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Over the many days of trial and endurance I have faced, both in my studies at home and afield, this has by far been the longest.

The scene of the forest was just as my brother had described it. After a few miles of hiking through sparse trails cut through the thick understory, the many sounds of the forest just... stopped. One moment, I was walking with my guides through a forest alive with the songs of birds and insects. The next; it was as if I had stepped into a wall of silence, the noise of the forest behind and a fearful void ahead. It was there that my guides from the tribe left me, turning back along the trail without another word. Only the sacred among their women dared venture further, for it was they who claimed to know how to safely reap its rewards.

Of course, I'd had my doubts. But it was then when I first began to wonder, among this tribe's traditions, what was superstition and what was founded on fact and observation? Would I really be able to stand on my own against the threats that could lurk in these, the most unknown and trackless of stretches of nature's greatest forest?

A man who was like a brother to me was missing and I'd gone this far to discover his whereabouts. I understood the choice I had made. I wouldn't abandon that - I wouldn't abandon him.

I walked for a long span until past noon that day, by dusk I had pitched my second camp in a small tent in an attempt to escape the insects. Indeed, this stretch of forest lacked the more spectacular species, but where there is still water, mosquitoes will gather. I felt it was a necessary precaution, unfortunately for me, it wasn't enough.

This night would be the first step on the slope to madness, and it would not be a surefooted one.

I recall sleeping well that night. Like these soundless nights, it was so normal that it became queer. So mundane that one began to fearfully question why it was so. This lifeless place shouldn't feel so inviting. I never rested so easily on my journey here but now that I had arrived, something felt... right.

When I awoke into that queer period of time when one has yet to understand their position in space and time, I momentarily mistook the warmth of my sleeping bag to be that of my cozy quarters at the university - some continuation of that feeling of belonging.

But then, something rustled in the dark. The shock that dragged me back to the present rattled down my spine like a bolt of static buried inside of me, snapping the threads that had begun to bind me to this place. All feelings of ease and comfort vanished as old memories arose. Of the cobra that had sought warmth on my mattress in Mumbai. Of the scorpions that had snuck under the hides of the Din'e chief's teepee and nearly killed I and him in seconds. Surely, I was now once again in mortal danger.

My pelt prickled against the canvas covering me, hypersensitive as a spike of adrenaline drove its way into my blood, my animal brain already outpacing my rational self. I could feel the gentle caress of... something against the inward-facing surfaces of my legs. The pencil-thin legs of a tarantula? The grazing skin of a coiling snake? Either way, it was moving and doing so with a definite goal in mind. I could feel the sweeps crawling up my calves, feeling out my thighs... it was oddly steady - as if it understood I was petrified and that I was well within its grasp. Or, perhaps, to show that it didn't move with the speed of a hunting predator but had something else in mind.

I breathed and counted to three, then in a swift motion threw off the covers, pulling my mostly closed thighs outward and away from the intruder, curling my knees briefly upward to avoid its bite if it were to be startled by the sudden removal of its cover.

I blinked as I took in its shape, my knees subconsciously lowering so that they wouldn't block my view of its flanks. It didn't start when I had thrown off the top cover, instead sitting intently on its four lean, spindly legs. It had an air about it that I found similar to captive specimens of P. Fasciata I had studied. Like the tarantula, the creature sat motionless, as if a peculiar statue. I worried that it was preparing to act drastically, perhaps it had deemed me a lethal threat and would decide to fight, moving with an uncharacteristic burst of speed, much like Fasciata and its hydraulic-limbed cousins.

But its motions were measured, one leg at a time rising and falling in a slow arc, its motions blatant to the point of theatre. Then it made sense... it wasn't in a fight-or-flight state... it was courting! These wer ethe exaggerated motions of a male in the presence of his potential mate.

I remained petrified, the gears of my intellect grinding over each other in an attempt to understand what had brought about this peculiar state, and how I could avoid breaking it long enough to escape unharmed. I examined its radial, flower-like body. Four guard-leaves cupped a delicate layering of bright red petals that twitched and shifted, as if animated by a gentle breeze. Camouflage, surely. An adaptation to keep other creatures from interfering in its search for...

