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Corn Stalkers

Written by Leo_Todrius

Supported by my Patrons

How could a place be so quiet and loud at the same time? The wind gradually rose and fell as it passed through the wheat and the corn like some great organic ocean. When the wind fell back, absolute silence replaced it. There were no animals to disturb the peace. Even the faint, distant rumble of tractors and threshers was absent. Any observer out of context would not have been able to determine what year it was from looking at the field, perhaps not even the right century if it had been not for the one piece of farm equipment maintaining the field. It was something incredibly new and incredibly unnatural.

The object floated above the cornfield, suspended by a combination of electromagnetic field and repulsor generators. There was no wind, no exhaust, and barely even a slight ripple to the crops beneath. The Reaper was U shaped, clad in a sort of apricot orange-yellow metal. The seams of the panels had a bit of dirt worn into them, along with a few dings and dents from when it had been stored over the winter, but it was moving along, performing its duties without need of combustion fuel or food.

A faint greenish-blue mist wafted out from vents along the underside as it maneuvered along the corn, allowing the mist to fall across the parchment like husks of the corn and the wispy leaves, sparkling on the rich soil before it was absorbed into the dirt. It was Cellucore's proprietary blend, one so secret that even the active ingredients on the chemical drums were vague and unhelpful to their contents... but the farm was thriving and the income provided from the company had been more than enough to keep the owner above water.

The automated equipment had eliminated the need for farm hands... in fact, the contract had specifically stated that no personnel were to operate on the property where the Reaper was being used. The owner had assumed that the clause was because of the implicit safety and security concerns, but it was an old farmer's custom that one's prosperity was not their own alone. He had kept one or two hands on here and there, mostly for maintenance but it gave a few others a job in a tight market.

The Reaper fertilized and tended the crops, and then when the time was right it cut them down. The collection was left to another mechanization that gathered them and delivered them to the automated corporate trucks. The special Cellucore formulation ensured that yields were triple what they would have been naturally, both in quantity and individual volume. The food was not destined for any grocery story. It went exclusively to the off-shore city of Trinity to provide food to the masses. The arrangement had been going on for a few years now, long enough that Dante felt like he was quite possibly going to be the last farm hand in the world. It also meant that he had the easiest job in the world.

A journey down to the corn field had not been on the schedule; after all, his presence there was forbidden... but there was something of a rebellious streak in him and the idea that the corn was off limits made it even more appealing. The farm hand strolled up slowly to the edge of the stalks, watching the Reaper hover in the distance, moving about its business. He watched it ease along until it shrank smaller and smaller, its suite of sensors pointed in the opposite direction. With a bit of a stretch, Dante stepped over the ditch that bordered the field and felt the leaves of the corn stalks brush his bare arms.

Dante's clothing wasn't exactly farmer's classic. In fact, many of his predecessors might have considered it a bit of an insult. He wore light brown coveralls that complimented his chestnut brown skin and his head was topped with a caramel and tan camouflage hat. His jawline showed the shadow of stubble, though it thickened into a short, dense, bristly goatee and mustache. The heat of the day had inspired him to go without a shirt, showing off a dusting of chest hair and the tattoo of an emblem from his favorite video game on his neck. The glint of gold rings hung from his ears and his dark eyes were obscured by the shadow of the brim of his hat. The farmhand's boots were perhaps the most traditional to his craft, well worn and tall enough to keep out the muck.

Even though it hadn't been a great distance, hopping over to the other side of the ditch had situated Dante squarely in the middle of an agricultural wonderland. The air smelled of rich, fertile soil and corn nearly ready to pop. He smelled the corn stalks and the late summer sun. There was another smell as well, one that was a bit harder to place... was it tart? Savory? No, it was more like the smell of ozone when a thunderstorm was rolling across the plains. Dante knew that smell well, but there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

The farmhand pushed aside a few stalks and stepped forward before being thwacked squarely in the bare chest. It had been enough of an impact to echo off of his lungs, making a decidedly loud thump. Dante was stunned a bit before his eyes refocused and found the cause. Hanging out in front of Dante was the largest ear of corn he'd ever seen in his life. The silky stalks had pulled back, the translucent waxy lime green husk revealing the golden kernels that had been so well protected before. Each nodule still seemed plump and moist, packed to the brim with a natural salty sweetness. The ear was so full and so fat that the stalk had bowed down under the weight of it.

