THE HAUNTING [Published as SM Eroticon by Olympia Press] *********************** by A N T H R O. (C) 1999 FROM THE ANTHRO BOOK - 'THE HAUNTING' P R O L O G U E : * * * * * * * * * * * * The room was a room of silence. Everywhere there was order, no inconsistencies, nothing out of place. All things were arranged. Outside the world was turning, oblivious to the strange events unfolding within the room. Sometimes figures passed by, outside the window. Ordinary insects, unseeing even where they gazed. Their shadows made little contorted shapes as they hurried home in the evening, summer sunshine. The man looked out at them, invisible. In the corner, where the blackness lay, there was a woman, hanging. Despite the solitude and silence between them, the room was crowded. '...travels in air, as fast as it can, it's the marvel of the age...' The television monochromatically blared while he worked studiously at the methodically ordered desk. Cold steel and unusual tools sparkled in the dying sunshine, just slipping down behind the building opposite. A long chrome tube with a jutting spike moved between the greying man's fingers, reflecting his brown eyes back to him. It made him look to the large metal cabinet in the corner, smiling, observing ironically. The distraction forces him to walk to the corner, the black corner. The hanging figure was wrapped in shiny blackness, totally enclosed in a vacuum sealed sculpture of her underlying flesh. A thin tube jutted out from the head, sucking and rasping as it drew air to respirate the suspended, rubber woman. They were watching, inciting each other. He stood before her, staring, occasionally watching the metal cabinet. His mouth closed over the tube protruding from the head, and he drew her breath into himself, deeply, to make it his own. The room shimmered with vitality, glowing blue as the voyeuristic tableau played out with as much pleasure for the player as the observer. The gasping figure shook and swung, hunting for breath. Immobilised and hanging in muted suspension, she could do nothing but...be. Philosophy meant nothing to the choking creature, it was for the objective ones...at a distance. The flesh packed rubber writhed and span in fit like movements of violence. The outside was controlled, inside control vanished in a spasmodic, biological over-ride. He knew that SHE would like the audible internal deluge which filled the silence of creaking rubber. It was enough. He smiled at the cabinet and returned to his desk, invigorated.
Later there was the beating. The sound of load bearing leather and chain, swinging the supported, creaking black rubber bag of flesh. The initial unexpected smacking sound of hard leather on rubber covered meat filled the room like choral applause. Hitting, beating, seeking new targets to make new pain. His feet danced amongst the cut and uncut rubber, steel and chrome, which collected exotic juices beneath her, as he tirelessly struck and slapped the oozing rubber body. There were always eyes watching. Outside, darkness, inside only dimness. Only the occasional person passed outside. In the house, in the room, he was partially inside the black bag woman, behind her. He brandished himself like a weapon, sometimes hanging on the suspended human in his frenzy. The shiny blackness writhed. Later it oozed more exuded fluids down, in long slippery, clinging streaks to join the confused, solid and fluid, floor of collected emissions. The beating returned, more brutal in praise of the grey, metal cabinet. Later still, the greying man faced the rubber bag, two chrome spikes in his hand. He was shaking, nervous. Placing one against her belly, he experimentally pushed in, through the rubber. The flesh danced and made noise, frantic from joy or anguish. Its head hit his face, the tube punching into his eye, blood falling. The human weights fell to the floor together, as if fighting. More screams and noise, more chrome stuck into the rubber, in front of the cabinet. The floor was awash with exotica. From the outside, the darkness of a late summer night, there was nothing to indicate anything unusual. Houses with little, twinkling lights yawning out like rows of random fireflies, sometimes the pale headlights of a vehicle would pass with a brief illumination...and then was gone again, forgotten. The warm summer breeze whistled through the avenue, whispering its secrets to the influenced, bending branches and fluttering leaves. Nothing was new, it was as it always was. Here was the normal, the grimly commonplace, the very source of a host of potential stories. Few were more than a few sentences. Inside the danse macabre flung itself into a dying stage, figures crawling and smeared, wallowing in themselves, oblivious to the outside. It was a sight worth seeing. Outside, the window revealed nothing guilty or unnatural proceeding, no hint of the murderously erotic dance which had been repeated again and again during the course of the evening. The twisting figures writhed on the floor, mute screams filling the room, removed from the continuing darkness beyond. There was nothing but black, shiny, red, chrome, slippy, shouts, steel and a variety of absorbed fluids filling the room. The air sparkled with the charge of discharge, electric and drawing parasites from afar in like a beacon. It moved into its last phase. Beyond the glass, late night travellers bustled past yet another glowing window, oblivious and uncaring about what went on, concerned more with looking to the sky, rather than around themselves, as if searching for this new Russian satellite which was looking down from somewhere, observing, studying, looking down...spying on them. But not all observers hang high in the sky, but then they are never usually detected, until you know what you're looking for. Another night grew dark to begin again.
