The Stranger 74

The Stranger in the woods

1

Emma Pinkerton never married. Not because she didn't want to or had no interest in forming long-lasting relationships, over the years she had had quite a few short affairs but nothing seemed to come of them, there was no fire between her and anyone else and at fifty-two Emma was resigned to the fact that she may never find the right person to spend her life with. There were some regrets at not finding the right man apart from companionship and closeness, Emma always wanted children - her maternal instinct was still very strong and she would watch children playing in the park or sitting in a cafe with their parents, making lots of mess with complete innocence - a loving family unit which she always felt was missing from her life.

But that said Emma liked living alone, it gave her freedom and autonomy - she was able to cook what she wanted as well as come and go as she pleased. Life was good with no ties. Although being her own personal chef meant she was heavier than she liked, she wasn't round but voluptuous in every way and as she had been told by many people - a very attractive woman with curves in all the right places - the curves were just bigger than she wanted.

Emma was always prepared on the off-chance that the right man would come along, with drawers full of feminine underwear and perfumes filling her bathroom cabinet. Every now and then when she was feeling sexually charged and usually after she had shaved and scraped all the hairs from her body, she would stand in front of her full-length mirror trying on her unused expensive underwear as a reminder to herself that she was a woman that men would find beautiful. The evening usually ended with her multi-speed lover, taking her from climax to climax, buzzing gently on her clit and slipping inside for other sensual delights.

Occasionally Emma's sexual urges were satisfied when a ballet was shown on BBC2, not that she enjoyed ballet but she really liked to watch the male dancers stretching and leaping. Something about their muscular thighs and perfectly round bulges did something to her in a primal way, although this was a complete secret, she could never tell anyone else about her 'ballet porn'. A couple of years back she saw a ballet on TV called Spartacus, not really knowing anything about the ballet she was glued to the screen, the main dancer spent most of the time wearing a leather loincloth and nothing else - ballet tights were lovely but a dancer without them - yes please she mused.

Emma fell asleep that evening massaging and caressing herself, fantasising about that hard-bodied dancer seducing her; her hands running over those taut arms and chest, the feel of his soft leather garment pressing against her body, her fingers exploring and making him naked...oh my God, Emma came over and over as her imagination took it to new heights.

As for Emma's work, it took her nowhere at all apart from the odd trip into London for a briefing, being a freelance illustrator for Dorling Kindersley and also being extremely good at what she did meant Emma could work from home, a small idyllic cottage she had lived in for over ten years with an acre of wooded land surrounding it, nestling in the heart of Oxfordshire. Life was good, but also quite lonely sometimes.

But Emma's life was about to change.

2

One of the loveliest things Emma felt about her home was the large wooded area surrounding her cottage - it was all hers, so much inspiration for illustrations. She would take her sketchbook and some pens out and sit, lost in her own world. She would sketch wildlife and plants to use at a later date - her friends asked why she didn't take photos with her phone but that just seemed far too instant and anyway, you only really see things when you look properly and drawing made that happen.

On this particular evening, while walking through the woods Emma saw something ahead in a clearing, for a moment a stream of fear ran through her - a person standing looking at her but not moving. As she moved cautiously closer she saw it was a young man. 'Hello, can I help you? This is my garden, are you lost? 'There was no answer, he just looked calmly but blankly at her. The young man was dressed oddly too, Emma thought he must be a college student on his way to a party. He was wearing what looked like a white knee length toga made of cotton tied at the waist with a shiny black sash and leggings made of what looked like plastic or rubber - definitely a student thing, Emma thought. She repeated her question again but with no answer.

Emma stood looking at the young man and was struck by how beautiful he was, slim body and limbs but with a dancer's look about them (oh, those dancer's again) - there was a look of strength in them but without the defined muscles. His arms were bare from the shoulders so Emma could see he must be about eighteen - twenty at the most. His skin was milky white and unblemished, his face smooth with full lips and a mop of light brown hair, and those eyes were of a striking green she had never seen before.

