The office was starting to get hot and stuffy, as it always did in the later part of the work day. She tugged open the top button of her tan park ranger uniform, wishing the stiff cloth were made of something thinner and more breathable. She lifted the next leaf of paper from the enormous basket of park passes she was processing-- Entering them into the database to store them electronically. The basket still looked just as full as it had been this morning. The writing on the paper blurred a little as she yawned widely. She needed coffee.

She pushed her chair back from the desk, getting slowly to her feet, eyes on the grainy, gray-green carpet. The familiar gray stain in a sloppy splotch greeted her from beneath her right boot. The ranger's office wasn't the nicest cabin in the woods, and the task for today was mind-numbing, but Patricia still loved the job. It wasn't exciting or glamorous, but that's how she liked her life. She was good at being content with what she had.

And most people would say she didn't have much. In all the almost twenty years she had been in the ranger service, she had lived on her own in a small house on the edge of town. It was far enough on the outskirts that it was nestled cozily into the woods, like an egg on a pillow. She loved living there, and never felt lonely. She liked that the house was right off the road that brought her to work, making her commute easy.

The one thing that wasn't simple about her was her beauty, which was ironic, since that was the one thing not in her control. She was unmarried, but no one had ever pitied her silently for not being able to find a man. It was obvious to all who knew her that it was by choice, since it was clear that there was no shortage of interested suitors. even now as she had just turned forty.

Men of all ages would still widen their eyes when they laid eyes on her, much to the chagrin of their wives and girlfriends, when they noticed. But often, the women were equally as entranced. Patricia's beauty was not conventional in any sense, but that made it all the more riveting. Part of it was in the sleepy eyes, which may have looked droopy on someone else, but on her was darkly sensual. It was also in the way her lips curled as she talked, often into what should have been a sneer, but instead became an invitation when on her smooth face. Her cheeks were charmingly plump when she smiled, but her chin, nose, and forehead were elegant and planar.

Her figure was also alluring, even in the thick, modest ranger's uniform. Over the years, she had gained more fat around her hips and thighs, but this somehow only emphasized more beautifully the curve of her waist and her proud bosom, which she unconsciously pushed up and forward. She believed in good posture, much to the dismay of her male colleagues, who often found themselves making a strained effort to not stare at her breasts whenever she straightened and thrust her shoulders back.

Padding up to the coffee pot, she found that it was empty. She was usually the one washing the pot and brewing a fresh one, but she didn't mind. Just as she hit the start button and turned to go back to her desk, her colleague called out to her.

"Patty, could you come take a look at this?" he asked, gesturing at his computer monitor.

She smiled and obliged, bending slightly down over his desk to better see the screen. The young ranger determinedly kept his eyes away from her bust, even as it was only inches from his face.

"It looks like a distress signal, from a Personal Locator Beacon, but the signal only ran for two seconds before shutting off," he muttered.

"Mmhm," agreed Patricia, "We've seen that before, actually, when campers accidentally turn it on but immediately shut it off again. I can go check it out, just in case."

"Cool, do you want me to come with you?"

Pat waved her hand mildly. "No, it's really not big deal. It's probably nothing. I'll be back soon in a few hours."

The younger ranger smiled gratefully. He actually preferred desk work, unlike Patricia, who jumped at every opportunity to enjoy the forest, especially alone.

She wrote down the coordinates of the distress ping and set off in her worn, white ranger truck, fresh coffee completely forgotten.

She drove for almost an hour on the main road of the park before getting to the dirt road turnoff that she was to take into a more remote area of the forest, where the distress signal coordinates were. She was used to the park's large size, and was undaunted as she drove deep into the parts of the park that few people ever went. But these days, it was not uncommon for a few experienced backpackers to come to this region each year, to lose themselves in nature and escape from the hyper-connection of the modern world.

It was another hour before she saw a tiny shape in the distance that could be a vehicle on the side of the road. It crept closer and gradually expanded into a small Subaru. She pulled up next to it. Nothing was amiss. A valid backpacker's pass was set on the dashboard, crinkled slightly from a few cycles of sun, and registered to an Annie and Eddie Morriss. Looking carefully around the vehicle, she saw some broken twigs and flattened grass that suggested the duo had headed directly into the woods from the front of the car.

Pat followed the clues they had left behind, venturing farther into deeper brush, and soon she began to see familiar large boulders with a distinct texture and color, triggering a memory from nearly twenty years ago.

The memory came back vividly. The young woman had been missing 64 hours at that point, and the search and rescue team was losing hope and morale by the minute. Pat had volunteered to be a part of the party, as she always did, even to this day. She remembered seeing the same species of boulders, the same thick, green brush and trees with oblong leaves that grew in clusters. Something had given her pause after a few hours of searching that day, something about that particular patch of forest. Maybe it was the faint hint of a smell, a smell that was sweet, perhaps... She couldn't quite place it, but she knew it wasn't one of the smells of the woods, which she knew well.

