Penetrations, Pt. 1 of 5.

         Wendy Sturmer regained consciousness in a confined frightening environment under circumstances alien to her.  She blinked her eyes and saw a dim yellow light about, but all was deathly quiet beyond, like the void of space.  Her lovely body even had a feeling of floating, especially the top half, and she soon discovered the reason why.  "Where . . . am I?" she thought.  "Scott has to find me, help me get . . . out of here."

         The front of her throat hurt some, and she noticed a fat balloon-like structure resembling a tire inner tube around her neck contract and expand in accordance to her breathing.  She turned her head a little with difficulty and became more afraid when the thing could not be removed, and it seemed to resist her exhalations and force her inspirations.  The reason was obvious.  She was immersed in a clear syrupy fluid that was thickening, and a thin slippery second skin was snug against her form in place of her removed clothing.  Thus, the fingers of her hands were greatly restricted also.

         She found the spongy collar most comfortable only while looking up, with her head back, and largely hung from it in the large ovoidal cell when still.  Her tongue probed the smooth inside surface of the tight hood, now translucent, and she tried to scream after being unsuccessful at biting it open.  She could only utter short faint grunts and wheezing sounds into the external respiratory structure next but was surprised when a vague passing silhouette made the light in front of her flicker.  There was another presence nearby.  "Who's there," she wondered.  

         Celeste stood in knee-deep slime and watched Wendy force herself down with difficulty and press her hands against the rubbery wall of the slowly shrinking cell.  The whole thing was embedded in a supporting layer of resinous gray matter laced with a bio-luminescent flora unknown to the scientific world of man and bulged or shook meagerly to her vain struggles.  "Such a strong woman you are, dear!  Your strength will be needed to resist the will of the old one long enough for me to attract and take what is mine," she quietly commented.  "So, only the best is saved for last again."  

         Celeste walked a dozen meters and stopped in front of another shimmering, almost clear enclosure to observe the condition of another frantic victim of lesser intrinsic value to her -- Patrice.  The confined woman was near the bottom of her smaller rubbery cage doubled up and appeared to be struggling with less vigor inside of a whitish amoeboid mass, fighting the uncanny second skin slowly assimilating her.  The thick fluid she had initially been put in was now a denser condensed gel that more stubbornly shared its dissolved oxygen content with her life-sustaining respiratory collar, now more rapidly pulsating within the snug membrane.  Only the adenalin of her panicky state gave her the ability to prevail inside the inescapable womb.  

         Celeste bent down forward and patted the wet warm exterior of the cell; her restrained captive reacted almost immediately, as if feeling the delicate vibrations of the arrogant act.  Actually, the change in outside light drew the response.  Patrice rolled to the front of the gel bubble and pressed her masked face against the wall of the confinement, moving her mouth simultaneously to express greater distress.  She looked heavily coated with paste or as if concealed further in a tight suffocating, all-body suit for, she could not much separate her weakened limbs from her torso or each other any longer.  While sliding away from direct view, she shook her head back and forth, pleading silently, and Celeste stood straight again and said, "Pitiful little woman!  Soon, your struggles will be no more, and you will become part of the old one too.  You should have all thought twice before coming into our territory."  

         Patrice did not hear the description of her ultimate eventual fate or positively identify her observer and continued to offer futile resistance in the hope of surviving the strange deadly ordeal.  For almost another half a minute, she twisted, rolled, and squirmed in the gel medium to cause her cell to tremble, bulge, and stretch, as if to give the whole thing a living characteristic of irregular breathing itself.  Then, the intensity of the incoming light returned to its previous level, and she rested only to succumb more to her new, much stronger clingy film.  

         The wall of Wendy's oppressive cell twitched and stretched outward much at Celeste abruptly when she carefully walked by it again.  The sudden movement of the captive inside took her by surprise, and she stopped and turned her head fast near the exit of the dreary chamber to check her status one more time.  "Ha!  Struggle all you can in there, lover.  Scott was and has always belonged to me," she firmly said.  "I'll show you well enough."  

         Wendy thought the same words echoed spontaneously from the depths of her mind, until she concentrated more from the growing fear and realized that the other sinister voice distinctly came from the other side of the flexible barrier.  It also sounded confident and faint, like that of a harsh lifeguard to a careless swimmer a short distance underwater. However, she and Patrice nearby were not drowning, but instead, deteriorating in a way they never thought possible toward a slow hideous death.  

         The subsequent silence, aside from the gasping noise of her labored breathing, brought the fear to a climax within her, and she responded predictably.  Her shapely vulnerable body went into a graceful frenzy in the near-weightlessness, and she kicked and swiped at the slippery front side of the large bubble prison while uttering instinctive primal grunts, until her senses became unstable.  The secure life-supporting collar could not absorb oxygen from the condensing fluid environment and through the suppressing skin fast enough to supply her need at such times of maximum demand.  Very dizzy, her sleek pretty form floated up and backward gradually then, moved much more lazily, and surrendered its strength again to the exotic special trap.  "Where are you, Scott?" her fading mind demanded.  "Dear god, get out of this thing alive."


Continued to Pt. 2.