THE HAUNTING by A N T H R O. ************************************* FRIDAY AFTERNOON. ******************* Thin fingers idly raked through a, fashionably short, crop of blonde hair. Gina lay on a grey leather sofa, a half filled cup of coffee sitting on the floor, browsing through the current edition of the local paper, dated September 29th. Pale Autumn sunlight yawned into the living room, diffused by the faint, trailing gathers of gauze curtains into an orangey haze. Suddenly an item caught her eye as though dragged there without choice. Amongst a small column of items for sale, most of which were banal and mundane in the extreme, she found something which intrigued her. 'Disposal of unwanted latex clothing' followed by the address, but no phone number. Her pale blue eyes stared at the advert for a few moments, flicked through the other items, then once again returned to the bizarre advert with a growing curiosity. Gina sat there vaguely, thinking. Fifteen minutes later she stood slipping a long leather coat on, flicking the collar up then checking her bag for keys, cash and chequebook. Once she realised she was making an impulse decision, she simply gave into it without analysis. She considered that it may well be a waste of time, but then again it may not, and at least her strongly aroused sense of curiosity would be satisfied. The door clicked behind the slim frame as she set off into a quiet, hazy, Friday afternoon. A short train ride and a long walk later she cursed herself for lending her sister the car for a long weekend sojourn with her empty headed boyfriend. Before long she stood apprehensively at the door of a non-descript, semi-detached house. It stood innocuously enough amongst another half dozen clones along a quiet avenue that could have been almost any town, except for the fact it was quaintly old fashioned, as if time had slowed down some decades back in the past. She pressed the bell with her long, varnish tipped finger. A tallish, middle-aged man answered the door, slim and conservatively dressed, unremarkable save for the unusual black patch over his left eye. "I'm calling about the advert in the eh...Gazette. Is this the right house?" inquired Gina in a politely refined tone. "Yes. Yes, it is indeed." he smiled "Please come in." For a moment a flash of panic kicked in as she considered whether or not this was some sort of ploy to attract...she stopped her train of thought dismissing it as ridiculous. She followed him into the living room. It was a room which would have befitted a man twenty years his senior. In a few minutes Gina sat drinking coffee with Mr. Marks. She felt almost depressed in such an oppressively, reserved room, but a glow of tingling anticipation still burned fiercely as she listened to him explain about the items for sale. His voice was a monotonous tone, which Gina slowly realised was quite hypnotic. She sat relaxed, coat opened to reveal her snug, faded blue Katherine Hamnett jeans and cyan, Jean Muir, turtle neck sweater. Mr. Marks told her how an acrimonious divorce had led to this sale. She nodded sympathetically, if unsurprised. He rose, knocking over a small, deep, attaché case which looked singularly out of place in this quiet room, returning with a large, dark suitcase. Marks placed it on the table. Gina gave an involuntary shudder as her skin rippled and erected, feeling a strong sense of inexplicable anticipation swirl through her belly. Marks fiddled with the catches on the case and explained that his wife had a casual and sporadic interest in rubberwear as the mood took her, the result of which was that many of the items were unused. It appeared to Gina that it was one more reminder of a wife he wasn't sad to lose, and then she wondered if the wife was perhaps the lucky one. She stood before the suitcase and the smell of rubber burst out as the lid was raised. Inside it was packed to the top with a host of items, mainly black rubber with some white and transparent, complimented by a tall set of rubber, spike heeled, court shoes. It was too much to take in at once. Her hands were trembling and she felt quite cold. She heard herself say, "I'll buy it...how much is it?" as if she had no choice in the matter. Marks tilted his head before he spoke. "It's a set price and although you are the fifth person to seek its purchase, it is to you that I wish to sell it. Don't ask why, I'm not prepared to explain. I will say that it should fit you much better than my wife." Gina smiled wanly. She had been neither overly friendly nor particularly keen on Mr. Marks and assumed that this was some sort of ridiculous sales pitch to reduce the impending horror of the bill. She glanced at a photo of a black haired girl on the wall, a pretty ectomorph like herself. The wife, daughter, relative...mistress? "How much do you require Mr. Marks?" Gina asked, trying not to let her unexpectedly bizarre eagerness show. He smiled. "£225. 11/6...I mean £225.57, exactly". Discreetly biting her lip, Gina paused. It was a fair sum of money for an afternoon whim, even for her, but it was quite apparent that they were much more valuable, from the obvious quality of the work. The notion appealed to her and, if nothing else, it might be fun. By the same token this whole scenario was very weird and the longer she was in his company the more mysterious he seemed to become. Her pale blue eyes stared into his. "Fine, "she smiled "a cheque?" "I'd prefer cash, if you don't mind." "Cash?" she enquired, "Yes, if you don't mind. I'm sure a woman of your position and means will have that available. Or am I wrong?" he asked pleasantly. "Well...actually I should just manage that. I just didn't expect that...oh well, never mind. Here you are...No please, keep the change, it's quite alright!" Mr. Marks ignored her. "That would never do, you must have your proper change Miss. You never know what's round the corner as they say!" A few minutes later Gina was about to leave, lugging the weighty suitcase in her right hand and wishing her car stood outside, when Marks grabbed her left arm quite firmly. "Wait!" he said in a hushed tone "there's something else." The young woman felt her heart racing in either fright or anticipation, but Marks simply lifted the incongruous attaché case with its shiny combination catches. He began to explain to her. "This was my wife's private case containing, I believe, related pieces for the clothing. It is locked and I have no key or combination code. I have no interest in whatever is inside and it would be most kind if you could take it away with you. In the end it may be filled with junk of no use to you...but then it may not. It's something of a lucky dip really isn't it?". He smiled strangely at Gina, not menacing just strange. "Surely you shouldn't be selling your wife's property, I mean it may be quite private or perhaps even relate to you." It was a thought that had only now occurred to Gina. "My wife took what she wanted when she left me, I won't be seeing her again. But it's up to you, either take it or I'll simply dump it." he smiled. A couple of minutes later Gina was walking along the quiet avenue, a case in each hand while Marks stood in his doorway watching the blonde woman struggling with her baggage. He watched her all the way along the leaf strewn road and was still watching as she turned the corner where she could finally call a passing taxi. Fortunately there was just about enough cash left to get her home as not many taxi drivers smiled and said 'That'll do nicely' when you use your American express card to pay for the trip. Gina instantly felt herself relax as the black hack speeded her back home. What a strange afternoon it had turned out to be, and what a strange man. Still, she thought to herself, at least he didn't offer to help her try the clothes on.
