Eine Geschichte von Columbine zu Bild Nr. 31244a und 31244c

© 2001 by Columbine

(Bitte klicken Sie hier für die deutsche Uebersetzung)

Feeling a little like she was in a Bluebeard story, she inched the door to the dark room open little by little. She jumped when it creaked, and then smiled nervously at herself. Nothing was going to jump out at her, after all. And there was no one else in the house to hear her.

Besides, it served Janet right for being so freakin' mysterious, she thought. Leaves town with no warning at all, oh, and can I water her plants and bring in her mail on exactly zero notice, and by the way, don't go into the back bedroom. What the hell was she supposed to think about all that?

She clicked on the light, again jumping a little and then being embarrassed at her body's betrayal. And, as expected, nothing waited to leap out at her. In fact, there was nothing in the room at all except a strange-looking oval object in the corner.

It looked like it was some sort of machine, except that it didn't seem to have been built exactly. No fastenings, no seams - in fact she couldn't see a seam where it rested on the floor - it looked as if it had sprouted and grown there.

Her face was only inches from it as she walked around it, intent on figuring it out ... and then she realized what she had been doing and practically jumped away from it. What was this thing? What did it do? How had Janet gotten it? where had she gotten it?

"You sit on it," she gasped, suddenly making sense of the shapes. Those things in front were to hold your feet, and the curved piece supported your back ... and that meant the thing sticking out of the top .... she felt herself flush. "Janet!" she said aloud. She'd had no idea that her friend was anywhere near being that kind of person.

But ... well ... she had to admit it looked like it could be ....

No, no, no, no. Bad enough to be in the room. She was not going to try out Janet's kinky toy.

But she lay awake that night thinking about it, wondering what it would be like perched atop it with that ... well, that thing inside her .... Did it move? Did the whole thing shake when you were on it? She tossed and turned.

The next evening, after the plants had been watered, she snuck into the room again and slipped off her dress, stepped out of her sandals and unhooked her bra. She hesitated a little, then pulled off her panties and approached the machine slowly.

This wasn't right. Something was supposed to be .... She had no idea where it had come from, how she knew, but she knew. She needed something else.

The next night, after a visit to a shop she had never in her life imagined herself entering (and best not to dwell on that, she was blushing to think of it), she approached the device wearing only her new accessories - a pair of latex stockings and matching latex gloves. Glossy and black, and though she hadn't before, dressed like this she now definitely felt like she was doing something rude. Something obscene.

But, god, it felt so good as she eased her ass down onto the thing! Slowly she wriggled into place, her feet in the cups that felt like tight pumps, leaning against the backpiece for support as she gasped a little from the invader in her cunt.

Then the backpiece curled up like a living thing, curled around her to support her under her ribcage and lift her breasts slightly. The extra support, combined with the slow throbbing pulse the egg was beginning to make, felt so nice that she barely even startled at this new surprise.

She felt something coil around her ankles, but it didn't concern her. By then the egg was seriously thrumming .... She was dripping wet all around where she was being penetrated so well, and the surface on which she sat had become a slick, slippery mess. But it was warm, and it pulsed ... almost like it was alive.

She threw her head back and closed her eyes as the throbbing increased.

It was as if this thing were growing inside her, not just expanding and contracting but bringing her entire body into synch with it, so that she was expanding and contracting as well, all over, being squeezed in rhythm with the egg ....

Then she came partially back to the awareness that she was being squeezed, that something was definitely working here besides her imagination. She reached up and felt something slick around her head, covering her ears (she'd thought that her blood pounding had caused that strange change in the noises) and pushing her hair up into a tuft as it crept up ... crept up her back (she reached down) - from the back support which now had basically become a corset (so that's what's squeezing so hard, she thought). She managed to look down - god, it was so hard to think with all this going on! - and with blurry eyes she couldn't even tell where the egg stopped and she began. Her crotch was seamless, joined to that wonderful, pulsing, penetrating thing ....

No, no, she had to pull loose! This was not good! She tried to lift her feet, kick instinctively. They were held firmly in place; all she could do was move her knees together briefly, which just squeezed her cunt and made her squeak involuntarily.

She felt like a tube of toothpaste; the lower half of her body being squeezed and compressed so much that she was almost scared to open her mouth for fear that something would come out under pressure. And then she felt her nipples doing just that ....

Despite the now-a-neck-brace, she managed to look down just enough to see a black shiny liquid seep out of her breasts, hardening quickly as it leaked out, very tiny fountains of black, beginning to form into long extensions of her body.

She frightening thing was that she couldn't bring herself to be scared. She knew she was supposed to be scared, supposed to be screaming for help right now ... but for all the squeezing and rearranging, it felt good, so good ... better than anything she'd ever felt. Instead of screaming, she found herself eager to see what would happen next. The black ooze was spreading and solidifying all over her now. What she noticed first was her head, as the creep of her "mask" eventually covered her eyes and her mouth. Or was it coming out of her mouth? She could have been spitting the stuff; she wouldn't have been able to tell. She was sure it was running through her veins by now. That's what it felt like; her body was pounding with it.

She couldn't move her head by the time her eyes were covered anyway; her neck had been completely rigid for several minutes by then. Or seconds. Or hours. Time had stopped behaving for her; she was moving to the rhythm of the egg and the pleasure and nothing else made sense.

The liquid blended and merged with the latex on her arms and legs, oozing over them and using it as a foundation; her gloves became mittens and then tendrils, coiling uncontrollably around her legs. She wasn't sure she had toes anymore.

She was going to explode. This felt too good. She felt it, like a pressure, waiting for something ... she wanted to come so badly ....

Her waist was impossible. Where had she gone? What was left of her? Maybe it was all in her breasts now, huge, impossible ovals, held by her new ribcage-corset with their beautiful impossible long nipple-things pointing proudly skyward. Like her head ... like her new elongated latexed proboscis of a tongue.

I am not me anymore, she realized suddenly. And as if that was the trigger, she climaxed. Distantly, vaguely, through her orgasm haze, she heard the sound of liquid spilling, pouring out of her ... far too much of it ... something draining from her, draining permanently away.

And she realized this pleased her.

 A very long time later, she came back to herself ... whatever "herself" was now ... and she knew she would have to go. To spread. To change things.

She wondered where Janet had gone, whether they would meet now and whether they would know each other when they did.
And she wondered who she could find on short notice to water her plants...