He did look a bit lost and something about him looked a bit well, simple. Emma thought this was a cruel joke to play on a fellow student, dressing him up and leaving him in the woods to freeze, although it wasn't really that cold. 'Are you alright? Let's get you indoors to warm up.' Emma said. Again, there was no reply, the young man stood and looked around at the trees calmly. 'I'm Emma, are you okay - can I call someone for you?' There was still that blank expression on his face and again he didn't answer, Emma was a bit shocked when the young man took her hand as a child would and smiled. 'Oh, right...erm, let's get you inside then.' She smiled nervously and led him back to the cottage.

While they walked Emma noticed how slight this stranger was, he stood at about five four, the same height as Emma and because of his slight build seemed to float with every step, Emma had the feeling he was a lot older than he looked - something in his eyes showed experience and deep knowledge.

At the cottage, Emma fumbled in her pocket for the front door key and took him inside. Oddly, for a woman alone who wasn't used to receiving strangers into her home, she didn't feel uneasy letting him in, sure that she could overpower the young man due to his size, she must have outweighed him by at least 20lbs.

When inside the stranger let go of her hand and sat on the floor by the fireplace. Emma tried speaking to him again but he just looked at her with that faint smile, his large green eyes again seemed to belie his apparent age with that look of old experience in them. Emma disappeared into the kitchen and made them both a hot cup of tea, she set his down on the rug in front of him. She thought she should call the Police as the strange man was saying nothing and gave no reason for alarm, but for some reason she didn't think she should. There was something quite compelling about him which Emma felt was reassuring, it seemed to give her strength in some way. A feeling she'd never had from meeting anyone before.

After the stranger had finished the mug of hot tea Emma took the cups out into the kitchen and when she returned the boy was laying on the rug asleep on his back, one leg outstretched and the other bent to his waist, his arms under his head which made the toga ride up around his thighs. Emma could see that he wasn't wearing leggings after all but long stockings strapped around his thighs with a wide strip of the same shiny fabric, a small wedge of white flesh above the stockings and below the hem of the toga. This made her heart flutter - a brief memory of Spartacus flashed through her mind - a movie she watched every time it was on when she was a teenager, only to study the gladiators in their loin cloths and togas. Why on earth would that make her feel different she thought to herself, of course this strange young man was wearing fancy dress, it was a bit kinky but he's probably just been or going to a party or something! And anyway, he was far too young for her to have interest in. 'Why did I think that?' Emma muttered to herself and blushed.

Was it too late to call the Police, this half naked stranger asleep on her floor (wearing stockings) ...what would that look like? She decided to let him sleep and fetched a blanket from the bedroom. Covering him up she decided to sit and read on the sofa with a glass of wine. She was definitely distracted, the vision of those long shiny stockings kept stopping her from concentrating and she kept looking over at his sleeping form.

The glass of wine became four and she knew she was losing grip on herself control, the wine fuelling her libido.

After half an hour Emma took another look over the top of her book and noticed the stranger had kicked off his blanket, he was still laying on his back, arms above his head and toga mostly around his waist. 'Oh my word, he is actually wearing plastic knickers!' Emma's mind jumped. They were the same shiny black material as the boots and sash, the material was seamless, they wrapped high around his waist, covering his navel and arced sharply down from his hips to between his thighs below, where a large tightly packed pouch reflected the lamplight in its shiny mound, it was so big she thought he must have a couple of socks jammed down there. Emma also noticed a tattoo of what looked like a Z on his thigh just above his right stocking.

My God, she was feeling quite horny but she supposed it was just the wine fuelling her urges. She kept telling herself that this was a very young man and no matter how beautiful he was - he was too young for her!

Laying her book down on the sofa, Emma stood up and knelt beside the him, she lay the blanket back over his sleeping form and felt slightly disgusted with herself for her sensual thoughts and quickly sat back on the sofa blushing again. Another image from the past came back to her from an early age, a time when she was watching Swan Lake on the TV in black & white and felt a tingle in her groin. She was watching the male ballet dancers with their tights and bulging dance belts again, stretching and leaping but didn't feel as though she could tell he Mother about it. My God, this young man would look amazing dressed in ballet gear! Again, Emma felt very disgusted with herself.