FRIDAY EVENING. ***************** It was dusk by the time Gina arrived at her home, dry leaves dancing on the tiny courtyard of her gatehouse residence. As the taxi sped away it crossed her mind how odd it was that she had just enough ready money left to pay for the journey, not even enough for a tip. An hour later she relaxed in a warm bath, sipping a tall glass of vodka and fresh orange, blissfully excited at the prospect of spending the rest of the evening examining the, as yet, unopened cases. By 6.30 Gina stood barefoot on a colour speckled, deep pile carpet, drink in hand, dressed in a short, black silk kimono. Before her, on a long, glass topped table, sat the dark, heavy suitcase. Gina stared at it. Having spent a futile half hour trying to open the attaché case she had now given up on that for the moment, surmising that it was probably filled with old copies of the Sunday Times or something. Her attentions now turned to the main purchase. The dimly lit room was warm while a rhythmic rattle of rain pinged against the window. Gina swallowed and sat her glass down, a pleasant, warm glow with a hint of light headedness washed over her. For the first time in years her excitement and anticipation was comparable to a child opening a special gift at Christmas. It was a very unusual feeling for Gina to experience. Flame red nails flicked the catches on the old, dark case as the spacious piano strains of Blade's 'Empty Rooms' exuded atmospherically from the C. D. player. She opened the case. The unexpected waft of latex hit her like a physical blow. Gina bent over the case, gripping the edge of the table, her blonde fringe falling over half closed eyes. Like an expensive perfume, Gina drank in its dark odour, fingers stroking the garments where each movement released the shifting odour. The shiny, fresh look of the clothes suggested that they had just come from the manufacturer. If any of these had been worn she was unable to spot the difference between them and the unused items. It was all in remarkably pristine condition. Taking a deep breath Gina realised that her system felt flushed and full, her bosom suddenly heavy, breasts engorged, tips stiff, and a growing expanse of dampness was seeping out from within her golden fleece. Tossing back her shoulders Gina shrugged the silk to the floor, grabbed a cool, soft handful of rubber and removed a short vest, sheath dress. Her left hand widened the shimmering, thin rubber and she strode into it in a smooth motion. Moments later she felt the slow, cool drag of the latex kissing flesh, its grip pulling past her thighs to push and squeeze her bottom, condensing her rounded hips. Gina hauled again until she could risk slipping her arms through and to pull the front of the dress up, and over her naked, upper belly and obstructive bosom. Its smell and cool tightness crushed her skin with a velvet grip as she smoothed the blackness below, and over, her jutting breasts. With one last tug she stood in a tight black sheath that went from mid thigh to a chest revealing, scooped neck. Standing before the mirrored wall of her living room Gina's fingers stroked softly across her rubber skinned body like a stranger, almost intoxicated with the flattering tightness of the shiny, second skin, revealing her nakedness beneath. She looked stunning, her slim but curvaceous figure bared in a thick, latex smoothness, her pronounced nipples sticking out in a tight, unnatural aggressiveness, her soft, rounded belly gripped firmly to show the deep hollow of her navel. Heels. She needed heels. Sensible shoes were for mundane moments, she decided, no matter how good they were for your feet. There was no escaping the awareness one felt in wearing heels, their need for constant attention to balance and poise, the higher the heel the more attention they demanded. In tiny steps Gina crossed the room, her thighs restrained by the tight, rubber sheathing stretched across her legs. Quickly she dug into the case and removed the spiked heels she had noted earlier that day, slipping into the hard rubberised footwear and noting with perverse delight the 5" silver heels. They fitted perfectly, what a lovely coincidence, Gina mused. The blonde girl strutted in front of the mirror like a peacock, blonde hair slicked harshly back with only the fringe free. She tugged up the hem of the warming dress until a slash of cropped blonde peeked out from a black pelmet. Watching herself she was unaware of masturbating until a ripple of response ran through her whole flesh. The red nails of thumb and forefinger gripped her little bud in a grinding stranglehold while she rubbed her coated frame randomly with the other. Shifting her limbs, twisting and pushing, Gina felt her sensations centring between her legs. Her muscles tensed as the music became more strident, building to a crescendo. A soft scream died in her throat as she climaxed with the music, head resting against the coolness of the mirror. It was a new sensation, an orgasm from much deeper within herself than ever before. Shortly she stood staring at the host of items she had draped across the furniture, eyes drinking it in hungrily. Gina's heart was pumping hard, body and mind stimulated, her mouth fresh with the bitter orange taste. The smell of rubber hung in the still air like a veil. Feeling a little light headed she took stock of her purchase. Gina gazed. There were two dresses, one a sleeveless, vest dress, which she had just tried on, the other being front zipping, high collared and sleeved, a heavy mini skirt, a thick catsuit with a black, bondage body harness, two different hoods and a gasmask, all in black. On the sofa lay a pure white, rubber bra and high cut pants with penetrable sheaths, white stockings and a waist nipping corset, black knickers and penetrating tights, transparent stockings with matching ruched rubber suspenders, gloves, gauntlets and a few packs of surgical gloves. Only one other item remained, the one Gina was presently wearing. She stood looking into the mirror, seeing her nudity revealed to herself through a transparent body stocking which covered every inch of her save for her head. The thought that she could wear this without detection beneath