The first thing you notice upon awakening was the thick cloth tied securely over your eyes, its knotted ends pulling ever so slightly against your hair. The cloth sits just behind your ears, allowing you to hear the room around you without obstruction. You tilt your head to the left and to the right, until you hear a series of footsteps approaching from behind you.
A set of arms then drapes around your shoulders, their fingers caressing tenderly over your bare chest. The realization of being naked causes you to thrash around, yet it’s impossible to fully escape the nylon cords securing you to your chair. In spite of the room’s unusual warmth, the embarrassment of being so exposed causes you to shiver. The caressing hands detect your apprehension and move teasingly down your waist. A pair of lips softly presses itself to your neck.
“W-What’s going on? Who are you?”
The hands fall away, those lips breathing a mischievous cackle into your left ear. “Who I am isn’t really important, though to answer your first question… I suppose it would be best to call this an evaluation.”
“What do you mean, an evaluation? Why am I tied up like this? Why am I naked!?”
“You sure do protest a lot for someone in your position.” The voice was that of a woman, a fact all the more amplified by her draping her thighs over yours. You feel a hot wetness oozing from her slit onto your shaft, its pungent aroma blending with that of her sweat. She presses her right armpit against your face, and before you know it, your tongue starts to trace all over that smooth, sweaty flesh. She giggles in amusement, rolling her hips and pressing her soft breasts to your upper body.
“That’s it, sweetie. I want you to memorize my smells, my taste and the touch of my body. Commit all of this to memory so it may become a part of your identity…” Her other hand guides your shaft through her tender opening. The tightness sends shockwaves of ecstasy through your entire body, rapidly milking you of precum. Your fingers and toes curl up in response, your eyes closing shut as it becomes harder and harder to resist her movements. While your hips thrust haphazardly against hers, a series of passionate moans escapes you.
The closer your mind inches to orgasm, the harder it becomes to think of anything else. You briefly consider shouting for help, only to realize that nobody would hear. The nylon cords crossing under your thighs serve as a clear indication that any attempt to shimmy free of them would be impossible. Considering all angles, you reason that: if impaling herself on you was the worst this woman had to offer, then surely there would be no harm in allowing it, would there?
Her movements speed up, her toenails scratching across your bare legs. The smell of her is all around you now, as if painted onto your skin. You are the receptacle of her sex, and it brings you to the very limits of your sanity. You cum, unloading all of your semen into her, screaming into her mouth with all of your energy. Finally, as the sensations burn themselves out, an exhaustion overtakes you, your reality fading to nothing.
You aren’t sure how long it takes for you to awaken again, but again you find yourself unable to see. Your perceptions instead turn toward the unique smells which surround your body – wood lumber, and perhaps some kind of laundry detergent. A bizarre dryness plagues your taste buds, making it impossible to speak. You no longer feel restraints on your skin, yet you still find it impossible to move. You’re forced to simply lay there for several minutes, unsure of what could be next.
A movement in the space surrounding you brings you back to reality. The black ceiling opens before you, revealing a sight which fills you with shock and horror. A giant hand moves down from above, grabbing you and pulling you higher. When your vision adjusts, you see the hand is attached to a woman who is surely dozens of times larger than you. Though you scream as hard as possible, all you hear is silence.
She has the physique of one who is in her late teens or early twenties. Her eyes are different colors, red in one eye and yellow in the other. Jet black hair flows down to the middle of her back, and her overall physique is one of marked athleticism. As she caresses your body with her fingers, you can feel how smooth and delicate they are, her nails freshly manicured.
“Humans are such lovely creatures, aren’t they? Once they’ve fixated on a facet of the body, it becomes so deeply ingrained in their psyche that it reshapes their very existence.” Her voice is one you recognize immediately. If this really was the same person, then how had she become so gigantic? Or maybe…
Was I shrunk down somehow? And what is she referring to? Could it be she isn’t human?
“The overwhelming majority are blind to the shape of their psyche and the reality of their fixation. Freud attempted to elaborate on this in his many research studies on early childhood development, yet not even he had a means to view the true shape of another. The magic I wield grants me a knowledge which surpasses divinity…”
Her words confuse you, but you listen anyway for there is little else you can do at the moment. Suddenly, she begins to lower you toward the floor. There is an intense pressure inside of your body, one which causes you to shake and shiver as every nerve feels stretched by something warm and smooth. The next thing you are intimately aware of is a powerful smell of feet, one which seems to enter not only your nose and mouth, but your very skin itself.
Your gut reaction is that the woman’s feet are pressing down on you, though at the same time, you feel yourself above them, your vision somehow floating above the ground. Your consciousness seems to have stretched out, wrapping itself around her legs, and it’s that observation which prompts a new, much more terrifying revelation.
I have become her stockings…! She turned me into an article of clothing…!?
You realize now the true implications of the magic she had been alluding to. She reaches into another drawer, this time pulling out a pink rubbery dildo. Walking over to her bed, she tugs the rear of her panties upward, wedging them between her ass cheeks while exposing her slit enough for the dildo to enter. Does that mean all of her objects are…?
Twisting the dildo invokes a moan of pleasure from her, causing her to fall onto her mattress. She curls her toes, stretching your fabric tightly between each one. You feel, smell and taste her sweat dripping into your fabric, amplified by the memories you have from when you were human. You begin to crave it, your surface heating up from your own arousal, tightening and shivering ever so slightly against that wonderfully soft skin of hers.
The woman’s moans fill the room as she pushes the dildo further inside, until it disappears from view entirely. She slides the panties over her moist slit and then rubs herself through the material. As those white panties become absolutely soaked, you can’t help but wonder: Are they too the product of a captured soul? What about the dildo, which now lay marinating in the pungent and boiling juices of her snatch? If so, then how long had they been stuck as objects? More importantly, was it even possible to escape a fate like this?
The motions of the woman were becoming erratic. Every spasm of her muscles sent an equal spasm through the surfaces of your shape. Her sweat had soaked completely through, an aroma which seemed to bore itself into your very DNA. Your mind begins to scream as all thoughts and emotions are purged from your consciousness, a lustful agony of which there is no escape.
Above you, the screams of the woman reach their peak. She arches her back before unleashing a powerful orgasm, one which forces the dildo out of her slit and through the narrow gap of her panties. The mass of pink rubber rolls across the mattress, falling limply against your surface. You try to communicate with it, but you can’t figure out how.
The woman appears to fall asleep, leaving you wrapped around her legs for several hours. It isn’t long before the dildo’s trapped musk begins to spill over into you, further eradicating your free will. Just like hypnosis, the sensations of smell and taste and texture create within your mind a picture-perfect image of your owner. That word seems to echo repeatedly in your subconscious, drowning out any and all memories of the world you left behind.
Though slightly terrified by the outcome, a part of you seems to be relieved by it. Was that world really worth living in? Was being human really all that fun? This form feeds off her and doesn’t need sleep. It feels so… free of responsibility… free to… indulge…
As your mind finally reaches a state of total emptiness, your soul becomes fully inanimate, a prisoner to the pleasures of the woman who created you.