Day Three
She was kneeling in a fountain in an amorphous landscape, several yellow clad figures attending her. The fountain's dark purple liquid was viscous, denser than water. It showered out of a central statue, splattering gently over all who stood near.
Suzy shuddered in joy as the figures scooped up the substance drizzling into a puddle at their feet and slowly massaged it into her pores. Her poor, aching muscles relaxed under the patient ministrations of the busy workers. There was no hurry to get anywhere, no worries to address. She was free to just
be
and soak in the moment and the attention.
She was sleeping again. She
knew
that she was sleeping, but that knowledge didn't help her to reject this reality. It just felt too good to stay there and relax, letting the slickly attired attendants coat her with happiness.
There was a slight disturbance lurking beneath the serene surface, but her slave self was able to suppress any dissonant emotions. Too often she tried to analyze everything, taking any possible joy out of a situation.
This time, she wanted to be able to let go and have things happen
to
her rather than having to be the prime driver of everything.
The figures surrounding her were saying something in unison, chanting softly, but she was so aroused that it was impossible to tell what their shiny lips were saying. She sighed in pleasure as the hands of the slaves continued to roam, working on coating every square inch of her body with the succulent fluid.
No part was free from their insistent intentions, their yellow masked heads bobbing regularly as they concentrated on polishing the surface of her bodysuit. The hands struck simultaneously at her erogenous zones, smothering her breasts and private parts with groping lasciviousness.
She moaned continuously as the faceless creatures massaged her
hard
, doing their best to spike her arousal. As the heat within her rose, the less frequent any questioning thoughts became. She was encased by the suit, was
becoming
the suit, and nothing else mattered.
She felt a strange twisting sensation, and suddenly she was floating in mid-air, just outside the figures standing in the fountain. She could see her body being ravished, struggling helplessly under the ever moving hands.
It was hard to stop herself from wanting to be back inside the crush of bodies, letting them take her arousal to new heights. What would it feel like, she wondered, to lose herself in the lurid display?
The strange twist happened again, her consciousness rushing towards the slick, heaving bodies. A sudden change in perspective made her dizzy, but it soon stabilized.
She was inside a body that wore a skin-tight suit, the sudden change in costume making her juice up. She wasn't in control, her borrowed body mechanically moving to an unknown beat as her hands leisurely moved over another woman's shiny buttocks.
She could feel the pinpricks of the piercings in her breasts pressing against the bodysuit, the warmth of her arousal increasing the amount of sweat trapped inside. Her mouth opened and closed to the rhythm of the music, forming the words of the chant as the syllables massaged her swollen lips - "
through productivity, we obey.
"
The chant continued, her willing mouth continuing to follow the unknown rhythm without her conscious control, each syllable making the tongue piercing clank in her mouth. She couldn't help herself, the need to obey and continue the chant seemed to be built into this drone's very essence.
Her hands dipped, the ooze from the fountain covering them with a slick substance. As if listening to unheard instructions, they rose again and moved towards the captive figure's obedient body. Now she was massaging the woman's breasts, coating every centimeter with the gooey liquid. She watched bemusedly as a droplet crested a nipple, flowing over the swollen curve of her breast.
It was easy to get caught up in the moment and let the sensations overpower her thoughts. There was a brief glimpse of another slave as her body gyrated, the woman's mouth opening at the same time as her own, a brief glimmer of light sparkling from a labret piercing.
Now that she had seen it, she became more aware of her own, its small weight easily going unnoticed. It felt good to be a yellow rubber pierced drone, together in sameness. It gave her purpose, her hands being more aggressive with their captive.
The person they were working on must become an obedient drone. She didn't yet understand their more perfect reality.
Under her hands, the figure moaned and shuddered, gasping away her silly resistance while shouting affirmations. Soon, she would be another drone, pierced and helpless to disobey.
Everything was as it should be. So why was she beginning to feel distressed?
Even as her body continued to chant, her thoughts began to escape the prison of the drone's mind. The pleasure of converting another could overwhelm her original consciousness for a short time, but it did not seem to suppress her for good.
She groaned. Why couldn't she get rid of these bad thoughts and be one with the music?
Her drone body stopped working on the new slave, her mouth cocked half open, frozen as if made of glass. Her old self started to gain control, lips forming a new word - "
no.
"
She whispered it at first, but soon she was chanting it louder than the other drones. "No, no, no, no,
no!
" she screamed, angry at her earlier submission. "This isn't me, and I
won't
accept it!"
She smiled in triumph at her strong will, doing her best to ignore the highly distracting outfit that squeezed her body. Her tongue clacked as she talked, a physical reminder of the power the strange landscape seemed to have over her.
Why had her imagination put her here? She had never worn an outfit like this in her life, despite the strange underwear she had recently received from Rankotech. Lip and nipple piercings were reserved for
bad
girls, not good ones like her! What kind of malign influence had infected her mind?
She backed away from the other drones as they continued to work on the woman gyrating beneath them. She felt no desire to join them, despite her current attire.
It was becoming scary how much she had enjoyed taking part in their activities. Fortunately, the drones didn't seem to take any notice of her absence, continuing on as enthusiastically as before. She wanted to look away, but the display was riveting.
She yelped as she bumped into an object behind her, her inattention reducing her awareness of her surroundings. In this dreamscape, she hadn't noticed anything else, so this was a surprise.
She froze as she turned on the immobile figure standing behind her, images from her past dream surfacing in her mind. Pure, purple eyes bored into hers with an intensity that pinned her in place.
It was the strange, controlling figure from her dream the day before, a purple latex outfit outlining her irresistible curves. She was suddenly unable to focus on anything but the figure's face and striking eyes.
Her soft lips opened, curving into a familiar word.
"OBEY!"
The single syllable penetrated her mind like the ring of a gong, striking her and spinning her consciousness out of the drone's body. She flew as if thrown by a pitcher, her sight scooting over the visions below on the ground.
Instead of coming to a hard stop, her movement slowed, as if hitting molasses. Now her vision was fixed forward, a plethora of sensations coming from this new frame of reference.
She was above the events that were still ongoing, the amorous drones continuing to molest the newly minted slave. It was hard to see what was going on, as the figures were masked by a flow of a strange substance from the fountain.
It took her a few moments before she realized an important fact - she
was
the fountain. Sprays of the liquid jetted forth from her turgid breasts, drenching the participants below.
She was unable to move, mounted on a pedestal, her nether regions filled with stony projections that spurted the substance into her body cavities from below. Each hand had been positioned under her breasts, clutching the two large prominences of endless flowing joy.
The new sensations were overwhelming, fighting with her rational mind. To be stuck here forever, providing lubricant for the slaves below, was an unbearably erotic thought. If only it didn't feel so
good!
She wanted to moan, but she was stuck in the position the lewd creator of the statue had put her in, a rush of liquid flowing through her body and out her breasts, tingling the entire way.
Here she sat, a monument to eroticism, bathing enslaved subjects with her undying love. This thought was oddly appealing, and she wondered what might become of her.
Then, the field of imagination imploded into nothingness.
***
Her eyes flashed open. The sounds of cars passing outside her apartment made her relax.
Thank goodness! It was just another weird dream - but this was the second night in a row she'd had one.
She had once read that strange dreams could be interpreted to reveal insights about what was happening in one's daily life. If so, what was her unconscious mind trying to tell her?