Emma realised she couldn't concentrate on her book and gave up, she just sat and watched him sleep. Every time he moved the blanket moved down a little more, his thighs and hips almost glowing white against the rug and the dimness of the room.

When the stranger finally awoke Emma was still staring at him, her face was flushed, her nipples hurt and her fingers were very close to the tops of her thighs - daring to move closer to the point of no return. He was laying on his front, his toga completely around his waist, the black shiny fabric cut a sharp triangle up across his tight bottom to the waistband clinging to every curve.

While Emma watched the stranger sleep she noticed there was no hair on his body at all, just smooth white skin, not that he's been shaved but that there didn't seem to be any evidence of hair. No scars or marks, just that small Z tattoo. Emma decided she would call him Zak because of the Z tattoo as 'the stranger' sounded far too 'odd' in her mind and made her feel worse about herself.

How could she call the Police now, she had seen things which she wanted to keep looking at. Feeling very horny but also disgusted with herself she didn't know what to do. The wine was making her bad, it always did this. She looked down at him and Zak was looking at her, she stood up and Zak did the same, his toga dropped down to his knees as it was before.

'You must know who you are?' Emma said with a slight slur in her voice, her cheeks felt very warm. Zak just stood there looking passively at her. 'What's all this anyway, some kind of joke?' Zak took Emma's hands with both of his and his eyes looked so very sad, they closed and Emma felt a sharp pressure behind her eyes and everything whirled, she was suddenly somewhere else, a different time and place? She didn't know but it felt different. Emma had the feeling she was floating and that she had no body at all, no taste or smell but she could see and hear perfectly. She felt surprisingly calm with not a hint of panic and watched the story play out as if she was watching a movie.

3

Emma felt like a ghost, floating above the ground with no physical feeling. The Zak wore a similar toga as he now wore but his legs were bare, he was dirty and looked lost, walking through a busy market - this looked old yet new, some of the buildings around her were steel and glass but some were very old looking, almost ancient.

The people in the market wore mostly togas, some wore that shiny plastic material. Zak moved among them, his white hairless skin although dirty was still glowing, set apart from the people around him - oddly, he seemed to move through them unnoticed. A large man appeared wearing armour and a sword, he moved swiftly from nowhere and pushed through the crowd, his thick shiny armour creaked as he moved, pulled tight over his muscular frame. He towered over Zak and led him into a small car type vehicle hovering about a foot above the ground.

Suddenly Emma felt that pressure again and she was moving quickly - she was inside a large building, ornate fabrics hung from the high stone ceilings but some of the building was futuristic with huge glass panels and chrome struts, there was music coming from somewhere else close-by - the faint twang of a instruments she had never heard before, electronic but also acoustic.

The soldier appeared at the large fabric covered doorway with Zak, he said something to a group of women dressed in togas, they too wore these shiny leggings/stockings. Surprisingly, Emma understood what he said - 'I found him in the market, make sure you do what you need to do to clean him up, the President will want to watch him later.' 'Watch him later?' Emma thought, watch him do what?

The women silently took him into another room with a large deep sunken bath, the bath filled quickly with steaming water which must have been fed from underneath as there were no taps, it bubbled and foamed until full. Two of the women pulled the toga over Zak's head and Emma noticed he was wearing a pair of those shiny black knickers again, the waistband wide around Zak's waist covering the whole of his midriff, high cut on the legs so Zak's thighs looked extremely long and lithe. Emma liked this look very much and wondered why men in her own world didn't adopt it. The back of this garment cut sharply across Zak's tight bottom and at the front was that tightly packed pouch, not in proportion with the rest of him. Please don't move away again Emma thought as the women started to unroll the tight black fabric down his waist. They kept rolling it down his hips and Emma was suddenly whisked to another part of the room. She felt a real sense of frustration by being moved at the crucial moment but felt a sexual buzz in her head when she saw him in the deep hot water. Zak was chest deep and Emma hovered over the bath, she looked down into the bubbling water desperately trying to see what she'd missed, but everything was blurry under the water.

