callmeismael
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Dec 20, 2011
- Posts
- 220
...and it was very odd, but I can't get it out of my head. I'm going to relate it as closely as I can remember, just because I want to tell it to someone, but I don't feel like actually writing it up into a proper story.
This woman and I were hiking in a rich, cool forest, the sort you associate with the Pacific Northwest or the coastal BC. My companion was a pale-skinned redhead, possibly someone I know from real life, a friend-of-a-friend, but I'm not totally sure on that. Inconsequential detail.
We were talking about how empty and quiet the forest was, and yet there was the sensation of being watched. We talked about the shadows, and how the sunlight was lost in the canopy of leaves far above us. Something was unsettling in the calm. My skin bristled a little, but we continued deeper into the forest.
Then my companion stifled a little cry, grabbed me by the arm, and pointed away across the forest, to a particularly shadowed area. I saw nothing, but she was insistent: a person in the shadows. Eventually I saw it, a shadow that had a roughly human shape. I scoffed. Just a shadow on a severed tree. Even in this light, if it was human you'd be able to make out some features. Yet as we took a few steps further along the path, I kept my eye on it. No, it wasn't a tree. It wasn't simply a shadow. There was something there, like a statue. It did look more human from this angle, but still lacked any detail, either in colour or form. At my companion's urging, I approached it through the brush. It was maybe 50 meters off the path, and as I got closer the illusion of humanity remained, but got no clearer, except to say that I could identify the form as being vaguely female, slender and elegant. It was posed with weight slightly favouring one leg, face toward me. It had only vague features, like a statue that had been weathered smooth by the elements, glossy smooth and damp with the forest dew.
I told myself that it was definitely a statue, but nonetheless I called out, "Hello?" No response, of course. I looked back at my companion, who looked further away than I suspected. Had she started to edge backwards down the path? I turned back to this thing, only a few paces ahead of me. I started to edge around it, and was startled that the head moved, following me with that void face. I spoke to it again, and again there was no answer, but it was somehow watching my every movement. My heart raced furiously at this point. I tried to rationalize an explanation. Someone in fetish-wear, a full-body vinyl suit. It was perfect, seamless. And how was she breathing? Some sort of perforation around her mouth? And what was she doing in the wilderness here? I looked around at the shadows, trying to find a hidden partner in what must be an elaborate practical joke. But there was nobody, except my red-headed companion in the distance. She called out to me, asking what it was. I didn't answer.
Maybe this woman in the vinyl suit, she couldn't speak. I couldn't leave her here. I decided that I would need to cut her out of it. I approached her and took out my pocket knife. "Don't worry," I said softly. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just going to cut away your suit so you can talk." It made no response to my words, but it didn't draw away from me and my knife.
I didn't want to start by cutting around her mouth, not until I understood how thick this layer of vinyl was, how easily it cut. So I took her arm in my hands, held it steady, and cut a tiny, delicate slit on her upper arm, in the shoulder area. There was no blood, that was good. But there was no skin, either. I cut a little deeper into the same groove, pushing deeper, ready to pull the knife back at the first sign of skin. But I sunk the knife an inch deep, and there was nothing. It was as though whatever rubbery thing was on the surface, she was that same substance straight to the core. Then she moved, took her free hand, and placed it over the wound.
I heard a scream. My companion, seeing this movement had obviously just realized that this was something more than a statue or shadow, and she went running in the other direction, back towards our car. I let her go. I turned back to this thing. "I'm sorry," I said, "I didn't know."
I took her arm again, inspecting the wound. It looked shallower now. But there was something else I hadn't noticed before: the places where my fingers touched, they changed in texture: slight goosebumps, like real skin. I held her arm, turned it over in my hands, marvelling at this change, which would fade a few seconds after my hand was removed. As I touched her hand she opened it outward to me, and as I touched her palm, palm-lines appeared. Whorls appeared on her fingertips as my own fingers traced them.
What was this contact to her? Why was she just allowing me to touch her in this way? I reached out, put a hand on her chin, and when she didn't resist, ran a thumb over it. For just a moment, lips formed. Beautiful full lips, but as inky black as the rest of her. I touched her nose, her brow, her ears, and all of these features came into detail, though her eyes remained closed, just perfectly-rendered closed eyelids. When I touched the top of her head, no hair formed, just a slight stubbliness, like a fresh-shaved scalp.
I looked back for my companion. She had long-since gone, and I was in no hurry to follow. My heart was still racing, but no longer with fear, simply the thrill of exploration. Still wondering if there was a point where this thing would stop me, my hand moved down it's neck, down over one breast, and those features, too, came into detail, an erect nipple, and her breast itself seemed to swell just slightly, still relatively small and elegant.