her everyday clothes excited her, as did the observation that the garment fitted and clung so well that it could literally have been made for her. The warmth began to bloom within her as she felt the rubber sucking tighter the hotter it became. She watched the condensation cloud the transparency of the suit, stroked the thin rubber skin and gave a couple of sharp tweaks to stimulate her nipples to an even more pronounced jut of attention. The twin protrusions tickled her lower orifices as she slipped her thick gold topped vibrator into the rubber encased sex, its powerful, quaking sensations travelling in shock waves against her stretched genitalia as it slid in, over, along and out. Gina switched off before an almost involuntary climax, her skin dripping between the valley of her breasts, buttocks and down her spine. She flopped wearily onto the sofa and dragged a thin hood over her head, its tiny nose grill being the only opening in its composition. Her rubber coated fingers made it quite a difficult manoeuvre. Gasping for a deep lungful of air, Gina writhed about on the length of the sofa, its soft leather kissing her rubberised skin as her fingers probed and stimulated herself uninhibitedly from the confines of a sightless void of heavy breathing and almost guttural grunting. If my colleagues at the magazine could see me now, she thought. She was no longer herself, she was abandoned to something alien in her life up till this very day. The lack of control and arousal she felt would have bothered her in any other circumstances, for the moment she didn't care, the sensations seduced and suppressed any alarm she presently harboured within herself. Her skin was hot and sticky, her limbs twisting and pushing, hands groping while her womb snatched kisses from a vibrating, rubber coated, invader probing to torment the evasive G-spot. Frenzied, she fought to capture her, hungered for, climax. But it seemed inexplicably elusive. Breath came in noisy gasps as if someone were panting directly into her ears. Gina's tongue licked at the rubber coating that bellied into her mouth with every involuntary gulp of her lungs. With fingers driving her senses, sex oozing and spreading beneath the transparent skin, Gina felt herself so close to her goal that she let out a muffled, guttural grunt in advance of her spasm. Suddenly she felt coldness against her back, but was unable to move, see or even speak. Cold air was touching her skin...and then there was a voice. "Oh God, is that all you've had on beneath your coat? Let me feel" intoned an aroused male voice. Gina felt hands on her breasts, a wall behind her and a stiff, writhing body pressing against her, but she was devoid of any control, like a passenger looking out from someone else's body. Blurry sight developed as an arm grasped the head of the body, close to her, and brutally dragged it against her sex. Gina could see what seemed to be her own physique, albeit working independently of her own volition. Rubber bra and sheathed knickers, see through rubber stockings and suspenders, her long red, dress coat thrown open to the elements of what seemed to be a dank, back alley. Between her thighs a male head, munched, bit and licked against the warm latex, its plunging tongue pushing in as far as it could to the sheathed Godhead within. Gina felt it all, revelled in it almost, but could control nothing. "I love the feel of your thighs against my face, the rubber and then the flesh, the smell, the taste. Christ, I want you : let me fuck you. Please! You must. I'll do anything, please!" the shadowed face pleaded from her hips. Gina's hands stroked her own flesh, slowly, erotically, as if playing to an unseen audience, squeezing the contents of her bra, pulling her nipples further out through the tiny metal rimmed, peep-hole eyelets. The passenger's alarm and disquiet fought with the undeniable pleasurable waves which she felt coursing through her frame. With breath coming in short gasps, hips writhing like an actress in a porno film, Gina's body was building towards something. Without warning she grabbed him by the hair and forced him back until he almost fell over backwards from his kneeling position. "Finish what you started, and be quick about it. You're making me become impatient!" Gina heard herself say. But this was not her, it was impossible and yet it was too real to be a dream. The man complied instantly and Gina felt a nerve burning wave of contractions crush her uterus as her hips bucked and ground against his, industriously probing, face. Gina watched her body throw him back, discarded, and then command him to remove his erection. "Get it out, I want to see it oozing while you jerk yourself off." He quickly conformed, his face still hidden while she rubbed herself off where her rubber pants hung saliva ridden, rubbed where inside the weeping moisture covered her pubis and her clitoris pushed out from the flattened, fleshy hood against its clinging covering, teasing him visually with her lewd motions, grinding movements and lustful abandonment. "Please, you have to let me fuck you before I come." his voice begged as he rapidly handled his oozing stem of flesh, long and thin even in the dimness of the cold night. "Why, you little shit? Why should I?" Gina laughed gripping her own flesh painfully hard. The kneeling figure started muttering and pleading, all the time transfixed by the tall beauty of her sexual abandonment. "Oh do shut up, in God's name. If I let you, you appreciate the debt you will have to pay, the price of pleasure?" His face stared up, but no matter where or how it moved it was always in shadow, Gina thought to herself, but her body seemed much more interested in exercising control over the pliant flesh before her. His voice indicated capitulation. "Yes...I, I'll do it, but you have to let me have you. I'll do anything for that, but I must have you". Gina laughed at him. "You can have exactly thirty seconds, starting right now. Get up! Twenty nine-Twenty eight-Twenty..." The powerful, muscled frame was against her in a couple of movements, his wet penis quickly slipping, unceremoniously, into her protected organ. Grunting and fucking, mouthing obscenities and praises, while