I shuddered as four new appendages wormed their way from the center of the bulb. Whiplike with narrow tips ending in a leaf-like widening and flattening whose underside was festooned with countless round suckers. Their bodies were supple, flexing gently with the movement of countless precise muscles. They stroked the soft, pale fur of my thighs, pressing through the downy pelt to massage the skin underneath with skillful precision. There was no doubt now, it was courting for some privilege and I will shamefully admit that the object of its affections was growing warm against the modest panties that shielded it from the cool night air.

The air was humid prickling through my exposed vulpine pelt, kept modest only by two pieces of, admittedly minimal clothing. In this weather, there was no other comfortable way to sleep. Clothes didn't keep out the insects like a well sealed and weighted sleeping bag. Of course, that had done me no good now, the denizens of this forest were clearly of a different, more pernicious ilk. I was regretting being so careless and unprepared.

I could only watch as the tentacles slithered over my panties, preening and massaging as much as probing and searching, rubbing up and down the line of my sex. Soon, one found the border of my garment and pulled it aside, rumpling the curve of its lower reaches against my thigh, revealing my wet netherlips to the chill air. Then, in a single, deft backward coil and lunge, it plunged the wider tip of one of its vinelike appendages deep into the round of my entrance.

I clenched, partly out of surprise but mostly in resposne to the sudden stimulation. Its tip was slightly wider then the body of the vine, spreading me in a way that felt as close to perfection as such a little thing could get within me. I watched it sink deeper and deeper still, felt its narrow body wriggling and coiling against my inner walls.

In my later studies I found the root of this behavior was part of its feeding instincts. The creature had evolved to maximize the pleasure of its host so that it could feed on her nutritious sexual fluids. But that was only the first of its goals for me.

Something inside of me had decided that I would accept this fate. I felt so fulfilled as the other three appendages slipped into me, barely spreading my outer lips. But, hidden inside of me, their suckered heads found my inner surfaces, curling over the complex terrain of my most sensitive places, massaging and suckling voraciously, sweeping up every drop of my juices.

I thought this would be it, that I would now be forced to endure this alien treatment to sate this creature's craving. I thought they could go no further, but then they went deeper.

I felt the first appendage squeeze its flexible, soft body past my barrier, wriggling inside its confines and deep into my womb. Beneath my rapidly rising and falling stomach, I had a clear view of the creature feeding its tentacle deeper and deeper. I couldn't keep my eyes open, my paws grasped at canvas sheets in a fit of uncontrollable, twitching bliss. Soon I found myself lifting a breast from the cup of my bra and squeezing mercilessly, teasing my hardened nipple, unable to control my rising lust. Where was it coming from? Why was this so... perfect?

Before that thought could finish crossing my mind, I experienced the greatest orgasm I'd ever been graced with in my entire life. As the tentacles probing, greedy suckers tapped into my rich uterine fluids, I began to realize how enthralled I'd become. It was already controlling me, this unimaginable pleasure.

But I couldn't stop it. It was as if I was caught in the flow of a cascading river, adrift and helpless as this creature sexed me so thoroughly. Soon it had buried all of its feelers in my womb, each finding its own place to perfectly stimulate me. I lost track of how many times I came, it was a timeless eternity riding the cusp of orgasm after orgasm as this 'podling' fed, its flowering body soon spreading gently to accommodate the bulk of its take, its feelers rippling, crudely gulping down my juices.

At some point, consciousness left me. And, when I awoke, I was empty. It filled me with a profound sorrow, as if part of me had hoped I would have been taken, kept as a thrall to my own urges by this creature.

And perhaps that was what they were planning that instant. I was surrounded by dozens of them and only escaped through swift, decisive action, grabbing what I could and leaping over the diminutive creatures and out the flap of my tent, perhaps ruining it in my rush to escape into the comparative safety of the night.