My hands continued to explore, and I was now nearly embracing this thing. Slowly, it began to respond, in just the most subtle of ways, its arms folding gently around me. Every movement it made seemed slower than a real human would move. Its skin acquired detail only where it touched my own skin. I kissed its plain chin, and immediately lips formed on the surface there, responding, slowly opening to my mouth. Every detail felt exactly like a real mouth, lips and teeth and tongue. Feeling this response, I finally let myself slip a hand between its thighs, and there felt it warm suddenly, felt what had been featureless as a window-display mannequin come into perfect detail: every fold, every rise and crevice. It did not lubricate. It simply became nearly frictionless, yet when I slipped a finger inside, held firmly against me. Its mouth opened wide, a gesture I took for pleasure, though it remained - literally - breathless.
I guided it to the ground, and it yielded to me... there was something off-putting about its utter silence, about its slow, dream-like movements, it's utter willingness. Almost like some elaborate sex toy. And yet I could feel its want. This thing lusted. And as it reached a point that must have been an orgasm, texture fluttered across the surface of its skin, ripples of detail. Until, for just a second, every detail of her skin, every feature was rendered at once, and I saw her not as simply unconnected features but the true beauty that she was. And yet as our bodies parted a while later, she became, once again, as featureless as when I first saw her across the forest. The wound on her arm had healed itself shut, without so much as a scar.
The dream becomes hazy at that point for a while. I think I have memories of it following me through the forest. Of me and my red-headed companion sitting in the car, with this glossy creature in the back seat. I can't imagine what sort of conversation I would have needed to have to convince her to bring it with us, but either my dream skipped over those problematic details, or my memory simply omitted them.
And then there's a motel room. It's got sort of a hunting and fishing motif to the curtains and bed-cover. My companion and I are trying to sleep, and the thing is sitting upright in a chair, facing our bed. It seems to have no interest in sleeping (or in anything else except watching us). We debate what to do with it: turning its chair away seems possibly even creepier. Do we lock it in the bathroom for the night? My companion gets up and turns on the light. So far, she has so far resisted touching it, but I've shown her (non-sexually) how its skin changes to the touch. I've told her about cutting into it with the knife. She walks over, and looks down at the thing, and it looks up at her. She touches it on the shoulder, and gasps as, for the first time, the skin responds to her touch. This is exciting to me, of course. The thought of this thing and her together, so I don't say anything. I just let her explore on her own, and watch from a distance.
Then she turns to me. "I thought you said it was female?"
"Oh, it definitely is."
She shakes her head, and I come closer. She runs a hand over its chin, and the features appear. But they are different than what I remember. The jawline is a stronger, and there's just a bit of a cleft quality to the chin. She removes her hand and the features fade. I reach out, and touch it where she had touched, and the same feminine features I remember from the forest appear. I run my hand over its neck: smooth and elegant, as I remember. She does the same, and there's an unmistakable adam's apple. Shoulders grow broad against her touch, then slender against mine. We explore together, almost like a game, each taking turns with its arms and and hands, chest and belly.
Then, looking at my companion, I slip my hand down between our plaything's thighs. I feel it transform beneath my hand, a full and warm vulva. Then I withdraw my hand. She bites her lip, reluctant to copy my gesture, and I need to prompt her before she reaches her hand between the dark thighs. Beneath her touch, it transforms. We both watch a long, glossy black cock emerge from her grip, to large for her hands to contain. It's the size and colour of the sort of dildo that appears in some more extreme masturbation videos. I kiss it on the lips, and they are womanly lips again, I caress the soft, womanly breasts, but my friend is fixated on those manly loins, abs and thighs of an adonis. The three of us work our way to the bed, this thing lying between us, facing her. Between our exploring hands, different parts of it are male features, female features, or blank and androgynous. My friend wants that cock, and I nod to her, not that she needs my permission. I watch her face as she takes it inside her, unquestionably the largest she's ever had. And yet I'm pressed up against a perfect woman's backside, her shoulders and neck, shoulderblades, the small of her neck, a perfect ass. I slip a finger there, into the asshole, feel it clench around me, and a moment later I'm sliding my cock into it again.
The fucking that follows is frenzied and confusing. At times we're a threesome with two men, and times with two women. At the moment of orgasm, every detail on the thing is rendered again, except that this time it is a jigsaw of male and female features, surreal and yet somehow as beautiful as the female features were on their own.
I woke up soon after that. I was, of course, completely hard and needed to play with the fantasy some more in my mind and give myself some relief before I could fall back asleep. I still can't get it out of my head. What was that thing? An alien?Something supernatural? World's greatest sex toy? Just a manifestation of a whole bunch of my desires? Anyway, thanks for reading! Just wanted to get it out there.
