A Most Peculiar Night Ch. 01

(Note to reader: this story contains no actual sex or masturbation whatsoever, so anyone looking for that should look elsewhere. This is a story about a teenage girl who finds herself in a surreal dreamworld with a (very perverted) mind of its own. She gets (and stays) naked quite a lot. I wrote this because it's one of my favorite erotic scenarios and I haven't seen anyone write anything similar. Enjoy! And only review if you like the general concept and have thoughts for improvement or just like it.)

It was the middle of the night, and Sara couldn't sleep.

Sara, a girl of 18, was a caucasian brunette with hair that reached halfway down her back. She was lying in bed, staring unblinkingly at the old clock on her bedroom wall, the source of her unrest. The clock itself was nothing to cause alarm. It was a very plain clock, old-fashioned, with a perfectly commonplace pendulum below the face. No, nothing out of the ordinary.

The only thing was that a few minutes ago, it had stopped dead at twelve midnight.

It was that pendulum that made it all the worse, though. Not only did it outright eliminate the possibility that it simply needed winding (pendulum clocks don't wind), but even the pendulum itself had stopped dead as well. In fact (though it may have been the angle she was looking from) it looked like the pendulum was positioned somewhat shy of the middle, as if gravity stopped working.

Or time had stood still.

Sara quickly brushed the idea aside. Sure, there's no way she could know that time had never stopped before, but it certainly hadn't ever happened to all but one person. Still, she couldn't shake that scary thought from the back of her mind, and thus she couldn't bring herself to sleep.

At least until a thought occurred to her: even if time had stopped, so what? What danger could she be in if everything was still?

Before she could come up with a suitable counter-argument to her own reasoning, She took the opportunity to go to sleep. No doubt this was all a dream she simply had to wait to end.

When Sara next woke up, it was still dark. Disappointingly, not only was the clock still frozen, but an odd hourglass (which she knew she didn't have in her room before) was on the table in her room, halfway through its supply of sand. And, like the clock, the sand inside wasn't moving, and grains were suspended in mid-descent.

Sara got out from under the covers and sat up on her bed. She was wearing a pink fuzzy pajama top and matching pajama bottom. And, as her first movements in what had to be several hours made her realize, that was all she was wearing.

This surprised Sara even further (not nearly as much as the halted time measuring implements, mind you, but still significantly), as she always wore underwear beneath her pajamas. In fact, she knew for certain that she had her underwear on when she went to bed. She knew full well that when time itself has stopped and hourglasses appear out of thin air to remind you of that, a lack of undergarments should be the least of one's worries. Then again, if time truly had stopped, what was the problem of wasting it? So she decided to get some underwear to put on.

Her dresser was on the other side of her room (a poor choice of positioning, she thought) and she really didn't feel like straying further from her bed than she had to. But all the same, she pushed herself off the bed with the palms of her hands and landed on the floor.

Unfortunately for her, for whatever reason, the floor had decided it didn't want to be solid anymore, and somehow was behaving quite like quicksand. In a few seconds she was knee deep in the floor. Frantically she grabbed the bed and pulled herself out of the floor, back to the safety of her bed, which somehow wasn't sinking. Strangely, though it clearly acted like liquid, the floor looked exactly as it did before she stepped onto, or in this case, INTO it. Not only that, but none of the liquid floor was stuck to her pajama pants.

Now, when time stops, underwear disappears and carpeting over hardwood floor starts acting like thick, bottomless mud, one generally loses trust in the laws of reality. Such was the case with Sara. So she tried to do what little experimenting she could. She took a small marble she happened to have in her pocket (one which she certainly had never seen in her life; nobody in her family even likes marbles) and dropped it to the floor, to see if it would ripple like water. However, not only did it not ripple, the marble also made contact with the carpet much the same way it usually would. The bed, the small rug in the middle of the room, the table, the chair, the dresser, none of it sank through the floor. Only her.

This finally gave her an idea. She took her pillow, carefully laid it on the floor by the bed, and, while grabbing the bed with both hands for dear life, placed her feet onto it. As she had hoped, her feet stayed firmly above the surface of the carpet. She then carefully stepped onto the small rug in the middle of the room. Reaching out to grab the pillow from the floor, she walked to the other end of the rug and used the pillow to bridge the final gap between her and her dresser. She stepped on the pillow and turned to her right to face her objective. She looked for the underwear drawer, grabbed the handle, and pulled on it.

Unfortunately, it didn't budge. No matter how hard she pulled, it wouldn't open. She tried other drawers, and they opened perfectly, even more so than normal. But that underwear drawer was stuck fast. She pulled with all her might, and it wasn't until it was too late that she realized how stupid an idea that was.

