Dear Olive Ch 07

Dear Olive,

Some days, I still wake up with the taste of you in my mouth. It fills me, brings me to the peak of pleasure. I try so hard not to think of it, I try so hard to move on. But it permeates me, the memory follows me everywhere. Will I ever see you again? It is all I think of, no matter how grateful I am for my life now. When will you come back to get me?

****************************************************************************

I woke up, tethered to red satin sheets, a heart shaped headboard and a full-body mirror above me. Tugging on my straps, I turned my head wildly trying to figure out where I was. A small desk piled with perfumes and makeup sat in the corner. Beyond the queen-sized bed I could just make out a persian rug on the concrete floor. It almost looked like a movie set... like someone had thrown everything together last minute. In the corner opposite to the desk was a heavy wooden door. On the cold concrete walls were old, ornate candelabras.

Where the hell was I? Some love nest in an old drafty castle? I tried to draw from the shallow pool of recent memory. The dance concert... Stella, and Candace. Just remembering the way they used me up made me flex my wrists against my straps in pleasure. How can I explain? Sometimes I feel surrounded by complete and healthy people. I've never felt like that. Just thinking about the future, getting a job, having a long-term relationship -- let alone being emotionally and mentally consistent from day to day -- takes a huge effort. Everything Olive has been teaching (or training?) me for, especially with Stella and Candace, changed that. All of the sudden, my future wasn't

mine

anymore. I couldn't feel down and out when there was someone always there to tell me what to do, how to feel, and where to keep my eyes. I couldn't get enough of it.

Before I could finish my thought, I heard a metallic, crackly sound. Like a loudspeaker in an old movie. For a moment there was a cool atmospheric sound, like the mic on the other end was bouncing a silent room back to me. And something in that silence made me

sure

that Olive was on the other end. I could hear her -- probably looking down the stem of the mic, a deadly mixture of love and evil swirling in her big bright eyes. I almost felt her part her lips, a smirk trailing smoothly into speech: "Well, Goldmund, we meet again. So sorry it has to be under these circumstances."

I looked down at myself, spread like a starfish across this cheap, heart-shaped bed. Something like thick, curdled joy and fear and anticipation crawled up from my stomach and into my throat. "Wah! Tear me apart! you are the pulsing ant queen of my delirium. Cull me from my fleshy tube, I'm tired of this world, this spinning wheel of shame and brutal, mistimed life." I felt the hot trashy nonsense spill from my lips. I tried to curl myself but I could only manage to press my wrists and ankles against my restraints. I felt the red, silky sheets shift under me.

"Well, we've come such a long way, haven't we? But I can't have you jumping off the deep end quite yet, Goldmund. After all, I don't want to hurt you

too

badly, just reshape you. Mold you..."

I heard Olive's words coming from the speaker, probably hidden behind the mirror above me. I looked at myself, splayed and vulnerable on the bed. "Okay, I don't know where that came from. I'm happy to be here... but Olive, please do what you need to soon. I'm officially giving up. I know you are totally beyond me, and I accept that now." It took all the strength I had to say what I needed to. Something inside me wanted to be unleashed, to spill my whole life into the mold Olive had waiting for me. To tell the truth I

did

want it, so badly. But sometimes it felt like my words moved beyond me. Almost like Olive was inside of me, telling me the words to say back to her... like her living puppet.

"Good. I promise I won't make you wait too long. But I do need to warn you of something. The experiment I am about to perform... it may change things for you. Possibly forever. I have tried and failed many times, but you give me hope -- something I haven't experienced in a long time."

I felt a surge of fear and excitement bloom in my chest. I looked quickly at my past of dust, rows and rows of empty beginnings, trailing off into nowhere. And my future? It collapsed with the rest of me. I was here with Olive's powerful voice, and her plan. What else was there for me outside of this room? Suddenly my fear melted into a calm sea of acceptance. "Don't worry about me. I'm ready."

"Whatever you say, Goldmund. I'll say it one more time. At the end of this process, you

will not

be you." Olive ended her note in breathy excitement. I felt my mind wandering. Could it be that... she was masturbating somewhere, on the other end of that speaker? I knew it. I could feel the early lapping and swelling of an orgasm, set firmly in her future.

"I probably deserve that. I'm tired, do whatever you need to do," I said. Suddenly a soft, intelligent clanking sound broke the silence in my chamber. It was coming from behind the mirror on the ceiling, where I saw my fists and feet pointing to the four corners of the room. Then, a soft electric buzz filled the room and a hundred red lights scattered across the mirror. I tilted my head down to look at my body, and saw tiny red dots of light covering me from head to toe.