This woman and I were hiking in a rich, cool forest, the sort you associate with the Pacific Northwest or the coastal BC. My companion was a pale-skinned redhead, possibly someone I know from real life, a friend-of-a-friend, but I'm not totally sure on that. Inconsequential detail.
We were talking about how empty and quiet the forest was, and yet there was the sensation of being watched. We talked about the shadows, and how the sunlight was lost in the canopy of leaves far above us. Something was unsettling in the calm. My skin bristled a little, but we continued deeper into the forest.
Then my companion stifled a little cry, grabbed me by the arm, and pointed away across the forest, to a particularly shadowed area. I saw nothing, but she was insistent: a person in the shadows. Eventually I saw it, a shadow that had a roughly human shape. I scoffed. Just a shadow on a severed tree. Even in this light, if it was human you'd be able to make out some features. Yet as we took a few steps further along the path, I kept my eye on it. No, it wasn't a tree. It wasn't simply a shadow. There was something there, like a statue. It did look more human from this angle, but still lacked any detail, either in colour or form. At my companion's urging, I approached it through the brush. It was maybe 50 meters off the path, and as I got closer the illusion of humanity remained, but got no clearer, except to say that I could identify the form as being vaguely female, slender and elegant. It was posed with weight slightly favouring one leg, face toward me. It had only vague features, like a statue that had been weathered smooth by the elements, glossy smooth and damp with the forest dew.
I told myself that it was definitely a statue, but nonetheless I called out, "Hello?" No response, of course. I looked back at my companion, who looked further away than I suspected. Had she started to edge backwards down the path? I turned back to this thing, only a few paces ahead of me. I started to edge around it, and was startled that the head moved, following me with that void face. I spoke to it again, and again there was no answer, but it was somehow watching my every movement. My heart raced furiously at this point. I tried to rationalize an explanation. Someone in fetish-wear, a full-body vinyl suit. It was perfect, seamless. And how was she breathing? Some sort of perforation around her mouth? And what was she doing in the wilderness here? I looked around at the shadows, trying to find a hidden partner in what must be an elaborate practical joke. But there was nobody, except my red-headed companion in the distance. She called out to me, asking what it was. I didn't answer.
Maybe this woman in the vinyl suit, she couldn't speak. I couldn't leave her here. I decided that I would need to cut her out of it. I approached her and took out my pocket knife. "Don't worry," I said softly. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just going to cut away your suit so you can talk." It made no response to my words, but it didn't draw away from me and my knife.
I didn't want to start by cutting around her mouth, not until I understood how thick this layer of vinyl was, how easily it cut. So I took her arm in my hands, held it steady, and cut a tiny, delicate slit on her upper arm, in the shoulder area. There was no blood, that was good. But there was no skin, either. I cut a little deeper into the same groove, pushing deeper, ready to pull the knife back at the first sign of skin. But I sunk the knife an inch deep, and there was nothing. It was as though whatever rubbery thing was on the surface, she was that same substance straight to the core. Then she moved, took her free hand, and placed it over the wound.
I heard a scream. My companion, seeing this movement had obviously just realized that this was something more than a statue or shadow, and she went running in the other direction, back towards our car. I let her go. I turned back to this thing. "I'm sorry," I said, "I didn't know."
I took her arm again, inspecting the wound. It looked shallower now. But there was something else I hadn't noticed before: the places where my fingers touched, they changed in texture: slight goosebumps, like real skin. I held her arm, turned it over in my hands, marvelling at this change, which would fade a few seconds after my hand was removed. As I touched her hand she opened it outward to me, and as I touched her palm, palm-lines appeared. Whorls appeared on her fingertips as my own fingers traced them.
What was this contact to her? Why was she just allowing me to touch her in this way? I reached out, put a hand on her chin, and when she didn't resist, ran a thumb over it. For just a moment, lips formed. Beautiful full lips, but as inky black as the rest of her. I touched her nose, her brow, her ears, and all of these features came into detail, though her eyes remained closed, just perfectly-rendered closed eyelids. When I touched the top of her head, no hair formed, just a slight stubbliness, like a fresh-shaved scalp.
I looked back for my companion. She had long-since gone, and I was in no hurry to follow. My heart was still racing, but no longer with fear, simply the thrill of exploration. Still wondering if there was a point where this thing would stop me, my hand moved down it's neck, down over one breast, and those features, too, came into detail, an erect nipple, and her breast itself seemed to swell just slightly, still relatively small and elegant.
