Mr. Trample Fantasy
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Buried Desire: Volleyball Game
🕑 Added 2024-09-14 19:36:37 +0000 UTC*Buried Desire: Day Two*
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Jake’s consciousness flickered in and out, trapped between a dream-like state and the crushing reality that still bound him to the sand. The searing pain that had overwhelmed him the day before had dulled into a constant, oppressive ache. His body, bruised and broken, lay paralyzed beneath the sandy surface, and he couldn't move. The night had passed in a haze, the cool ocean air offering no comfort as it settled over the beach. He had survived, but barely.
As the first light of dawn began to warm the sand, Jake's mind slowly cleared. He could hear the soft rush of the waves nearby and the distant cry of seagulls. The beach was peaceful, almost serene, but Jake felt no relief. He was still trapped, still buried. Every breath was a struggle, his lungs barely able to expand against the weight of the sand pressing down on him. His muscles screamed in agony, unable to move or shift even the slightest bit. He had never imagined that his plan would go so horribly wrong.
The thought of staying like this forever sent a wave of panic through him, but there was nothing he could do. He had to wait, endure, and hope that somehow, someone would help him without realizing the strange situation he'd put himself in. His breathing tube was still functional, but it was growing more uncomfortable by the minute. He felt the sweat trickle down his face beneath the mask, the sun rising higher, making the sand above him hotter.
He tried to listen for any signs of life, any approaching footsteps. The beach would soon be filled again with people, and if he was lucky, he might get the chance to escape, or at least get some relief.
But Jake’s nightmare was far from over.
By mid-morning, the beach began to fill with people once more. He could hear the sounds of families setting up their towels and umbrellas, the laughter of children playing in the surf. Every sound heightened his sense of dread. What if someone came too close? What if he was discovered? The thought of being found like this, buried in the sand, was unbearable. Worse yet, what if no one noticed him at all?
His body remained as still as a corpse beneath the sand, and he listened intently to the sounds around him, hoping for a break in the nightmare. Then, suddenly, he heard voices nearby. They were high-pitched, energetic, and growing louder.
"Right here! This is a perfect spot!" one of the voices exclaimed, followed by the sound of shuffling feet and the unmistakable rustling of large beach towels being spread out over the sand.
Jake’s heart skipped a beat. He recognized the sound—it was a group of women, and they were right above him.
There was the soft thud of heavy bags dropping onto the sand, followed by laughter and the rhythmic padding of feet walking around him. Jake winced as he felt the weight of something pressing down on him. He couldn’t see what was happening, but he could feel it. The women were laying their beach towels, or perhaps beach mats, directly over him. The sensation of fabric dragging across the sand made his skin crawl.
More voices joined the first—at least three, maybe four women.
"This is perfect," said one. "Let’s get some sun before we practice."
Jake’s blood ran cold. They weren’t just setting up for a relaxing day on the beach—they had plans. And it involved staying for a while.
Before he could fully process the situation, the weight on his chest grew heavier. One of the women had settled onto the mat directly above him. He felt her body press into him, the fabric of the beach mat softening the blow slightly, but not enough to spare him from the pain of her weight on his already bruised ribs. The hot sand trapped him underneath the layers of fabric, his air supply limited to the small breathing tube.
Another woman sat nearby, her weight landing on his lower abdomen. The sand compressed even more, and he bit down on his lip to keep from gasping. They had no idea he was there, no idea what they were doing to him.
The women chatted casually above him, completely unaware that beneath their mats lay a man enduring silent torment. One woman shifted, her leg accidentally pressing directly onto his chest. The pain was excruciating, but Jake remained silent, unwilling and unable to give himself away. He had to endure. He couldn’t risk being caught.
Minutes stretched into an eternity as the women lay sunbathing above him. Occasionally, one of them would move, their feet shifting and pressing against his buried body. One of the girls stood up and stepped down hard on Jake’s shoulder, the sharp pain causing him to clench his fists beneath the sand. He could hear them laughing, oblivious to the agony they were inflicting.
After what felt like hours, the women finally began to stir.
"Let’s move the towels and set up the net," one of them said, and Jake felt a sliver of hope. Maybe they would leave soon.
The mats and towels were pulled off of him, allowing the pressure on his chest to ease. But his relief was short-lived.
"Right here is good. We can set the net up along the shoreline, and we’ll have plenty of space to practice."
Jake’s heart sank as he realized what was happening. They weren’t leaving. They were setting up a volleyball net, and judging by the sound of their voices and the location of the footsteps, they had chosen the spot directly next to, and partially over, where he was buried.