Gina scorned his efforts. The powerless Gina submitted to the deeply satisfying sensation of his long, hard flesh pushing deeply into her, feeling the parting of her intimate walls. "Fifteen-Fourteen-Thirteen ; You'd better shoot before I reach zero, or you'll have to pay the very unpleasant price. Won't you, Eunuch? Eleven-Ten-..." But even as her voice spoke aloud the man's cried against her ears just as she felt his organ swell appreciably and pump much more violently into her as the internal pocket filled with hot, vibrant sperm, spasm after spasm, its heat spreading quickly through her vagina. "Two-One-Zero" Gina said coldly as if oblivious to the vicarious delight she had just experienced. Throwing him back from her presence, she felt her belly emptying immediately while her, quickly closed, thighs instantly felt the hot, oozing streaks of his emission slip out in long drips from the rubber cavern, down over the bare flesh of her sweat ridden thighs. Gina stood against the wall, laughing as her fingers pushed against her clitoris and allowed a second climax to occur, succumbing to the violent and deep convulsion rip through her body, becoming wilder in stature and giving no indication of stopping. Then it went black and deathly quiet. Her breathing was laboured but she eventually felt for the hood and dragged it halfway up her head, allowing a cool breath of oxygen to tease her lungs and face as she struggled to activate her quaking body. Gina felt as though she's just run a 20 mile marathon, while her sex still fluttered in tiny ripples of contractions as she pulled the mask from her skull. There was no-one else there. Nothing had changed in the room, it certainly wasn't a back alley, until she noticed the evidence of the clock : it indicated one minute past midnight. Gina struggled up to her elbows, still semi reclined and body afloat with sweat filling every hollow, pushing the warm, motionless vibrator from her vagina and discovering, in horror, the unmistakable pool of sperm staining the sofa and still oozing from her rubber slash. She fell back in terror, heart pounding and senses reeling, closing her eyes tight and praying to awaken from this inexplicable nightmare.
SATURDAY MORNING. ******************* The next thing Gina recalled was the half hearted touch of pale morning sunshine, still on her back on the sofa. Her fingers were already stroking the oxygen starved, still sopping, clitoris, rubbing at the puffy little pink tongue which stuck out from the compressed flesh of her blonde maned pubis. A gasp broke from her lips as her muscles tensed, eyes locking shut, and her body submitted to the finality of her adroit, stimulatory interference. Another long, muted groan echoed the first as her back arched and her legs shook in tiny quivers until Gina drained herself of pleasure to slowly regain her natural composure. Like a flash of lightning, it all came back. Gina leapt back and examined the couch, seeking the stained evidence of last night's bizarre experience. There was nothing but a large, warm patch where's she's been sleeping, but the sofa was devoid of any staining. She could find nothing to indicate any proof or basis of reality to the stranger of last night's events. Try as she might she couldn't shake off an odd sense of...she didn't know what. On the one hand she's experienced a sexual excitement of a stature and quality quite new to her. No-one had ever given her climaxes of such graphic intensity. She felt the cool pools of sweat trickle down the jump-suit and realised she's had it on for almost twelve hours. Perhaps her body had been starved of oxygen for so long that it had made her dream vividly, just as one might experience from sunstroke. Daylight made the thought feasible, almost. Gina slowly and carefully stripped in the white and ice blue, tiled bathroom, the smell of her own sweat, lubrications and come perversely excited her. She showered and soaped her sticky skin while she mused again about the experiences resulting from her strange purchase. A rational, oxygen deprived dream, the most rewarding fantasy she's ever experienced, some kind of hallucinogenic had entered her system, she'd gone insane or perhaps there really was something odd going on. Like a zombie she went about getting dried, setting her hair, having a bite to eat, just drifting through the every day routines distractedly. There was no easy answer. The voice of her sister seemed to spring into her mind, laughingly offering her most profound thought and, way of life, philosophy - 'When in doubt, shop it out.' Gina smiled to herself and went to get dressed. Half an hour later she sat before her dressing table looking into her own reflection. Her fully made up eyes looked stunning in an almost airbrushed blend of magenta and lilac, her eyes adopting an icy blue tone to their paleness. Jutting cheekbones slashed with a subtle blusher and her smiling mouth grinning back to her in a pink gloss stretch. She brushed her hair and inserted a pair of abstract formed, chrome ear-rings. Gina felt as gorgeous as she looked, elated and in high spirits arising from an unmistakable, and unexpected, joie de vivre. Standing up she felt a familiar constriction to her frame. The evidence of the full length mirror shocked her. It was bizarre, quite unconsciously she seemed to have adopted the very guise of her dream. See through hose and suspenders, matching bra and knickers and having added the thick mini skirt, thigh boots and a lace bustier which revealed the rubber and protruding nipples beneath. The fear disappeared rapidly as she noted how stunningly attractive she looked, more beautiful then ever before. Eventually she turned away, slipped on a large grey, Armani coat, picked up her Gucci clutch bag and left her house quite determined to shop until she'd drop. The day slipped past rapidly as she made her way through a variety of shops, drawing looks where she went through the busy city streets. Even the chill of a cool Autumn Saturday afternoon couldn't seem to permeate Gina's self confidence and sense of well being. There was a pleasure at the feel of the clothes, the drifting through shops and especially the mild shock she elicited in men and women.