She had looked around carefully, commanding her tired eyes to sharpen. Then, she had spotted them, the only two traces of the young woman that were to be recovered: a beanie and the tattered remains of a shirt that had been ripped into pieces. No other remains had ever been found.

Pat's toe smacked against a large rock on the ground, snapping her back into the present day. She sniffed once, inquisitively, realizing that the same sweet smell from the memory now hung in the air around her, more strong than it had been then. What was it? It smelled delightful, neither fruity, nor flowery. It was an enticing smell that she wanted to bury her nose into, if she could just find the source.

The sky overhead suddenly darkened ominously, even though she could have sworn there was no rain in the forecast. She frowned and turned around to go back to the truck, to grab her rain gear, which she toted everywhere religiously.

That's when something warm snaked around her ankle and tightened into a snug hold. She gasped, instinctively jumping backward to try to dislodge it, but promptly lost her balance instead, as her other ankle had been similarly captured.

She flailed her arms as she fell, looking to catch herself, bracing for the impact. She never hit the ground. A third thick rope, larger than the previous two, had wrapped around her midsection, steadying her. She whipped around, tugging on the rope, trying to loosen it as she looked for the source of the restraints. She froze as she saw what had captured her.

It was huge, a creature that seemed to pulsate, but on closer inspection, was made of a tangle of writhing ropes, which it seemed to use as limbs, propelling itself forward by slithering across the forest floor. Some of them darted out to wrap around trees, which it then used to pull itself from side to side. It maneuvered powerfully closer to her and she saw that it was otherworldly-- There was a static hum that seemed to surround it, and the air appeared to whoosh around it in a vortex, crackling occasionally. The air appeared to blacken momentarily in places as it rushed around the creature's skin, as if the light itself were being sucked in. An enormous, iridescent sphere looked as though it contained swirling black smoke inside it, and she could only assume it was the creature's eye.

The shock of seeing something so strange wore off slightly and she came to her senses. She screamed at the top of her lungs, clawing at the thick tentacle around her waist, scratching at it viciously, hysterical, like a trapped, wounded animal.

More limbs snaked around her wrists, pulling them up and over her head, but they were almost gentle in their movement. Still terrified, she kept screaming, her throat beginning to burn. She felt firm pressure at the base of her skull, at the back of her neck, and a slight tingling, and suddenly, her whole body relaxed and her screaming was cut off abruptly as her throat refused to continue.

A smaller one of the creature's tentacles, with a rounded end, came toward her face. Her eyes widened in horror and she tried to turn away as it came steadily toward her mouth. Her body simply would not respond, all her muscles remained limp and motionless. The tentacle slid past her slightly parted lips, pushing into her mouth, where it nestled into her tongue. Then, it expanded slightly, filling her mouth in a large, warm, lollipop. She tried to spit it out, or to bite it off, but again, her jaw remained relaxed against her will.

Now there was a sweet liquid seeping out of the ball in her mouth, and it pumped back and forth gently, prompting her mouth and throat to begin an involuntary sucking reaction. Her throat had been so dry from the fear and adrenaline, but suddenly her mouth and the offending tentacle were coated in a smooth mixture of her saliva and the mystery liquid. To her surprise, it tasted so good, like nothing she had ever tasted before, a nectar she suddenly couldn't get enough of, and she found herself swallowing hungrily. It soothed her painful throat and as she swallowed, more and more of the liquid came out. She wondered if she was being poisoned, but as her fear resurfaced, her mouth and throat continued to work with a mind of their own, suckling and drinking.

Her stomach began to feel warm, as it did after a shot of strong whiskey, and she realized that the more liquid she drank, the warmer it felt. It was pleasant warmth, and she felt her knotted stomach muscles soothed as the warmth reached them. But now, the warmth was radiating even further... Down to the waist of her panties, and past that, to her public bone, then to her clitoris, and finally, it reached her sex, where it bloomed inside her canal, filling her with a delicious, aching sensation.

Now she could feel a wet spot on her panties as her hot juices dribbled out. How was this possible? She never got this wet when she touched herself.... The wetness grew, until she felt that the bottom of her panties were absolutely soaked, and all she could feel was throbbing, burning, aching need.

The warmth had now also started to bloom upwards from her tummy. She had been so preoccupied by the overwhelming sensations in her body that she hadn't noticed when the tentacle had been slowly withdrawn from the inside of her mouth. She gasped now as the wave of sensation reached her breasts. They seemed to engorge, straining against her bra, and her nipples swelled, pulsing to her heartbeat and pushing hard into the fabric of her bra, begging to be freed. She felt crazy now, her body sodden with lust.

Her mind insisted once more that she try to get away, but all the pulsing, throbbing sensations were a cacophony that drowned it out, and she slowly gave in to the heady, drunken feeling of whatever substance was now coursing through her body.

The limb on the base of her skull pulled away with a soft pop of suction releasing, and she found she was able to move her body again. But she no longer struggled to get away.

