onto the mud and sweat that covered his body.
"You're like a digging machine, dude. I've never seen anyone dig that deep that fast," Logan said. Hank looked at Logan's knees as Logan scrambled to mound the dirt away from the rim of the hole.
"I worked for my Uncle one summer digging ditches. You learn to dig fast…" Hank bragged. He braced his hands on the rim of the hole and tried to pull himself but he couldn't. This doesn't seem right, Hank thought. "I think I'm deep enough, huh? If it isn't we should get a ladder or something before I try to make it bigger. He leaned his chest against the side and tried to pull his body up again. His feet wouldn't leave the ground. Logan smiled and picked up the shovel.
"That hole is perfect, it's just the right size for you, you know," Logan threw a shovel full of dirt against Hank's body. Hank brushed the dirt away from his eyes and mouth. It clung to his broad chest. Logan walked behind Hank.
"Don't fool around, Logan. I'm serious. Give me your hand. I need some help getting out of this hole," Hank said. Logan threw another shovel of dirt into the hole. This time against Hank's back.
"Hey, stop that," Hank got angry. He reached tried to lift his body out of the hole for a third time. He couldn't do it. His feet felt like they were strapped to the ground. Hank reached down and felt a bunch of roots gripping his feet. He brushed more roots away from his ankles and calves. There shouldn't be this many roots, he thought. Logan threw another shovel of dirt into the hole.
"I bet I know what you're going to say," Logan said. He sat down on his butt and looked at Hank. His cock and balls rested on the grass right in from of Hank's face. He felt the grass reach up and grip the tender flesh of his unit.
"What? Why are you sitting on your ass doing nothing? It's more fun to watch, isn't it? Help me out of this hole," Hank growled. He tried to tap his foot but couldn't. He reached down at tried pulling the roots away from his feet. His feet hurt when he did.
"You're going to tell me that the roots are grabbing your feet, aren't you?" Logan answered. The fast growing grass wound itself around his cock making it stiffen. He felt a root push at his butt-hole. His body reflexively opened to accept it. He'd been careful in the mud pit. Hank, on the other hand, ate the mud and opened his body to its invasion. His conversion was inevitable.
"Yeah, they are. How did you know that," replied Hank. He put one hands on the rim of the hole and reached the other around to pull a root away from his knee. It wouldn't let go. Roots grew out of his feet and ankles. He could see them growing toward the walls of the hole.
"Look at the grass under me. In the short time I've been sitting here, the grass has grabbed my cock and balls and a root is pushing its way into my butt," Logan said. Hank took a good look. Logan lifted up and let Hank see the grass pull his cock and balls downward and the root that was growing into Logan's asshole.
"I've got a message for you," Logan said, "roots like these are growing both in and out of your body as we speak. When we let the grass stain our bodies green and then played in the mud, we fulfilled the enchantment that my ancestor put on this land. You're turning into my mighty Oak just like the eleven men before you. Each of my relatives before me found a lover willing to offer their human existence to the land," Logan tried to stand up. The grass and roots were strong and clung to his body.
"Do you see how the land takes what it wants? I can't sit any longer," Logan said. He had to pull the grass from his genitals and the root out of his ass. Hank's hands made a quick dash down his legs and discovered the truth of Logan's words. Logan shoveled more dirt into the hole around Hank.
"Why?" Hanks asked. He grabbed at Logan but couldn't reach him. He stood helpless in the hole. He could feel hundreds of roots growing out of his ankles and feet. Short, stubby roots grew out of his hips and thighs through the falling dirt. A root had even penetrated his cock making it thicker. He could feel his cock thickening and lengthening as it growing towards his feet. Tiny roots grew on Hank's hands and forearms.
"You never let me finish the story about the Fruit grove. You see, one of my grandfathers planted those eight boys in the fruit grove. All he had to do was keep them there long enough for their feet to take root. The story says it took days for their bodies to become solid wood. That's why those trees are so twisted and gnarled. Those boys bear the best fruit on earth to this day," Logan said.
"And that's what I'm going to turn into?"
"No, you're going to grow into a giant Oak with a thick, straight trunk. You're my champion, Hank. You're more than just a human sacrifice to the living forest; you're my gift to the land. You should stand up tall and proud," Logan urged. He kept shoveling the dirt against Hank's back. Hank felt his torso stiffen as a root grew into his body and up against his spine. Logan tamped the dirt down and continued to fill the hole. Hank could see him standing at the pile of dirt in front of his body.
"Stop please, stop. Tell me it isn't too late. Tell me this is all a joke. Tell me you can get me out of this," Hank begged.
"I couldn't get you out if I wanted to. The enchantment is too strong. You're my hero. You're my big sturdy oak, my pillar of strength. Accept this gift from me, Hank. You'll never grow old. You'll live hundreds and hundreds of years," Logan said.
"But I loved you. I would have spent my life with you," Hank had tears in his eyes. Logan stopped shoveling.
"I know. That's why I had to give you to the land," Logan said. Hank sobbed softly.
"But I had plans," tears streaked Hank's face.
"Listen, the family writings say that you should put your arms at your side and just let your head and shoulders protrude from the ground. Please do that Hank," Logan asked.
"I don't have much choice, do I?" Hank shoved both hand down against his torso. The lower half of his body was already a mass of wooden roots. His balls felt huge and elongated. His cock had grown thick and long. His legs felt long and thin as if they extended deep into the ground. Logan piled more dirt against Hank's stomach and chest. Hank felt his fingers lengthen as roots grew from their tips. His entire body felt thick and round. Finally, Logan tamped the dirt level with the rest of the ground. Only Hank's head and the tops of his shoulders stuck out of the ground.
"Now that's a nicely planted tree if I say so myself," Logan said. Hank laughed at the stupidity of the joke. He couldn't tell how much of his body remained human or had been transformed into living wood. Logan brought a bucket of water from the pond and watered Hank. Hank sputtered as the water ran over his head. The dirt compacted around his body.
"How long before the change is complete?" Hank asked.
"Not long," Logan said. Hank had a thought.
"How about one last wish lover-boy? Stick your cock in my mouth and let me suck you off one last time," Hank asked. Logan laughed and squatted in front of Hank's face. His cock was stiff and throbbing but he didn't get close to Hank.
"No, no, no, no, no, that's what happened to my father. He took a chance on a blowjob and he didn't reach orgasm fast enough. The land took both my Father and his lover as one tree. I showed you why. You saw it. My body is just as susceptible to the enchantment as your body... I did the same things that you did except that I kept my socks on. That's my only protection from being changed into a plant. My father forgot and sat down on the ground to let his lover chow down on his cock. When his lover changed, he couldn't pull his cock out of the wood and the roots grabbed his naked body and trapped him. That's too high a price to pay for a blow job," Logan explained.
"Can't blame a fellow for…" Hank never finished the sentence. He felt his chest harden as woody cellulose replaced his lungs and stopped his heart. Nutrients from the ground flowed up his roots and into his head. He felt a thick trunk growing up through his body, into his neck and out through his head. It would be a thick and sturdy trunk with branches and leaves sprouting from his new body. Logan watched as the new tree grew tall. Satisfied, he put the shovel and the wheelbarrow to one side and walked to the pond. He swam back to the platform letting the water wash the mud from his body. From there, he swam back the dock by the cabin. A series of vivid green, swirling designs covered his thighs, hips and stomach. These would never wash away. They signified the land's acceptance of his friend. Logan and Hank were now permanently linked together with the land of his ancestors.
Logan felt tired. The ancient bed in the cabin would be a welcome resting place. It was late in the day. Tomorrow, he would drive back to the main house assured that the land would survive for another generation.
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