The Watchers

Jen put the glass of water on her bedside cabinet and looked at the clock. I was only a quarter to midnight. She hadn't been to bed this early in months. Ever since she had started modelling full-time, she had been to shoots and parties in the evenings. For a long time she had felt that she was becoming nocturnal. That had to change. Her life was taking its toll and her career demanded physical excellence, perfection perhaps. She was only 23 but she felt twice her age. Her muscles ached and her mind seemed like a badly tuned radio, mostly meaningless static with the occasional suggestion of voices. It was time to go to bed early and get some proper sleep. She had been living on too little food and too many pills for a long time.

Feeling slightly childish and very lonely, she climbed into her bed. She reached out for the light switch but she knew that she could not turn it off. Sleeping in the dark was too much. For more than a week, she had been having the strangest dreams. She had dreamt that there were things watching her. Whatever they were, the dream didn't supply their shapes but Jen knew they had eyes and they never stopped watching. Her best friend, Tom, had just shrieked with laughter and told her it was the most obvious dream her had ever heard. A model who dreams about being stared at. Come on, girl! Could it be more clear. Just the standard paranoia of the beautiful, darling, our little cross to bear.

Turning away from the lamp on her cabinet, Jen shut her eyes and tried to snuggle into her bed. As a girl, she had never been afraid of the dark. Sleeping had been as natural as breathing. Now it was different. Sleep seemed like a waste of time. Sleep also let her mind run wild and think about the things she had done.

In the dark of her mind, Jen remembered the shoots of the past few days. Lingerie, leather, lace. Her skin glistening with oil. The shots of her large breasts with a huge dildo pressed between them. The shots of her pussy. She had always said that topless was as far as she went but the money had been so good. What did it matter if she spread her legs and lips to the camera? The men might see her... they did not know her.

She imagined hundreds of eyes on her body.

Jen quickly sat up and looked around the room. There was nobody there. Of course there was nobody there. Feeling foolish, she looked under the bed. Nothing but a few storage boxes full of winter clothes. Irritated at her own stupidity, she lay back down. The light of the lamp was still visible through her eyelids, colouring the darkness with a redness that felt comforting.

Jen thought of Mick. He had not called in three days. She had cracked today and called him but there was no answer. Typical man. He had enjoyed her and become bored. The sex had been so good, so wild. She had hoped that her body, her face and her willingness in bed would be enough to keep him with her. Guys always wanted her, she knew that but so few actually wanted to stay. She could not understand it. If they would just remain loyal and be there when she needed them, she would be anything they wanted. Mick had seemed different. He wasn't as pretty as the men she normally dated but she had hoped his ordinary, slightly scruffy appearance was a sign of honesty. He was an artist and a part-time charity worker. Surely that meant he had character? But now he was unreachable. He had vanished. The few friends of hers who knew Mick hadn't seen him in a few days.

He would call tomorrow. It would be ok. He would come round and spend the night. Then she wouldn't feel that she was being watched.

Watched by a hundred eyes.

The eyes were probably all over the walls and ceiling. Under the bed too. Just like the monsters that children are supposed to imagine. Jen had never thought of monsters under the bed until now. She imagined waiting in the dark between the boxes. Huge and slimy, like slugs. Yuck. Slugs with those eyes on stalks that expand outwards upwards. Peering. Expanding upwards. Cocks expanded upwards. Better to think of cocks. Mick's cock would keep her mind off the eyes. She started to think of him, half remembering, half fantasizing. She let her right hand drift down between her legs and cup the perfectly shaven mound of her pussy. Her middle finger rubbed idly and gently at her clit as she thought of his tongue there. His tongue on her clit as she sat on his face and watched his cock growing. Outwards and upwards. Slug eyes. Yuck. She was half dreaming now. Images blending and thoughts losing themselves, no longer under her control. Her breathing was deep and regular but she was not fully asleep.

Her finger still teased her clit as she licked her full lips and remembered the taste of Mick's balls in her mouth. She had told him she would do whatever he liked. He had been so gentle and shy at first, too much of a gentleman. Knowing that he was holding back, she had said that she loved to please and he could ask for anything, she wouldn't be shocked. When he had said he wanted her to lick his balls she had immediately offered to go further. She remembered, seeing and feeling it in her half-dream, lying on her back and telling him to kneel over her face. The scent of him made her horny as he softly lowered his balls into her warm, wet mouth. She had licked and gently sucked as he groaned and stroked himself above her. Then she had snaked her tongue away, behind his balls, to his anus. His moans of surprise and delight had thrilled her. That had opened his eyes to how bad she was prepared to be. She had opened his eyes. His eyes had watched her.