Dante stared at the corn in amazement, trying to picture how it had grown so big... but it wasn't an anomaly. The ear was next to another enormous one, and those two were sitting down a few inches from yet another. As Dante looked around, he realized just how many of the ears had grown to immense proportions. Most were still sealed in their husks, but the one right in front of Dante had practically reached out to tap him on the chest, demanding his attention. The corn was so long, so round, so plump and so perfect. It wobbled there, just a little below his face, each kernel glistening.

For a long moment Dante simply stood there. The calm of the field washed over him, rising and flowing as the wind swept across the top of the corn stalks. As the sun filtered through the leaves, it played across the surface of the corn, revealing the pearlescent sheen of a metallic blue residue clinging to the corn, the husks, the stalks and even the dirt. Everything had been coated with it, and Dante no longer had any doubt that it was the source of the ozone scent. The more he breathed in that air, the fewer doubts he had about anything...

Had Dante ever seen anything quite as handsome as that corn? Had nature ever crafted something so big and thick and juicy and appealing? It was right there, fresher than any corn he'd ever had in his life. The owner had once joked about farmers being able to eat the corn before it was even cooked, enjoying it fresh off the stalk. As the complexity of Dante's thoughts diminished, he started to wonder about taking it a step further. He was going to enjoy it while it was still attached.

The farmhand reached to hoist the ear of corn up, feeling its heft in his hand. The oblong golden shaft was hefty in his hand, but Dante wasn't going to be deterred. He leaned in, his lips parting, a fleshy pink tongue emerging. He gave the length of the corn a swipe with his tongue and shivered as the combination of natural sweetness and synthetic bite made his mouth tingle. He licked, then he licked again, moving his lips up and down the length of it, holding it aloft all the while with his fingers wrapped around the base. Soon, even that much wasn't enough.

Dante's eyes were closed, the sun dappled across the lower half of his face, his eyes still shielded from view by his hat. He let the corn graze his cheek as he withdrew back to the tip, each kernel thrumming against his skin like beads. When he reached the tip, Dante turned, his lips parting and revealing the warm, wet, waiting hole. The thick ear of corn plunged into his mouth and he let it slide across his tongue, between his teeth and soon to bump the back of his throat. Dante didn't gag. If anything, his cravings were only getting worse.

The thick shaft of corn slid in and out of Dante's mouth, the farmhand letting it bump the back of his throat. Dante didn't think about what he was doing, he just responded to his feelings and he felt the need to have the corn inside of him. He bobbed his head forward and back, letting it slip in and out. The bumps sent vibrations through his lips and cheeks and tongue as they slipped across that segmented surface. His eyes rolled behind clenched lids. It tasted great, it smelled great, it felt great... it felt more than great. It felt like something he'd been missing out on his entire life.

One of Dante's calloused fingers slipped up his stomach, reaching the clasp of the coveralls. With a tug and a twist, the strap came loose and one entire corner came down in one big flip, revealing not only his hairy chest but everything from his navel down to his groin. No longer constrained by the heavy fabric, Dante's own shaft was swelling and plumping on its own. Blood rushed into the flesh, forcing it to engorge and thicken, adding on inch after inch.

In many ways, the farmhand was replicating the progress the crop itself had enjoyed. Cellucore's fertilizer was nearly refined to the point where it was capable of making two harvests in one season. The quality and quantity were both dramatically enhanced. While it had never been disclosed to Dante, that too was one of the reasons that personnel were forbidden from approaching the field when the Reaper was in use. The fertilizer was revolutionary and incredibly potent. By the time the crops reached Trinity, the effects would have worn off and been undetectable, but with the chemical having been sprayed so recently the combination of active ingredients and reagents would overwhelm any organic system.