"Okay, you asked for it. 3... 2... 1... Action!" Olive said, her voice charged with intense focus.

The room seemed to get dimmer, and my vision started to play tricks on me. The room curled into a saddle shape, then got sucked away like a sheet being yanked through a pinhole. The world vanished into darkness.

Still, I could hear a buzzing, sometimes speeding up to a higher pitch and occasionally slowing down until it sound like a series of clicks. My whole body began to feel like it was in a balmy bath, or a set of sheets fresh out of the dryer. Then, I felt something that startled me. It felt like I was being stretched out and flattened, my face curving in like taffy, my arms and legs curling back like soft rubber. Suddenly my hands and feet stretched and pulled out from the cuffs that kept me on the bed. I tried to move, but I couldn't tell if the swirling and disorientation I felt came from my own movement, or something else. I felt the bed start to get bigger under me, the wrinkles on the bed sheet slowly getting bigger until they felt like huge ridges the size of my body.

I thought I was going to throw up, but the sensation of my stomach and mouth started to trade places. I couldn't tell what was inside of me, and what was outside. Eventually I felt myself stop flattening and curling, twisting and curving, and my face, my hands and feet, my torso and between my legs felt like they were all rearranged.

After what felt like an eternity, the transformation slowed to a stop. I laid there feeling twisted, pulled and turned in all directions. It was as if the phantom of my body surrounded me in a fog: the memory of my arms and legs, strapped to the sides of my torso in a star shape; and my head, like a bowl that my essence used to sit in, drained and dissolved in the space around me. For the first time, I felt like I had no center, no parts and nothing to hold onto. Of course I couldn't move -- what was there

to

move? My own body, or whatever I was now, was completely strange and unfamiliar territory. Because I couldn't sense any part of myself, I couldn't move an inch. I was stranded on a bed the size of a football field, arched over a wrinkle or two of the bed sheet.

Suddenly, I began to see again. While what was left of my body laid still on the bed, my vision faded in several feet above the bed. I was looking down at the bed -- at myself. But I could still feel every inch of my new body.

At first I didn't see anything... but eventually the new feeling of my body matched up with something lying on the bed. It was a... a

sock!

I was a sock! A no show, made to hug low, just below the ankle. I looked a bit small for a foot, but I could almost feel the soft, stretchy fabric of my arch. I was a deep red color all around, with a thin band of black color around my top... where someone's foot would go. In the middle of my arch, there was a bright white symbol marking the fabric. It looked like a simple spiral, a kind of visual accent.

"Well Goldmund... mmh... it looks like you are the first to survive the transformation. Look at yourself. A sock! And just who will be wearing you tonight? I wonder..." said Olive, her voice beginning to drip in pleasure.

Suddenly, the door to the room opened, and in came Nimina.

Nimina! She wore black, form-fitting calf-length boots with thigh high white socks stopping just below her knee. Other than that, all she had on was a pair of tight blue cotton panties that rounded her ass in a taut, beautiful arc. Her bare breasts were smaller, like Olives, but firm. Her tan, slim figure glowed in the soft candlelight, her boots gently reflecting the light.

"I'll leave you two to it... don't mind me if I watch for a while!" Olive said, huffing from behind the speaker.

Nimina walked slowly, deliberately swaying her hips with each step, her long dark hair swaying like a liquid curtain around her narrow shoulders. The same wildness glittered and swam deep in her wide-set eyes. She sat down on the bed, crossing her legs. I watched her from above as she tugged on the foot of her boot, pulling her leg out of it. Her thin white sock was visibly damp at her foot, where her skin tone showed slightly through the translucent knee high. As she flexed her toes up in relief, I saw a light grey footprint stained onto the bottom of her creamy white sock. Slowly, she pulled off her other boot, and flexed the toes on both her feet.

Even though my new sock body was lying on the bed, Nimina seemed to know where my vision was floating above the bed, and she turned her head to look up, directly at me. A black curtain of hair partially hid one of her eyes. She didn't break eye contact as she peeled her sweaty knee highs down past her calf, and tugged it over her foot. As she peeled the sock down to her heel, she turned to lay on her back on the bed. Sticking her foot in the direction of my vision, she pulled both socks, slowly revealing her tan heel, her low arches, her broad soles, finally revealing her toes as the inside out sock slipped off completely. Her bare, sweaty feet shone in the light, so close to my vision. Suddenly I felt a thrill through my new body -- Nimina had curled her fingers around my arched fabric. As she played her fingers across me and picked me up, I felt my vision descend back into my sock body. I was looking up at Nimina from the top of my sock as she looked mischievously through the part of her hair, directly at me.

