james.goodman12
Forum Newcomer
- Joined
- May 26, 2017
- Messages
- 5
- Location
- USA
The trail is all but deserted. The tall, thick tree trunks don’t let much light filter down onto the narrow path. There is little undergrowth, leaving only short ferns covering the hillside. It’s a cool day in the forest.
Dylan is walking alone. At age 18, he has an athletic build, with a lean but muscular body; at 5’7, he is a little shorter than most people his age.
Dylan is alone for miles and miles; he likes it that way. Today, he is trying to find a good view of the surrounding mountain range so he can read his book and take a nap away from all the noise and stress. He had parked his car to the side of a dusty logging road, and left his blue shirt tied up around his waist. He finds it most freeing to wander through the woods bare chested. Eventually, he loses his pants and shirt altogether on the first vista. He decides to walk down through the valley to the opposite one, in his underwear.
He has been working hard for hours; sweat glistens off of his bare chest, the skin turning slightly red around his pecs and around his neck. His breaths are heavy, his chest heaves in and out with each lung movement. His pecs and nipples stretch with each heave in and out, his chest and ribcage expanding to the maximum capacity. The sacs in his lungs expand and contract to the rhythm of his heartbeat. His blood pumps furiously through his supple young veins and arteries. Dylan’s heart pounds heavily in his ears, drowning out all the forest sounds. Due to his lean frame, his heartbeat is visible through his chest.
He looks up the hill to his right. It looks like there is a great vista up there. He decides to try to climb off the path and into the ferns. He does this, and with each strained breath, he pushes his young, athletic body higher. Near the top, a small twinge of pain stiffens his back. He stops to massage the knot out of his upper back. His fingers run over his muscles, the sweat causing them to slip around. Another twinge of pain, this time lower. He tries to reach it but fails. He shrugs his shoulders and continues the climb. His whole body suddenly feels stiff, tight, as if he were tightening his muscles. The tightness continues to increase. He decides to stop to take another breath. He bends over, holding his bare, sweaty chest above his heart. The pain seems to be radiating out from this area. Every heartbeat sounds loud in his ears, and with each THUD THUD, his breath seems harder and harder to catch. With a breathless whimper, Dylan collapses down into the muddy earth by the pain in his chest. He grabs onto his left pectoral with both hands, squeezing tightly to try to alleviate the pain, as if he was trying to rip his failing heart out of his body. He is having a heart attack.
The tightness grows even more furious, until he can no longer breathe. The heartbeat in his ears grows loud and irregular; with every skip and stop, he feels himself fade in and out of consciousness. The pain suddenly grows less, but he can no longer see properly, or move his muscular arms or legs. His chest heaves in and out, pushing upward in and out of the mud. Dylan feels euphoric, and suddenly free. Dylan’s heart muscle dies first, and blood stops pumping around his body. Then, his lungs collapse, followed by other organs that fail one after the other. His brain function stops last; all electrical impulses cease to function a whole three minutes after his heart stops.
Thirty minutes pass. Dylan is dead, his near-naked body sprawled out on the forest floor, hidden by ferns. His muscular legs are laid flat, facing downhill. His arms are splayed upward above his head, exposing the light hair of his armpits. The tanned redness of his once-vigorous body begins to fade to a white, then a pale blue. In his struggling on the forest floor, his underwear rolled down to expose the head of his thick cock, pushed upward above the trendy waistband. The back of his underwear had rolled down below his firm ass; both cheeks are now pressed against the mud of the ground. His defined chest and abdominal muscles remain completely exposed to the air, facing upward towards the tree tops. His face has a shocked expression, eyes and mouth wide open like he is still fighting for his life. His damaged heart muscle sits dormant inside his motionless chest; the small hole in his left ventricle that caused the arrhythmia expanded during the heart attack to consume a whole quarter of the organ.
A rainstorm rolls into the area about three hours after Dylan’s death, sending wind whistling through the trees. Rain pours down onto the forest floor, drenching Dylan’s wasted body. He begins to slide down the hillside in the mud, slowly at first, but then picking up pace. On the slide down, his underwear completely rolls off, and is left sprawled on the muddy hillside underneath a patch of ferns. His exposed body continues downward, rolling across the path and then down another incline. Dylan limply slips into a small forest pond, his body sprawled on the surface face down before sinking. His exposed body, held in the zero gravity of the water, slowly hits the sandy floor. The water plays with his hair, tousling it around. Dylan is dead, and is never seen again. Over time, the water erodes his firm muscles and flawed heart. All that is left after a few months is a well-built skeleton.