Just as Sara pulled on the door with all her might, the handle, as if to mock her, came clean off, causing the force she exerted to launch her backward. And thanks to the angle of the dresser, there was nothing for her to land on but the quicksand carpet.

And land on the carpet she did. Just like before, she started sinking, only this time, she was flat on her back, making reaching for something to pull herself out with a much more difficult task. Struggle as she did, Sara couldn't escape, and so she sank into the dark unknown that was the 1st floor ceiling.

But as she had come to expect by now, that was not where she was. Or at the very least, the first floor wasn't where she was going.

She had been in the mysterious substance for what seemed like 8 minutes, realizing in the meantime that not only could she breathe easily in the substance, but she could also have her eyes open in it without damaging them or feeling pain. Not that there was anything to see, though. As far as she looked in every direction, there was nothing but darkness.

Eventually, she felt an odd sensation in her right fingertips. It spread down her fingers, to her palm, to the rest of her arm, until she realized that it was the sensation of being surrounded with air. Soon after Sara realized that, she broke through the ceiling and fell to the ground.

Sara couldn't quite grasp where she was. For one thing, it didn't resemble any type of building she had ever seen. The walls, floor and ceiling were made of a tile that was firm but comfortable on her bare feet. It was well lit, though it wasn't apparent what was giving off the light. No torches, light bulbs or other light-bearing objects could be seen anywhere. She pondered this briefly, then realized that the world had recently become clearly absurd, and decided to simply accept that the room was, for whatever reason, lit. And heated, too. It was quite a comfortable temperature, and it was uniform throughout the whole room. The tiles felt no colder or warmer than the air around her. If it even WAS air, she wasn't sure of even that anymore.

The room resembled a long tunnel, one that she was at either the beginning or end of. In short, she had only one way to go. As she started walking, she noticed a sign that slipped her gaze earlier. It was written in a peculiar font, but clearly legible, it read:

DO WHAT YOU MUST TO MAKE YOURSELF COMFORTABLE.

Quite a benevolent message, but she was unnerved and curious as to wether or not it was written by human hands. In any case, Sara decided to continue onward, as there was nothing she could do to restore time or return home where she was.

As she walked, she became aware that, while the tiles remained at the same perfect, ideal temperature to walk on, the air became steadily warmer. She tried walking back where she came from, but it got warmer still. By the time she got back to where she was when she first noticed the temperature change, the room was quite uncomfortable. Uncomfortable, yes. She remembered the sign and what it said. She looked at the buttons on her pajama top. There were five of them, going down to about 1/3 the way down the shirt, to be undone when one is having trouble fitting one's head through the hole. She took the top button on her pajama top and unbuttoned it.

This quickly made her feel much more comfortable, far more than it should have, she thought. For one, she only unbuttoned one of the buttons on her top. She had only hoped to air out her upper body slightly, but for some reason it brought her to a comfortable temperature again. Not only did Sara's chest feel cooler, but her arms, her legs (which shouldn't have been affected at all by undoing a shirt button) and even her face and hands and feet which were outside her clothes altogether felt cooler. This made no sense, but it didn't matter. The unbearable heat was gone.

But after walking for about three minutes, it returned. Again, she undid another button, and again, the heat faded as quickly and nonsensically as it came. Curious, and fearful that she knew what the cause was (and she didn't like it), Sara decided to test something the next time the heat came. When it inevitably returned, rather than unbutton the third button, she undid the first knot of the double-knot tying the waist of her pajama pants. While she wasn't airing anything out, or touching anything that was even touching her body, the heat vanished yet again.

Sara's fear had turned out to be true: the heat had nothing to do with what she was wearing. This tunnel seemed to be pressuring her into, and rewarding her for, undoing her clothing. How far this force would go on, she didn't know. But three of the five buttons on her pajama top were left fastened. She didn't want to know what would happen if she tried buttoning any of them back up again, so she decided she had to be more sparing with the buttons.

The next time the heat started rising again, she managed to take it for about 15 minutes, at which point she started sweating profusely. She tried to bear with it further, but it was no use. She had never been more uncomfortable in her life, and the tunnel did not look like it was ending any time soon. And so, she gave in and unbuttoned the third button on her top.

Two remained, and Sara decided to try and hold out longer the next time. Unfortunately, the tunnel heat, as if responding to her act of defiance, heated up almost twice as fast as before. Despite this, though she didn't last as long, she managed to reach a higher temperature before giving in. One button left, and still no end in sight. She began to wonder if the tunnel even had an end. She was running out of time.

As she continued down the tunnel, she began to notice the walls and floor getting slightly cooler, and somewhat damp. The air continued to heat up as normal, but the floor still somehow steadily got damper. Eventually she found that the walls and floor had enough water left on them to wipe over her face to cool herself off. It didn't work for long, though, and at long last the final button was undone.