"You may think you're ready," Nimina said in a tiny clear voice, "but you're not." I watched Nimina helplessly as she lowered me down to her foot. Suddenly I smelled the familiar musk of her foot, radiating from the heat and moisture of her soles, heels and toes.

Suddenly Nimina's face was blocked from view by her foot, looking gigantic compared to my sock body. As she pointed her tanned toes toward me, I saw her toes, huge, glistening in the amber light in front of me, and her low arch faded into shadow below it. Her foot flooded my vision, then disappeared as I felt her toes brush past the elastic front rim of my body, and slowly slip into the soft red pocket of my sock body.

I felt my front balloon with the shape of her toes, stretched wider by her fingers on either side of my rim as she slipped her last two toes in. In the confused configuration of my new body, it felt like she was a giantess pressing her huge, soft toes into my skin, pressing harder and firmer. And, it felt like she was stretching my mouth wider and wider, pushing her huge toes into my empty, elastic body. I felt my outsides mold to her shape. And at the same time, it felt like she was stretching my ass open, pushing her moist and smelly toes deeper and deeper inside of me.

As soon as her toes touched my fabric, pushing inside of me, I felt my soft absorbent fabric wick the moisture off her toes and get sucked into me. It was like a flooding taste and smell, but deeper, like all my fluids had been replaced with her salty moisture, her musky scent of hidden darkness and fruit at the peak of ripeness.

Her toes stretched my fabric, spanning tightly across each toe gap and bulging at each toe print. Her big toe swelled at the front, pressing deep into me, until I could feel the heat of her sweat radiating through the hundreds of tight gaps in the mesh of my sock body's fabric, pulled too tight around her big toe. The road curve of her toenail imprinted itself on the top of my sock body, and I imagined the color of her tan big toe mixing lightly with my red fabric, passing lightly through my thin mesh.

Surely I couldn't take any more! But I felt Nimina hook her pointer finger into the back of my sock body, which was half-folded, hanging back just behind the ball of her foot. She tugged my heel pocket back, stretching my arch fabric to fit the form of her broad sole and arch. I felt ridges form in my fabric as she tugged, felt her toes stretch into me more. The deep pleasure of her sweat seeping into me, steeping me in her essence, already starting to stain at the bottom of her toes... electric thrills ran up and around my fabric, across the humps of her toes, across the ball of her foot and down to her hooked finger. It was like I was a spider web being plucked by Nimina, trembling on the brink of delirium.

And just when I thought I couldn't take any more, I felt Nimina slip her heel down into the back heel pocket of my sock body, letting the back elastic of my rim snap into shape against her Achilles heel. My arch stretched like a saddle over hers, her heel rounding my back pocket, shaping it tight, seeping into me.

Finally my crumpled sock shape had a big, full form. It felt like the deepest loneliness to be a sock without a foot, without Nimina's sweat to bring my sock body to life. I felt my red fabric accepting her sweat, until I was saturated and a slimy film of sweat coated her toes, a salty brine covering her heel. She flexed her foot, pointing it, spreading her toes in her brand new sock, and I felt my mouth, my insides, my everything stretched out, shocked into new waves of pleasure as her toes strained against my skin-tight form.

I felt her foot-heat wafting off of me, giving me back the warmth and scent of life. I was her host, her container, her flexible mold. And I swore I would never go back.

I stared up Nimina's leg, all the way to her deep dark eyes. She looked down at me, satisfied, and I felt the pleasure deepen. She had chosen me to slip her foot into. I was nothing but her smell, her warmth and moisture and footprint.

She looked down at me nefariously, picked up her boot, pointed her toe and slipped me into the hot dark cavern of her shoe. I felt myself slip down to the ankle of the boot, and finally slot into the shoe, her toes wiggling and pressing me into the sole and top of her shoe. I was snug in the deep, deep scent of years of her foot sweat and dirt. I felt the pressure of her foot on the ground as she slipped on her other boot and put her full weight onto me. She pressed me into the sole of her boot, her heel and the ball of her foot and the big toe pressing and mashing me into her foot sweat and grime.

I felt my sock body, drenched in sweat, tasting the deep musk of Nimina's foot sweat, stretched wide and deep with her heel and toes. She hummed to herself innocently as she walked out of the room.