It almost felt as if electricity was arcing from one cell to another, supercharging Dante's bloodstream. His nipples were pert and erect and his own manhood was throbbing. One hand gripped the corn with an iron grip as he went to town, slipping it in and out of his mouth, his head bobbing eagerly. The other slipped down, finding its way to his own meat. His rough fingers felt like a sharp contrast to the soft skin. For a few moments the movements were uneven, perhaps even awkward, but everything started to fall into an equilibrium. As the corn plunged into his mouth, his hand whipped down his rod. As the kernels slid back out to glisten in the sunlight, Dante let his hand glide back up to the tip.

While the farmhand seemed quite adept at sucking corn, it was more than just filling his throat with it. He tilted his head, shifted his angle of attack and went at it from numerous directions. The corn bulged out from the soft tissue of his cheek, making an obscene shape as he rammed it in over and over. The wires of Dante's brain had been rewired. The corn was fertility and life and sex and masculinity, everything he craved. The fertilizer had done what it was designed to do, promoting that very same fertility.

Dante's tan skin glistened with sweat, the sun warming his flesh. If he'd had the power to stay in that moment forever, there was no doubt he would have, but all things had a time and Dante's was swift approaching. The wild flicks of his wrist ushered forth a few drops of pre before the flow thickened, sending jets of pearly white cum out across the rich fertile soil. The jism shimmered in what little sunlight reached it. It was almost as bright as the drops of fertilizer that saturated the plants and the dirt, and soon enough the two began to mix. The pearly white cum began to take on a bluish-green hue. In a few more moments it started to sink into the soil, or rather, it was absorbed.

Cellucore's fertilizer had been pushed through countless tests both in simulations and practical applications, but at no point had any scientist thought to see how the chemical reacted to the presence of semen and already established plant life. The smell of ozone grew more intense by the second, the ground growing warmer and warmer. The cornstalks around Dante started to stiffen, growing thicker and stronger as their cell walls became reinforced before they divided. New membranes and vacuoles formed. Fibers stretched out, anchoring themselves as the cytoplasm inside shifted and altered at an incredible rate.

What had at first started as an instinctive, empty, subconscious act of sexuality on Dante's part was starting to be reciprocated. The corn around the farmhand could sense heat, warmth, light, movement and even pheromones. It could sense in ways never before felt, and it could process those senses for the first time. It felt the weight of Dante's body above its roots, tasted the remnants of his cum in the dirt, smelled the sweat on his skin and it felt the interesting pleasure of having a mouth around its ear of corn. This was no longer a strange act of masturbation, it was something mutual... and just as Dante had experienced after ingesting the fertilizer, the new being wanted more.

The wind sifted through the cornfield, making the stalks bow and bend. When the wind stopped, a few of the stalks kept bending. Some of the leaves and husks flexed and curled. The plant tested itself, new cells growing as leaves stretched out a bit longer. It took a few practice tries, some of the stalks behind Dante flexing even more. The human had no idea he was standing in the midst of the genesis of new life, that he had brought the missing ingredients, or that he was the sole focus of the rising consciousness. As the farmhand kept sucking off the corn, there wouldn't be another chance to.

In less than a second, four stalks suddenly whipped down, curling around Dante's wrists and ankles. More slapped and swiped down across his flesh to wrap and hold him in place. Dante grunted in surprise, sputtering and clenching down, ushering forth a few more precious drops of seed that were eagerly absorbed into the roots beneath him. A quick flash of Dante's eyes peeked out from beneath his hat, but as the corn started to plunge itself into his mouth of its own volition he quickly relaxed back into the agricultural embrace.

As the human so eagerly sucked on the corn, tiny fibrous tendrils began to creep out of the soil, slipping over his boots before dipping in and sliding up the inside of his coveralls. The tendrils slipped between his leg hairs, pressing against the surface tension of his skin. Microscopic roots pressed into his flesh to get a better grip. The new organism started to reach out for other resources. It fanned out its leaves to collect more sunshine, sent taproots deeper before eventually reaching the ditch at the edge of the field to absorb more water. Every second that passed resulted in thicker stalks, plumper leaves and lengthening corn.