Sara continued walking, finally out of buttons to ward off the heat. If anyone had been in the tunnel with her, they would have gotten a very good view of her cleavage at this point, but the thought never occurred to Sara. She was focused on escaping with her life. The next time the heat came, all she could do was undo the second knot on her pajama pants, and she'd have nothing left to undo. What if the heat didn't stop there? What if it never stopped? What if she died there?

When the heat came finally, it came very fast, so fast in fact that she immediately untied her pajama pants much sooner than she should have. They stayed on, as they had elastic as well, but now, if she wanted to, she could take them off. She was out of time, and she decided to run.

Sara was quite fast. She ran track in her high school track team, and was among the faster half of the 25 members. Even so, running was a very bad idea. As the floor and walls got steadily damper, they also got more and more slippery, until finally, as graceful as she was in her form, she fell to the floor. Additionally, when the heat came immediately after her fall, she had already worked up such a sweat from running that the heat was immediately unbearable. Looking down the tunnel, it didn't appear to end as far as she could see, and Sara ultimately realized that it didn't matter how long she held out. Defeated, she got up, pulled her pajama top over her head, and slid off her pajama pants, standing in the middle of this mysterious hallway completely naked from head to toe.

This time, the heat vanished. Hoping to God that this time it was for good, she attempted to walk further, only to bump into what appeared to be an invisible wall. Checking behind her, she met a similar obstruction. She slowly started to see an image appear on both of the walls, and in a few seconds she realized it was her. The invisible walls were becoming mirrors. She saw herself staring back at her.

Sara was far to modest to ever admit this, but she was stunningly beautiful. She wasn't at all "chubby", but she had enough body fat that her ribcage wasn't showing against her skin, something she noticed with disdain on several supermodels. Her skin was incredibly smooth, and she had a naturally slow-growing bush that she kept shaved, though hardly needed to. The most remarkable parts of her, however, were her breasts. They were perfect half-spheres, firm and perky, that never sagged. They were also large enough to use in sex, though she wouldn't know, she was still a virgin. This wasn't because she was shy, or saving herself for marriage, but because she wanted a boyfriend who didn't just like her for her body. And so, not only was she a virgin, but to that day not a single man had ever seen her naked. And as difficult as it was going to be in her situation, she intended to keep it that way.

Soon, however, the mirrors disappeared, only for her to find that her pajamas, which were past the mirror behind her, had vanished. On the bright side, it had certainly been 3 minutes since she became naked, and there was no sign of the mysterious heatwave. It was finally over. After a sigh of relief, she continued forward. Soon afterward, however, she started hearing what sounded like running water. Looking behind her, she saw that water was pouring out of the ceiling behind her, and steadily moving closer. At this point she realized that she was covered in sweat from running, and was quite hot and sticky. She knew it was crazy to consider in this place, but a shower wouldn't be half bad.

She wasn't sure where the water was coming from, but then again, she wasn't sure about anything in this new world, So when the water started coming down from where she was, she started rinsing herself off. It was a very comfortable temperature, the same as the room, in fact. She then realized that this must have been why the walls and floor were damp. Normally she would never even think about bathing in a place as open and foreign as this place was, but the water was so relaxing and warm and soothing that she didn't care at the moment. Noticing that part of the ceiling was trickling soap, she took some and lathered it all over her arms, legs, face, stomach, feet, hips, and breasts. She had been fearing for her life only a few minutes ago, and now she seemed to enjoy this world's antics. Some of the water got in her mouth, and she realized it didn't taste like water, but rather a combination of all the sweetest foods she could think of. She loved the taste, and when she couldn't gather enough in her hands, she lay flat on her back, washing the soap off her body while collecting the delicious clear liquid in her open mouth.

In a few minutes, however, she noticed that the liquid was touching her ears, and realized the water level was rising. Only slightly jarred out of the utter bliss that the delicious warm water placed her under, she wondered if the water level would continue to increase. To be safe, she waited until the water level was high enough for her to stick her head under, and then tested to see if, like the quicksand floor, this substance was breathable.

As soon as she realized it indeed was, her worries faded yet again and she returned to her blissful state, allowing the delicious warm water to slowly engulf her entire body, until the whole tunnel was filled with it. Soon, when the water was high enough for her to float freely in it without touching the walls, she felt so comfortable that she slowly drifted off into a deep sleep.

When Sara awoke, she was in a very soft bed. When she finally felt like moving, she found she was still naked, and smelled very pleasant, like the sweet water (which she decided to call "sweetwater") she had bathed in before she slept. When she finally felt like actually looking around to see where she was, she found her bed was suspended in midair along with a large number of other beds, above a surface she couldn't determine. She was very high up.

This was going to be a long night.