SATURDAY EVENING. ******************* By early evening Gina was sitting in a trendy, pseudo art deco, brasserie, sipping an over priced Perrier, a tussle of carrier bags by her side. She sipped her drink slowly, occasionally clenching her butt muscles to feel its slithery grip on the rubber inside her. Her body was slippy with sweat beneath the rubber as she sat back and gazed about her. Although the lounge was relatively empty she had already attracted the attention of most of the men and women drinking there. Grabbing her clutch bag she strode to the ladies room and smiled as she saw the multiple reflections of herself in the highly mirrored room. She refused to submit to any call of nature which might imbalance or disrupt the ongoing comfort of her body hugging rubberwear, the delight of its oppressiveness. She simply touched up her make-up. As she returned to her table Gina found the brasserie had, almost suddenly, become quite busy and a moment of alarm crossed her mind as she realised she had left her coat and shopping unattended. At her table two men sat chatting, one in his thirties and the other somewhat younger. They were both elegantly dressed and well spoken, rising as she returned to her place. "We took the liberty of watching your bags while you were gone." the older one said, smiling a well rehearsed grin. "Would you like a drink?" the other inquired. Gina mentally rolled her eyes, they were just the types she had been hoping to avoid here, the types she hoped her aloof attitude would have inhibited and defended against. Lizards. A smile appeared around her newly painted lips and she pressed her tongue against the back of her teeth and nodded her head in affirmation. Having refreshed their respective drinks they chatted idly about utter trivialities and insignificances. Gina found it to be very predictable and unsatisfying, the room had become quite busy now. She found herself unable to resist interrupting another of their anecdotes involving some self congratulatory cunning and political correctness. "Gentlemen," she began "I'm afraid I have to leave shortly". The disappointment showed in their eyes and a strange compulsion gripped her. She reduced her voice to a low husky tone. "I'm going to give you a once in a lifetime opportunity" she said leaning forward onto the table, revealing her ample cleavage and stroking her protruding swollen nipples. "...that is if you are capable of acting upon the moment. Do you think you are...men of action, or simply words?" The two men gazed at each other, wondering if the other could say for certain what she seemed to be suggesting. They shifted rather uncomfortably with eager and hopeful grins flourishing on their faces. The beautiful blonde girl nodded, confirming their unspoken thoughts. "Yes," she sighed "that's right. The catch, of course, is that we have to 'socialise' in this very Brasserie, and in the very attractive ladies room". The younger man in the dark suit asked "Do you mean both of us? Together? I mean...the three of us, that is?" The other man seemed to think that they were having a rather elaborate practical joke played upon them. Gina rose from the table, clothes shiny in the dimness of the room. She sighed. "Look on it as a rather short round of golf gentlemen, one hole each. I'll wait two minutes for you, after which the offer expires. You two can deal with any need for privacy which we might require." She flicked her blonde head away from them, arose clutching her coat and assorted baggage to make her way to the ladies room before any more could be said. An assortment of unseated bodies opened before her like a parting of the Red Sea as she cut a swathe through everyone else. All heads turned to her, but she was oblivious, already high on the erotic buzz which now possessed her. Inside she unloaded her encumbrances and watched herself in the mirrors. She counted aloud and guessed they would take up to one minute. They were even more eager than she had any right to expect, they were there in less than thirty seconds, the younger one immediately leaning hard against the door to ensure that no unwanted guests would intervene to distract their entertainment. Gina preened herself in the tinted mirror, still watching them and enjoying the feeling of the dark, 1920's styled room as well as what was about to follow. "Is it empty?" the older one asked. "Who knows?" Gina snapped back tugging the front and back zips of her skirt to allow her legs to move freely, revealing her moist thighs and body forming knickers. She rubbed at her crotch, feeling the smudges of K. Y. with which she had freshly lubricated the internal accessing sheaths. Moving forward Gina quickly unzipped the younger man and started pulling on his eagerly stiff erection before turning her back to him as she manipulated the tip of his penis into her rear passage, faking a deep groan of satisfaction as he pushed experimentally. The other man approached and was quickly disrobed to allow him a marginal penetration into her soft front entrance. Gina half turned her head and spoke to them both. "Well gentlemen, impress me". They needed no encouragement, organs filling her quickly in disharmony, occasionally almost kissing each but for the thin wall that separated her entry and exit system. Hands rubbed and probed her, lips on her flesh as she moaned and groaned outrageously. Gina pushed and pulled, hammering and then gently writhing against their torsos, her sighs and grunts never betraying the moments when she was drawing her own, real, pleasure. The stiff organs stretched her flesh, stimulating her internal organs as