Tendrils peeked out from the edge of his coveralls, crossing Dante's stomach before finally reaching his nipples. The plant material circled and squeezed the nub of flesh, using it both as an anchor and a pleasure point as it continued. The soil beneath Dante began to crumble and break apart as new vines burst forth, sprouting leaves every few inches along the length. The vines followed after the tendrils, essentially turning them into a rough draft. Some of the vines slipped around Dante's legs, one coiled over his shoulder, and yet another teased the nape of his neck. Dante wasn't fighting any part of it. If anything, he was embracing it all.

While the farmhand's contact with the fertilizer had been in low levels at first, the longer he stayed in the field the more he absorbed. The tendrils that pressed into his skin were soaked with it and it still hung in the air like an invisible haze. More leaves rustled as a stalk that had lost its ear of corn emerged, the husks whipping around like the mandibles of a leafy insect. It inched closer and closer, the layers of parchment like greenery slowly opening up. It inched ever closer to Dante until suddenly it lunged. The husks wrapped themselves over the farmhand's cock, coiling and tightening, squeezing it and milking it.

Dante squirmed against his confines, feeling his cock enveloped. The layers of the husks slowly knit themselves together, locking around Dante. More vines began to wrap around his rams and legs, even some around his midsection. The leaves tickled his skin, but the pressure was far more imposing as the vines squeezed and constricted. Soon Dante wasn't even able to get the corn out of his mouth, merely having to content himself with its presence prying his jaw apart. A tickle alerted the farmhand to the vine creeping along his taint, slipping from his balls between his legs. The tiny tip began to brush at the fissure between Dante's cheeks, testing and probing the fissure before it began wriggling in.

The young man's back arched, a muffled moan escaping his corn filled lips. His cheeks were puffy, his lips plump, his body drenched with sweat. He was ensnared tighter than a fly in a spider's web, only on a much larger scale. The cornstalks had been networking together, tangling roots with one another as the cells divided, new fibers grew, plant metabolisms shifted and clusters of nerve-like fibers grew more and more complex, enhancing the processing power of the new entity, allowing for more complicated thought. With that thought came new ideas, and with new ideas came new machinations.

Once more the soil was disrupted, but this time it was not displaced by any ordinary root, vine or stalk. Five points of silky, waxy translucent yellow-green fiber emerged. Each one was pointed like a spade at the tip, fanning out wider and wider. The dirt fell away as the waxy leaves climbed up higher, each one with a slight curved twist. The structures climbed higher like some sort of lotus blossom, surrounding Dante. The farmhand wasn't even able to open his eyes to see the looming threat as it rose higher and higher. A few of the vines had to retract, replaced with others coming in from other angles. It was a delicate dance, but one that Dante was far from leading.

While the first vines had been fast, the waxy leaves rose up around the farmhand with a graceful, steady inevitability. They curved in at the top, growing wider at the base, slowly rotating and closing into interlocking segments. Even as the leaves slipped over one another in layers, the sun penetrated the translucent material, making them glow with a golden-green light. As the leaves slipped over one another, the shape began to constrict and contract, moving from a bulb shape to something tighter and more oblong. As they pressed out wider, the material thickened until it began to resemble corn husks. The vines that had been used to restrain Dante suddenly popped as they detached. Some pieces reeled back into the stalks, others fell to the ground and withered. With Dante's entire body enclosed, there was no use for the primitive restraints.

Every second brought the plant more thought and consciousness, but for Dante it seemed it wasn't as important to think. He sensed the heat and light of the sun passing through the husks protecting him. He felt the pressure and presence of the planty vines and tendrils, and he felt a warm, slick, wetness suddenly spill into his boots. It must have been rising inside the husks for some time, only to pour in when it filled high enough. The sudden diversion of the liquid halted its climb for a few moments, but when Dante's boots were filled, the aloe began to rise once more. It soaked through his coveralls, sloshing around his legs and waist. The vine holding the stalks over his groin had detached as well but it had left his manhood encased in a husk of its own.