The women didn't seem interested at all, bathing him roughly with cloths and a fine sand which foamed when wet. Emma waited patiently for Zak to get out of the bath, he stood up and the water rippled around his waist, she heard a humming sound and the floor of the bath was rising, the water dropping down below Zak's waist. Emma watched intently, hoping she wouldn't be torn away again. As Zak's bath lifted out of the water Emma could see the start of a very thick cock and as the water lowered it seemed to go on and on, by the time the water was around Zak's knees Emma could see his large balls, huge and full and round, his cock hung halfway down his thighs, thick and smooth with no veins.

She could feel her head aching and knew she would be rubbing herself raw at this if the 'only had a body'.

Zak must have been dried completely (which Emma had wished she'd seen but her visions had moved forward in time) and oiled because his skin shone like it had been varnished, his hair oiled back. Emma studied his whole body and realised she was moving around the room floating, unseen by anyone. Zak's bottom was smooth and tight, his arms and legs showed slight muscle-tone and when she moved around to the front she could see the women had oiled him there too. He looked like he was made of shiny plastic.

Emma watched closely as the women performed Zak's dressing with complete precision. They moved Zak's feet and stepped him into a shiny metallic thong with a very wide waistband, they pulled it up high around Zak's waist and adjusted the contents of his pouch, pushing his huge flaccid cock down under his balls. There was a bright red button high on the waistband, one of the women pressed it and the whole garment shrunk to Zak's body, vacuumed around every bump and curve cupping its content perfectly as the silver thong disappearing down between his bottom. A clean white toga was pulled over Zak's head and fell to his knees then a silver metallic sash made of the same shiny plastic material was tied around Zak's waist and he was finished.

This drifting about was very annoying, Emma was moving again and was somewhere else. She was in a large hall with lots of people, the centre of the room was empty apart from a large octopus-like creature on the floor, Emma thought it was a statue at first because it was too large to be an octopus and also it was out of water! But this was real, it was horrible as it slithered across the stone slabs, its bright green body glistening leaving wet trails like a giant slug.

The creature's head had small black beads for eyes much like a shark. It moved across the smooth stone polished floor with its tentacles, long and muscular with suckers (just like an octopus) running down the length of each one, becoming small at each tip. Emma wasn't sure she wanted to see this but there was nothing she could do to look away, she couldn't even close her eyes.

That strange music started to play and she could see a small group of musicians with odd looking instruments, there were no speakers but the acoustics in this large hall type room was amazing. Zak walked into the hall through a large door, looking shiny and oiled and as if instinctively started dancing to the strange music. He danced like an angel, stretching his arms and legs, arching his back, swirling and spinning his body looked so strong when he danced and when he spun around everyone cheered, spinning continuously in one foot for what seemed like an eternity. Zak's toga spun around him, it slowly lifted from his knees up to his waist and she could see everything. Zak's shiny silver pouch showed his impressive size, his largeness apparent to everyone and his bottom tight.

It was then Emma saw a woman laying on a large red velvet sofa, she was huge (was she a statue?), the length of her body suggested she was very tall. She stared at Zak intently, smiling broadly. Her skin was completely white and she had high hard cheekbones with unkind eyes, her long black hair slick like a raven's feathers.

The music wound down and stopped, Zak stopped with it, his feet directly in front of the creature. The giant woman clapped twice and gestured for two servants to run over to Zak from each side, they put leather cuffs around his ankles and double one about his wrists so they were bound together, locking them tight - something was happening and Emma wasn't sure what it was. Zak smiled that slight smile she knew as his arms were pulled invisibly upwards above his head and he was hoisted off the floor hanging there, his feet inches above the flagstones.