Dylan is walking alone. At age 18, he has an athletic build, with a lean but muscular body; at 5’7, he is a little shorter than most people his age.
Dylan is alone for miles and miles; he likes it that way. Today, he is trying to find a good view of the surrounding mountain range so he can read his book and take a nap away from all the noise and stress. He had parked his car to the side of a dusty logging road, and left his blue shirt tied up around his waist. He finds it most freeing to wander through the woods bare chested. Eventually, he loses his pants and shirt altogether on the first vista. He decides to walk down through the valley to the opposite one, in his underwear.
He has been working hard for hours; sweat glistens off of his bare chest, the skin turning slightly red around his pecs and around his neck. His breaths are heavy, his chest heaves in and out with each lung movement. His pecs and nipples stretch with each heave in and out, his chest and ribcage expanding to the maximum capacity. The sacs in his lungs expand and contract to the rhythm of his heartbeat. His blood pumps furiously through his supple young veins and arteries. Dylan’s heart pounds heavily in his ears, drowning out all the forest sounds. Due to his lean frame, his heartbeat is visible through his chest.
He looks up the hill to his right. It looks like there is a great vista up there. He decides to try to climb off the path and into the ferns. He does this, and with each strained breath, he pushes his young, athletic body higher. Near the top, a small twinge of pain stiffens his back. He stops to massage the knot out of his upper back. His fingers run over his muscles, the sweat causing them to slip around. Another twinge of pain, this time lower. He tries to reach it but fails. He shrugs his shoulders and continues the climb. His whole body suddenly feels stiff, tight, as if he were tightening his muscles. The tightness continues to increase. He decides to stop to take another breath. He bends over, holding his bare, sweaty chest above his heart. The pain seems to be radiating out from this area. Every heartbeat sounds loud in his ears, and with each THUD THUD, his breath seems harder and harder to catch. With a breathless whimper, Dylan collapses down into the muddy earth by the pain in his chest. He grabs onto his left pectoral with both hands, squeezing tightly to try to alleviate the pain, as if he was trying to rip his failing heart out of his body. He is having a heart attack.
The tightness grows even more furious, until he can no longer breathe. The heartbeat in his ears grows loud and irregular; with every skip and stop, he feels himself fade in and out of consciousness. The pain suddenly grows less, but he can no longer see properly, or move his muscular arms or legs. His chest heaves in and out, pushing upward in and out of the mud. Dylan feels euphoric, and suddenly free. Dylan’s heart muscle dies first, and blood stops pumping around his body. Then, his lungs collapse, followed by other organs that fail one after the other. His brain function stops last; all electrical impulses cease to function a whole three minutes after his heart stops.
Thirty minutes pass. Dylan is dead, his near-naked body sprawled out on the forest floor, hidden by ferns. His muscular legs are laid flat, facing downhill. His arms are splayed upward above his head, exposing the light hair of his armpits. The tanned redness of his once-vigorous body begins to fade to a white, then a pale blue. In his struggling on the forest floor, his underwear rolled down to expose the head of his thick cock, pushed upward above the trendy waistband. The back of his underwear had rolled down below his firm ass; both cheeks are now pressed against the mud of the ground. His defined chest and abdominal muscles remain completely exposed to the air, facing upward towards the tree tops. His face has a shocked expression, eyes and mouth wide open like he is still fighting for his life. His damaged heart muscle sits dormant inside his motionless chest; the small hole in his left ventricle that caused the arrhythmia expanded during the heart attack to consume a whole quarter of the organ.
A rainstorm rolls into the area about three hours after Dylan’s death, sending wind whistling through the trees. Rain pours down onto the forest floor, drenching Dylan’s wasted body. He begins to slide down the hillside in the mud, slowly at first, but then picking up pace. On the slide down, his underwear completely rolls off, and is left sprawled on the muddy hillside underneath a patch of ferns. His exposed body continues downward, rolling across the path and then down another incline. Dylan limply slips into a small forest pond, his body sprawled on the surface face down before sinking. His exposed body, held in the zero gravity of the water, slowly hits the sandy floor. The water plays with his hair, tousling it around. Dylan is dead, and is never seen again. Over time, the water erodes his firm muscles and flawed heart. All that is left after a few months is a well-built skeleton.