My hands continued to explore, and I was now nearly embracing this thing. Slowly, it began to respond, in just the most subtle of ways, its arms folding gently around me. Every movement it made seemed slower than a real human would move. Its skin acquired detail only where it touched my own skin. I kissed its plain chin, and immediately lips formed on the surface there, responding, slowly opening to my mouth. Every detail felt exactly like a real mouth, lips and teeth and tongue. Feeling this response, I finally let myself slip a hand between its thighs, and there felt it warm suddenly, felt what had been featureless as a window-display mannequin come into perfect detail: every fold, every rise and crevice. It did not lubricate. It simply became nearly frictionless, yet when I slipped a finger inside, held firmly against me. Its mouth opened wide, a gesture I took for pleasure, though it remained - literally - breathless.
I guided it to the ground, and it yielded to me... there was something off-putting about its utter silence, about its slow, dream-like movements, it's utter willingness. Almost like some elaborate sex toy. And yet I could feel its want. This thing lusted. And as it reached a point that must have been an orgasm, texture fluttered across the surface of its skin, ripples of detail. Until, for just a second, every detail of her skin, every feature was rendered at once, and I saw her not as simply unconnected features but the true beauty that she was. And yet as our bodies parted a while later, she became, once again, as featureless as when I first saw her across the forest. The wound on her arm had healed itself shut, without so much as a scar.
The dream becomes hazy at that point for a while. I think I have memories of it following me through the forest. Of me and my red-headed companion sitting in the car, with this glossy creature in the back seat. I can't imagine what sort of conversation I would have needed to have to convince her to bring it with us, but either my dream skipped over those problematic details, or my memory simply omitted them.
And then there's a motel room. It's got sort of a hunting and fishing motif to the curtains and bed-cover. My companion and I are trying to sleep, and the thing is sitting upright in a chair, facing our bed. It seems to have no interest in sleeping (or in anything else except watching us). We debate what to do with it: turning its chair away seems possibly even creepier. Do we lock it in the bathroom for the night? My companion gets up and turns on the light. So far, she has so far resisted touching it, but I've shown her (non-sexually) how its skin changes to the touch. I've told her about cutting into it with the knife. She walks over, and looks down at the thing, and it looks up at her. She touches it on the shoulder, and gasps as, for the first time, the skin responds to her touch. This is exciting to me, of course. The thought of this thing and her together, so I don't say anything. I just let her explore on her own, and watch from a distance.
Then she turns to me. "I thought you said it was female?"
"Oh, it definitely is."
She shakes her head, and I come closer. She runs a hand over its chin, and the features appear. But they are different than what I remember. The jawline is a stronger, and there's just a bit of a cleft quality to the chin. She removes her hand and the features fade. I reach out, and touch it where she had touched, and the same feminine features I remember from the forest appear. I run my hand over its neck: smooth and elegant, as I remember. She does the same, and there's an unmistakable adam's apple. Shoulders grow broad against her touch, then slender against mine. We explore together, almost like a game, each taking turns with its arms and and hands, chest and belly.
Then, looking at my companion, I slip my hand down between our plaything's thighs. I feel it transform beneath my hand, a full and warm vulva. Then I withdraw my hand. She bites her lip, reluctant to copy my gesture, and I need to prompt her before she reaches her hand between the dark thighs. Beneath her touch, it transforms. We both watch a long, glossy black cock emerge from her grip, to large for her hands to contain. It's the size and colour of the sort of dildo that appears in some more extreme masturbation videos. I kiss it on the lips, and they are womanly lips again, I caress the soft, womanly breasts, but my friend is fixated on those manly loins, abs and thighs of an adonis. The three of us work our way to the bed, this thing lying between us, facing her. Between our exploring hands, different parts of it are male features, female features, or blank and androgynous. My friend wants that cock, and I nod to her, not that she needs my permission. I watch her face as she takes it inside her, unquestionably the largest she's ever had. And yet I'm pressed up against a perfect woman's backside, her shoulders and neck, shoulderblades, the small of her neck, a perfect ass. I slip a finger there, into the asshole, feel it clench around me, and a moment later I'm sliding my cock into it again.
The fucking that follows is frenzied and confusing. At times we're a threesome with two men, and times with two women. At the moment of orgasm, every detail on the thing is rendered again, except that this time it is a jigsaw of male and female features, surreal and yet somehow as beautiful as the female features were on their own.
I woke up soon after that. I was, of course, completely hard and needed to play with the fantasy some more in my mind and give myself some relief before I could fall back asleep. I still can't get it out of my head. What was that thing? An alien?Something supernatural? World's greatest sex toy? Just a manifestation of a whole bunch of my desires? Anyway, thanks for reading! Just wanted to get it out there.