She had performed for him. Using toys on herself, using fingers, using anything they could find to fit inside her. She remembered the chill of the cucumber, straight from the fridge as it sank deep into her hot pussy. Then there was the more shameful image of herself, bent over on all fours, as Mick knelt behind her and slowly forced the same cucumber into her arse. She had thought that it was too much, too vulgar, but she had wanted to please him. It had been thick, cool and slick from her pussy. Thinking of cool, slick things brought her mind back to the expanding slugs that hid in the dark between spaces. The cucumber in her mind was bigger than it had been in reality. It was dark, dark green, thick and veined like a massive prick. Mick was stroking it, engorging it, pushing it towards her buttocks. She was bent over looking back in fear and desperation, murmuring, "Just stay with me! I'll do what you want. I don't want to be alone."

The dream made her sad but her finger kept rubbing, more firmly now.

The grotesque green cock nudged at her anus, dribbling thick warm slime down over her pussy. She felt disgusted, nauseous, but still she kept rubbing herself. Andy would stay if he could watch her doing this. Shifting and flexing, the monstrous cock seemed to shrink as it pushed and she felt her anus give to the probing. The sense of violation was the same every time a man fucked or fingered her there. It ws something so wrong, not morally but physically. Her body always revolted at first but she could usually control herself.

In the dream, the thick, strange cock pushed deeper. In reality, Jen was rubbing furiously. She was completely unaware of the light dimming around her.

Now that it was inside, the appendage grew, stretching muscles and membranes within her. She let out a low sound, half scream, half grunt. In reality she simply groaned and shifted uneasily beneath the gaze of the eyes. The covers had slipped from her body and only her long t-shirt covered her now.

The dream made little physical sense and she was aware, in a distant way, that it was only her mind. She thought of Tom standing by the bed and shaking his head with laughter. "Sweety, I can read you like a book. A dirty book!" he giggled and slipped away into the shadows of the dream. There were other things in the shadows. They had glistening eyes. She could not see them clearly and she was glad of it.

Mick's tongue was on her clit as the huge thing moved wetly backwards and forwards, in and out of her anus. There were fingers, too, pushing up into her pussy. Expanding upwards. She had not time to think of that. She had to suck a cock. It was the photographer from years ago, back before she had been sought after. She remembered pretending that she had fancied him, knowing in her soul that it was simply an exchange: he would cum in her mouth and her image would be fed to hundreds of eyes. He had talked through the whole blow job, whispering to her about the men that would be shooting their loads on her picture. He had thought the idea turned her on. It had made him grow and harden. He had cum on face and in her mouth, telling her all the while that a hundred men, a thousand men, a million men would do the same.

She sucked at the dream-cock, closing her eyes so that she did not have to see how green and slimy it was. It was too much. Even in a dream it was too much. To be violated like this, with all the eyes looking on. She screwed her eyes tight and tried to hide in the dark. Still the thick, warm cock slid in and out of her mouth. The thing in her anus throbbed, growing and shrinking rhythmically. Finger after finger snaked into her pussy, stretching her and holding her open. She remembered the first time she had parted her lips for the camera, wondering what would satisfy the watchers. Did they have to see inside her before they would rest?

She could hear the voice of the photographer, tuning in and out amidst her mind's static. "Hundreds of them, sexy, thousands of them, you sexy bitch, hundreds of thousands of them all cumming for you!" There was also the voice of Mick, gasping out, "You're so beautiful! You're so bad!"

Images flashed through her head. Every shoot she had ever done. The costumes, the toys, the oils. Every fuck she had ever had. Cocks in every place imaginable, cum coating her face, her hair, her breasts. They eyes that looked with lust at the new form they had given her.

Suddenly her dream seemed to be smashed. It was an earthquake, it was thunders, it was an explosion. The cock in her mouth expanded so quickly and so massively that she choked it out of her. A huge gout of cum jetted into her face, seeming to drown her for a second. The thing in her anus pounded painfully deep and she felt the hideous sensation of her insides being filled. Hundreds, thousands, millions of men, cumming and watching. Amongst the fingers in her pussy, something shoved itself deep into her and, to her horror and surprise, she found herself unable to suppress an orgasm that made her spasm and her eyes open wide. For a moment, she was surrounded by sickly, greenish light. It was a phosphorescence that should only be under the water, in deep and unknown places. Shining wetly in the foul light, were hundreds of varied eyes. Each one stared at her as she came.

Panting and awake in the darkness, Jen froze. The nightmare had been so intense that it had awoken her. Her eyes were shut and she was shuddering. The orgasm had been real and that made the whole thing worse.

She realized that she could not see the light through her eyelids. It must be a power cut. The noise had been thunder and lightning had cut off the power. That was it. She told herself that her explanation was the only one that made sense.