they pushed deeper to open her wider. She seemed to cope with no difficulty. With fascination she watched herself in the mirrors, legs askew, grunting and screaming encouragement to her slaves services, their bodies pushing, touching and probing her as they took their pleasure. She recognised her face, but it looked somehow different, repainted in the image of some glossy vamp from a Vogue or Helmut Newton photo. Gina's eyes now looked dark, carefully shaped and highlighted, her eyebrows subtly arched and pencilled to make them look even bigger, perversely innocent, and lips which were now fuller and redder than before. There was no shock, only a bizarre gratification as if she were watching someone else, watching herself being sodomised and fucked by two strangers, feeling a new-found illicit pleasure. Gina let herself go, throwing herself into a spasmodic climax, stretched by the younger man's speeding thrusts, her sphincter gripping his phallus and encouraging his organ to erupt. A gasping grunt of achievement ripped from the young man's throat. "More," she told him "keep going. More!" Gina grasped the other man's buttocks and jammed him deeply into her rubberised vagina, watching the scene over his shoulder and gripping his swelling penis with the tight, clutching muscles of her sex. Betraying nothing, Gina laughed to herself as she watched a shocked woman emerge from a far cubicle, clutching her coat around her as she was confronted with the bizarre, ongoing menage a trois. Helplessly, Gina laughed aloud as the older man squeaked an 'oh oh oh ohohooooooohhhhhh!' of orgasm, almost oblivious to the hot cascade emptying inside her. The younger man had stopped as soon as he saw the other woman. With incredible speed Gina disentangled herself from them, leaving the pair to hide their embarrassment before the surprise audience. The intruding woman shrank back against the far mirrored wall as the older man moved forward, penis waving from his opened flies, to try and explain the situation. Gina was already rezipped and clutching her coat and bags again, feeling the men's hot come slithering out of the rubber openings, falling to the tiled floor and clinging to the insides of her thighs. She was already out the door when the woman's scream of misinterpretation rang out. The clientele turned en masse to see who had elicited the erotic groans they had been listening to for the past few minutes. Gina walked out slowly. She paused at the entrance, by its door, and couldn't resist looking back at the mute shock of the populated lounge. Smiling, she gazed at the faces, the whispering smiles, the envy, disgust, admiration and the desire. It was almost better than coming, she decided. The younger man re-appeared as the intruding woman followed, shouting. The clientele turned to the new selection of entertainment as Gina slipped on her coat, smiled at the bistro manager and left. As she walked along the cold, neon lit street Gina wondered how long it would be before they could extricate themselves from the situation in the bistro, assuming they didn't get arrested first. It was in the taxi going home that Gina began to wonder about how oddly she had just behaved, as strangely as she had acted in her dream. Was this just another dream? She thought it might have been, in the ladies room, but now? She stared down between her thighs, the residue of sperm was still oozing out as she squeezed her muscles tightly, its odour was almost detectable to her. With a conscious effort, she tried to concentrate on the journey home, watching the city fade in intensity and density as she travelled out of the centre. It almost worked. By the time she entered her front door, she realised that she was feeling quite aroused again, horny almost. There appeared to be no reason, it was just a progressively increasing pitch of erotic stimulus from within. She fantasised about dominating a room full of men, whipping and hurting. Gina hit the light switch and stared at herself in the mirror again, keen to see the beautifully crafted face that she felt either someone else had created or was her own, unknown handiwork. The horror hit her like a blow, withering her stability with the ugly, sudden, sensory isolation that accompanies shock. Her blonde Eton crop was no longer blonde or cropped but shoulder length black! It was the last thing she remembered as she fainted.
SUNDAY MORNING. ***************** Sunday morning began with finding herself in her own soft, wide bed. The panic began instantly and she ran to the mirror to check if the horror had returned. The vanity mirror confirmed a clean faced blonde staring back at her again. This was getting ridiculous, she toyed with the idea of calling her sister and asking for her help, there was no-one else she could trust enough. Gina cradled her head in her hands, uncertain and confused. What if she was going mad? Tears welled into her eyes. But she felt it was too real to be madness, and yet how would she know, she'd never been mad? Her logic demanded she exhaust the possible before considering the unlikely and impossible. She felt the plan jump into her mind. Gina dressed quickly, hardly noticing what she was choosing, but avoiding any of the purchases from Friday. She cursed her lack of mobility as she made her way to the train station, tied to their stupid Sunday service. It was an interminable wait to get to Mr. Marks' house, but she was still there before lunchtime. He had to have some answers for her, especially as she was sure the dark haired visage in the mirror was the same one she had seen in the photograph on his living room wall.