The women moved with purpose, their bare feet pounding into the sand as they set up the poles for the volleyball net. Jake could feel the vibration of their steps as they hammered the poles into the ground. His body, still trapped beneath the sand, was at the mercy of their every movement.
And then it began.
The volleyball game.
The women took their positions, completely unaware of the man buried beneath them. Jake could hear their excited chatter, the smack of the volleyball being hit back and forth, and then—inevitably—the thud of their feet slamming into the sand as they jumped and lunged for the ball.
The first impact hit his arm, a sharp pain shooting up to his shoulder as one of the women landed directly on him. She didn’t even notice.
Then came another—a foot pressed down hard on his stomach as a woman sprinted to the side of the court, her foot sinking into the sand with the force of her jump. Jake tried to brace himself, but there was no escape, no reprieve. His body was a punching bag for the relentless stomping, stepping, and jumping of the volleyball players.
The worst part wasn’t just the pain—it was the anticipation. He could hear their movements, feel the sand shifting around him, but he never knew exactly when or where the next foot would land. The unpredictability of it all made it unbearable.
"Nice spike!" one of the women shouted, her voice full of excitement.
Jake barely had time to register the words before one of the players landed hard on his chest, her full weight pressing down as she jumped up to hit the ball. The impact sent a shockwave of pain through his already broken ribs, and he gasped silently, trying to suck in air through the narrow tube that fed him oxygen.
But the game continued.
For what felt like hours, the women ran back and forth, their feet constantly pounding into the sand, trampling Jake beneath them without a second thought. Each time they leaped for the ball, they landed with full force on the ground—and often, on Jake.
He could feel the pressure of their toes digging into his flesh, the weight of their bodies crushing his already bruised limbs. There was no escape, no end to the torment. Every movement, every step was agony.
At one point, one of the women stood directly over his head, her foot sinking into the sand just inches from his face. He could hear her laugh as she called out to her teammates, completely unaware of the man suffering beneath her.
Jake’s mind was in a fog, his body barely able to endure the pain. But he knew he had to stay silent, to remain hidden. If he was discovered now, there would be no escaping the humiliation and consequences that would follow.
Suddenly, a surge of weight pressed down on his back as one of the women landed on him with both feet. She had jumped for the ball and missed, and her body slammed into the ground with a force that knocked the wind out of him. Jake’s vision blurred as the pain overwhelmed him.
Then, something unexpected happened.
The volleyball rolled toward him, coming to rest right next to the shallow mound of sand where he was buried. One of the women jogged over to retrieve it. She bent down, her hand reaching for the ball, her fingers brushing against the sand that covered Jake’s face.
His heart raced in panic as her hand hovered inches above him. Would she feel him? Would she notice the slight rise in the sand where his body was buried? Would she realize that something was horribly wrong?
But just as quickly as she had bent down, she grabbed the ball and stood up, laughing with her teammates as she tossed it back into play.
Jake exhaled in relief, his entire body trembling from the near discovery. He had come so close to being caught, to having his secret exposed. But luck, it seemed, was still on his side—for now.
The game continued for what felt like an eternity, the women running, jumping, and trampling him without a care in the world. Jake’s body was battered beyond recognition, his muscles cramped and sore, his ribs likely fractured in multiple places.
But he had survived.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, the women finished their game. They gathered their things, laughing and chatting as they packed up their towels and mats. Jake listened intently, waiting for the sound of their footsteps to fade into the distance.
And then, silence.
They were gone.
Jake lay there, buried in the sand, his body a broken mess. He could barely move, barely breathe. But he was alive. Somehow, he had made it through another day of torment.
But his relief was short-lived.
Just as he was beginning to hope that his nightmare was finally over, he heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching once again. This time, they were heavier, more deliberate.
A shadow fell over him, and Jake’s heart raced in fear.
He couldn't see who it was, but the footsteps stopped directly above him. He felt the weight of a foot pressing into the sand near his head. Then, to his horror, a voice spoke—low and cold.
“Well, well... what do we have here?”
Jake’s blood ran cold.
Something had gone terribly wrong.
The voice didn't sound like the playful beachgoers from earlier. It was darker, more calculating, and there was an edge to it that sent chills down his spine.
Before Jake could fully comprehend the situation, the weight of the foot pressing into the sand increased, crushing his skull into the sand.
And then, everything went black.
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*To Be Continued...*