It took less and less effort to stand as the aloe rose higher, slipping over Dante's waist, his navel, his chest, and then his shoulders. The ear of corn that he'd been so dutifully been sucking for so long plunged tightly against his mouth, sealing itself to the hilt, his lips stretched to their maximum. The aloe pumped into the husk around him, rising up across his throat, his fuzzy chin, his cheeks, then higher. It felt strange as the syrupy goo tickled at his nose, then slipped inside. Dante squirmed a bit at that, tugging against the last pieces of vine and pressing against the shell around him as his most basic instinct clashed with the euphoria the plant had imbued him with. As much as he might have struggled, however, it seemed as if he had plenty to breathe... but just what was he breathing?

The aloe rose up past Dante's nose, slipped over his eyes and began to soak into his hair and his hat until the husk was full to the brim. The tiny fibers fed oxygen into his bloodstream while bubbles of carbon dioxide were absorbed into the husk itself. The tendrils in Dante's ass slithered in and out while he all but floated inside the pod. Copious amounts of the fertilizer soaked into his skin, saturating his bloodstream. Every involuntarily rise and fall of his lungs pumped more of the aloe into his system, and from there the unique mix of organic and synthetic began to react once more.

Little by little, Dante started to feel more drawn to the light that filtered through his protective cocoon. His bronzy skin began to change hues as if it was oxidizing, taking on a lighter shade until it took a definitive turn for the green end of the spectrum. His dark black bristly hair softened and bleached out, taking on a summery wheat color before brightening further into a bleach-blond corn silk hue. Even the hair around his manhood got thicker and softer at the same time, each hair taking on the strength and flexibility of small fibrous succulent roots.

The long, lingering sun sank ever so slowly toward the horizon, descending inch by inch. The shadows cast by the corn grew longer and the Reaper floated down yet another row as it sprayed its chemical payload on more of the future harvest. Far at the edge of the field, the cocoon that held Dante was growing bigger again. The waxy husk was full of far too much aloe, the detritus of the vines and leaves that had been holding the farmhand drifting to the bottom of the pod. The young man - if he could still be considered such - floated as if he was in the womb. In a way he was. The plant had become his new creator, reshaping him in its image.

The air began to cool and a slow, rising harmony came from the formerly quiet field as crickets began to chirp and make their presence known. The corn pod squirmed slightly, shuddered, and then sprung a leak. A tiny gush of aloe escaped before the entire thing burst like a water balloon. The clear syrupy goo gushed out through the cornstalks, feeding its complex amino acids to the roots of an ever wider array of plants, leaving one lone figure standing in the middle of the chaos.

Dante had landed back on his feet, though a few stray pieces of leafy scraps clung to him. His skin was the shade of grass in late spring when the days got just a bit too hot. His hair, mustache and goatee were a silky yellow bordering on the edge of white. His hat still sat low, the brim obscuring his eyes while his bare shoulders poked out from the last remaining strap on his coveralls. The tendrils withdrew from his well tested ass and one last corn husk reluctantly withdrew itself from the farmhand's new and improved green cock. The white bush around his shaft only drew more attention to how plump and full it was.

The young man's head slowly lifted, his eyelids parting to reveal solid black eyes. His skin glistened with the residue of the pod even as the sweet smelling wind blew against his skin. For the first time in over an hour, Dante's mouth was unoccupied as it opened up, revealing his tongue had turned green and grown longer. It slipped across his lips, collecting the last tastes of the aloe that had soaked him through. His fingers twitched, his hands flexed, his cock quivered and his nostrils flared.

Dante was no more. His life and experience, his drives and ambitions had all gone fallow. He was the hand of the farm, an agent of the field, a creature born to instinct and drive - a corn stalker. It was nearly time for the harvest, for the corn to prepare for its next phase of life. It was time for him to sow the seeds of the future. Dante kicked off his boots, letting them land with a slosh as the aloe ran out of them. Dante took a step off the root of the pod, pausing to let his toes dig back and forth in the dirt a bit before he started walking again, his green arms swinging at his sides. It was time for nature to reap humanity for a change.