SUNDAY AFTERNOON. ******************* She walked quickly and determined along the leaf ridden avenue, ignoring the gentle, Autumn sunshine which highlighted her way with the shadowy silhouettes of the trees pointing to her destination. Her heart raced as she approached the house, at last. And yet now there was something very different about the house, something subtle...a sort of decay, almost. As she knocked the door and pressed the bell she noticed that there were no curtains up, none, on any of the rooms. There was no reply. She rapped again in a loud and insistent manner. Nothing. She quickly moved to peer in the front window, oblivious to social niceties as she felt a wave of anxiety and panic only being barely suppressed. Her breath escaped in a loud gasp, the room was bare, devoid of anything, absolutely empty without even a scrap of newspaper. Gina made her way swiftly to the back of the house and peered in the glass pane of the back door. It was empty and clean just like the living room. Desolate, she flopped down on the cold back steps, half sobbing in frustration. She drew a deep breath of cool afternoon air and reconsidered. At least now she was sure that there was something amiss and it had to do with the mysterious Mr. Marks, after all, who vacates a house in such an utterly meticulous manner within 48 hours? There had been no hint of a move in the offing on Friday afternoon, nothing to indicate his moving on. Now she felt positive that she was the deliberate focus of these bizarre events it was a bit easier to handle, even if the reasoning was not. But the problem of distinguishing what was real and what, if anything, wasn't would be a bit harder. Gina pulled a pack of cigarettes from her bag and lit one, pulling a long draw of smoke into her lungs, she hadn't smoked since her teenage years and she didn't really care why they were in her bag. Looking about the immaculately tidy garden she noted the dying colours of the Autumn plant life, and then something caught her eye. She stood up and strode purposefully to the rear of the walled enclosure. Someone had been here recently, she thought. At the rear, beneath a large, bare tree was a patch of earth amongst the lawn, as if freshly worked. On approaching it she could see there was a plot of about 6 feet by 2, almost like a grave. The instant sense of fear urged her to immediately turn away but she bravely resisted. It looked like fresh earth. She then walked away quickly. Gina hammered at the faded green door of the next house, repeating it almost without allowing anyone the time to answer. A small old, white haired woman opened the door angrily. "What's all this? What do you want?" she asked. Gina drew a breath. "I'm sorry, but I need some help. I need to get in touch with Mr. Marks, from the next house. Do you know where he's moved to or any relatives I can get in touch with?" "Next door? Mr. Marks? Are you sure you've got the right address?" the white haired woman inquired. "Yes I'm sure. I was talking with him on Friday afternoon and now it's empty. I must find him!" The woman took a step back and pushed the door closed a shade. "I think you're mistaken young lady, that house has been empty for years" she said. Gina gasped aloud. "You must be mistaken, I was in that house on Friday!" "Young woman, I don't know what sort of game you think you're playing but no-one has stayed in that house for at least five years and even then they only stayed for a couple of weeks and then went off without a 'by-your-leave'. Now if you'll excuse me..." "But, in the back garden there's a...a sort of fresh patch of ground, as if someone had been digging it up recently. Who would do that if no-one has lived there for years?" Gina demanded a little impatiently. "That's been that way for as long as we've been here. Nothing grows there because it's probably bad earth, poisoned or something. I don't think I can help you my dear, perhaps you should just go home." Gina pushed at the door. "Wait, please, just a minute. You've never heard of Mr. Marks? A tall thin man, going grey and he has a black, eye patch? It's very important, please think." "An eyepatch? No I don't know...unless you mean, no I don't think so." "What were you going to say, something about a man with an eyepatch?" "There used to be a chap with a patch, but that was years back, well before your time. I can't even remember their names but there was a chap a bit like that lived here with his wife when we first moved here back in the early 1960's. I'm sorry dear, but that house has been empty for a long, long time. That's all I know, now I really must go, goodbye!" the old woman stated with finality, slamming the door shut on the astonished Gina. It took almost a full minute before she turned from the door and walked along the antiquated, suburban avenue as she began her return journey home. It was absolutely incredible. THE HAUNTING [PREVIEW] (C) 1996 ANTHRO * * * * * * * * * I M P O R T A N TN O T E .* * * * * * * * * ** ANTHRO SHOULD LIKE TO DRAW YOUR ATTENTION TO THE FOLLOWING INFORMATION :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: THIS WORK IS INTENDED AS ENTERTAINMENT FOR BROAD MINDED ADULTS ONLY. IN NO WAY DO WE CONDONE OR SUPPORT ANY ACTIVITIES WHICH INVOLVES COERCION, A LACK OF CONSENT OR RAPE. NO REPRESENTATION IS MEANT TO DEPICT ANY FORM OF UNDER-AGE PARTICIPANTS OR COERCIVE ACTIVITIES. PLEASE REMEMBER THAT IN ANTHROWORLD AIDS, H I V & V. D. DON'T EXIST, BUT THEY DAMN WELL DO ON PLANET EARTH, SO BE SAFE, USE A CONDOM AND PRACTISE SAFE SEX. PEACE, ANTHRO. |