The rope around her midsection loosened and she felt several others snaking under her shirt from underneath. They were warm and firm, but their surface felt velvety soft. They felt so good. She squirmed and groaned, arching her back, asking for more.

The tentacles had now found her bra and slipped under it, working through and up, exiting through the front of her shirt and also through the neck and sleeves. In one graceful motion, the tentacles flexed powerfully, ripping the shirt and bra entirely off her torso. Her swollen breasts sprang free, bouncing twice, her nipples already hard and standing. The warm ropes snaked around her torso and around her plump mounds, kneading and writhing, and soon Patricia was panting with pleasure. They wrapped around her big nipples, rolling and squeezing, tugging on them, until she gave a strangled scream, hardly able to stand the desire building in her insides.

By now, her cunt had soaked a patch into the crotch of her neatly-pressed ranger pants. Every time the creature tugged at a nipple, another throb of desire bloomed down into her pussy, gushing out as liquid heat.

Unable to take it anymore, Patricia begged the monster, not knowing whether it understood English.

"Please, I need more.. I need to be touched there," She could hardly believe what she was saying, and how desperate she sounded.

Before she knew it, she was lifted completely into the air, on her back. She felt grabbing at her legs and her pants were roughly pulled off. She could see the large, reflective eye above her as the monster pulled her close. Beyond it was treetops against a backdrop of tumultuous, swirling cloud cover. Vaguely, she wondered how the creature's presence could affect the weather like that, but that train of though was interrupted as it had now pushed underneath her panties, slithering pointedly toward her privates. She was suddenly frightened. Was she really going to let it touch her there? Where she had never let anyone else go? She wanted to protest, to slow everything down, but just as she opened her mouth, the appendage had secured a fistful of her panties and pulled. She yelped as they stretched and then ripped, the elastic of the waistband snapping sharply against her as it was destroyed. She was completely exposed.

She had the instinct to try to cover herself, and her cheeks blushed hot with shame, almost as hot as her puffy, pulsing clitoris. She opened her mouth again; whether to scream for help or to beg it to stop, she wasn't entirely sure, but before she could make up her mind, her mouth instead emitted a loud, throaty moan. A thick tentacle had plunged forward and attached itself around her clit, while two others spread her legs wider. The pleasure was so acute, so intense, that for a moment Patricia worried she had been mutilated, but when she looked down, she saw that there was no blood, only the rhythmic movements of the limb as it sucked at her clit, thoroughly stimulating it from all sides at the same time. Her clit had never felt this good. She felt the intense pressure of a mind-shattering orgasm build rapidly, deep inside her abdomen.

"Ohhhh," she moaned throatily, lost in ecstasy, "Yesssss."

Her cunt released another gush of pure lust, so much that some dripped down in a thick river, toward her ass crack.

Without warning, another tentacle pushed only its head into her pussy. Patricia gasped at the sharp, tight sensation of being stretched. While it was painful, she instantly wanted more inside her. Instead of clamming up like she often did when she thought of a penis, she felt her pussy grow warmer, and it relaxed on its own, welcoming the invading member. She pushed her hips forward, spreading her legs even wider, taking in more of the alien flesh, which slid in easily.

She groaned as the limb started to move. Her dripping folds were so hot and wet that the thick tentacle was able to push in smoothly past them, nudging itself deeper into her virgin cunt. She tightened at first, but as it allowed time for her to adjust to the large girth and deeper penetration, her walls began to relax, wetting and warming even further, until the limb crested lightly against her cervix, all the way in her. She gasped at the foreign sensation, so full and intimate.

The creature was touching her deeper than she'd ever been touched-- It felt like it was resting against the spot inside her where her orgasms originated, deep inside her abdomen. The tentacle began to pump inside her, ever so slowly, tenderly. Patricia's breathing came in ragged gasps as an aching glow, dull and hot, began to smolder inside, growing slowly more intense, building on all her previous pleasure. It was visceral, tinged with the slight, but delicious flavor of virginal pain.

She felt like she was losing control over her abs and lower limbs, and they began to clench rhythmically along to the pumping inside her. She felt the same rhythm pulsing in the hot pleasure that bloomed in her sex, the inside and outside of it equally ablaze.

Inside her, the end of the tentacle had begun to gently suck her cervix, stimulating the sensitive but powerful nerve endings there, caressing and stroking. Patricia had never before experienced a cervical orgasm and she was honestly frightened by the intensity of pleasure that was wracking her body. Her tummy had never clenched so tightly, and she almost feared that the burning muscles would never be able to relax properly ever again. More tentacles tugged at her nipples, squeezing and rolling them.

All she could do was moan helplessly as the pleasure peaked to a height she had thought insurmountable, and then the most magnificent orgasm of her life crashed onto her. Her body spasmed. She actually screamed aloud as the pleasure seemed to explode out of her. She had the most curious sensation, like flying backwards through a tunnel, wind whistling forward past her ears.

Then, without time for her to be aware it was happening, she blacked out.

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