Not What It Seems Part 4

 12/25

I was butter – every part of my body felt as if it had been melted and reshaped and my brain oozed and sloshed behind my eyeballs. My mind was liquid bliss and as long as I didn't let it set, I could ignore my less ideal reality indefinitely. The girl had doubled in size enveloped in that black latex catsuit and I was hers to mould as she saw fit. Every inch of my feminised body was exposed to her pain and her pleasure – a naughty/nice sundae of whips, chains and toys. I had struggled in place, encapsulated in my red rubber cocoon as she donned a strapon dildo, and yet the second she slid it into me, my fear and doubt had evaporated. I had been too ecstasy ridden to comprehend at the time, but the suit must have converted the sensory signals running to my brain because what I felt cannot be described in terms my male self could comprehend. I only dread to think where that shaft was really going once it broke through the eager lips between my legs.

Once the first orgasm had been ripped from my body, the girl adjusted the chain connected to my hood and bent me over an old pommel horse before splitting me in half once more with her gleaming black lance. In those two hours, I learned what it meant to be multi-orgasmic, how an anal orgasm differed from a vaginal one and what it was like to moan and scream with pleasure when your body no longer had strength to hold itself upright. By the time the girl lay me down on the floor for the final time and peeled the catsuit away from my glistening curves, I couldn't even remember my own name.

“We wasted so much time with all that dressing up, Simon,” the girl was cooing and brushing my freshly washed hair. I had been bathed once more and was sitting on a kind of office chair in some delicate white lingerie. “If only your student loan had cleared sooner, we could have skipped right to that level of fun.” She continued to brush and I tried to blink away the fuzz in my brain. As my afterglow thrummed and faded, the need to break from my prison returned. As incredible as the pleasure had been, there was no escaping its alien nature. On some cerebral level I had enjoyed being this girl's plaything while it lasted, but it was not who I was and the longer I spent in this slender existence, the more the choking desperation to be released grew. My eyes wandered and spotted the tablet on the desk five feet in front of me – my key. The girl had not bothered freezing me again and I braced myself in anticipation.

“You know I could lock you into this wonderful body if I wanted to?” The girl sighed behind me as if reading my mind. “Would that really be so bad?”

“Yes,” I stammered.

“Okay,” she sighed again, “but first let me show you something.” She put a hand over my eyes and spun the office chair 180 degrees. “I had my doubts about you, you know?” she caressed my neck. “When he first suggested you and said he knew you would try on the bodysuit, I was more than a little sceptical.” He? My breathing deepened. “Still, fair is fair and a deal is a deal. I don't think I got such a bad trade, do you?” She pulled her hand from over my eyes and I saw that I was facing a huge old factory window that looked down over the university buildings below. One story down, a laboratory light was on and a lone figure was adjusting some scientific apparatus.

“I don't understand,” my soft voice trembled in terror.

“You don't need to Darling,” the girl walked over to the window with the tablet in her hands and looked down at the student desperately trying to catch up on his research after many months of disruption. The girl tapped the tablet triumphantly and I felt a hot flash cover me as the bodysuit bound to my skin. “Simon understood you just fine, and that's good enough for me.”