Her breathing was ragged and her body felt coated in sweat. It was a summer night and she had been having a nightmare. Nothing strange there. Se could feel the t-shirt clinging to her. Even her pillow was slick and warm. The fabric was coated with drool. She had been sleep-drooling. How unattractive. She wondered what the time was. She told herself that there was no point in opening her eyes, the digital clock would be off. No power.

The bed was very wet. She wondered if she had had an accident. No. It was sweat. It had to be. But sweat wasn't so warm and thick. Her fingers moved between her legs. Wet there, too. She couldn't have cum so hard she soaked the bed, could she?

She moved her body against the wet sheets beneath her. They were so warm. It did not make sense. Perhaps she was still dreaming.

She had to get out of this bed and this room. Even if it meant running into the street. Something terrible was wrong here. She must be ill. She would find her phone and call somebody. She could not be alone tonight.

She was not alone.

She could hear movement. The sound of limbs against limbs. Someone crossing their arms? Crossing their legs? Or was it the sound of two people embracing? There was no breathing. Just the sound of flesh moving softly against flesh.

Something warm, thick and wet dripped onto her face. It was no bigger than a rain drop but it made her scream and look around her.

She sat up in bed, rigid with fear. Even with her eyes wide, she could see absolutely nothing. The room was utterly dark. There were no shapes before her eyes. It was impossible. Even in a power cut, there should surely be some light through the curtains. Shaking with terror, she reached out to her cabinet, trying to find the lamp or a glass of water. Anything to tell her that the room was real and just as it had been.

Her hand moved deep into a mass of warm, wet, wriggling filaments. They felt like garden worms but much thicker. They were dangling in empty space, or possibly hanging from the ceiling. Jen shrieked and pull her hand back as though it had been bitten. The mass of worms clung to her and seemed to let go only reluctantly as she pulled away.

Jen leaned over the side of the bed and vomited.

She realized that she was hallucinating. It must be a bad trip. Someone had spiked her drink. Her brother had told her about a bad acid trip he had experienced in his teens. He said you just had to live through it and come out stronger on the other side. She screamed for help and hugged her knees.

There were wet sounds in the room. Drips falling from the ceiling. Sounds like huge tongues moistening vast lips.

Hundreds, thousands, millions of eyes. Watching and wanting.

They were all around. Over her and around her. Beneath the bed. The slugs between the spaces. They had been all over the bed, making it warm and wet. They liked things to be warm and wet.

There was a sound like a muffled groan of pleasure. Something without a mouth was moaning with delight.

Jen sat shivering, hugging herself, her mind almost empty. She wished it could be empty. She did wanted to go mad so that she didn't have to face this bad trip. Just drugs. Just chemicals in her brain.

Something gentle and smooth brushed her thigh. She shrieked and lashed a fist down at the exploring thing. It was a cable as thick as her arm, rubbery and warm. It was squashed between her fist and the bed but it did not burst. It flattened out and then writhed with an astonishing strength and quickness. It leapt up her attacking arm and wrapped around her wrist.

Howling with fear, Jen tried to pull away and leap off the bed but the living rope pulled her firmly and implacably back . She reached out her free hand, trying to grip the edge of the bed but another searcher had found her. The rope was the same as its brother but it was not going to be attacked. It swiftly coiled around her free forearm and held her in an unbreakable grip. The surface of it against her arm was warm and flexible but it held to her like the base of a slug holding to a sheet of glass.

Her mind did not, would not, break. Jen realized that her paranoia had been intuition. They had been watching her. Tom was wrong. Her dreams had not been about the men who desired her. Her dreams had been her mind sensing other intelligences. Somehow, she had been found and selected. These things had chosen her to feed their obscure desires. The knowledge became a certainty in her mind. They had been watching her for weeks, learning about her, probing her mind. They had watched her actions and her fantasies. Now they wanted to experiment with what they had learnt.

They meant her no harm. They wanted to enjoy her. They wanted her to enjoy them. She would not be alone. They would stay with her.

"No!" shouted Jen at the confused and incomprehensible creatures. "This isn't what I meant! This isn't what I want!"

The darkness did not reply. There were only the sounds of flesh sliding, moving and unfolding. Warm, viscous fluid dripped from above.

Jen thrashed her arms and legs but it was no use. Her upper arms were being explored and embraced. Then further ropes found her calves and thighs. She remembered Mick tying her to the bed posts, arms and legs stretched out in a giant cross. They had watched and learnt. The pressure from the ropes grew greater. "No!" she yelled, desperately trying to pull herself into a ball. The hours in the gym had made her strong but the restraints of the watchers had more strength than her muscles. They increased the pressure slowly, by the slightest degrees, until Jen cried out with despair and defeat. Her arms and legs were spread and she sank back onto the soaking mattress, settling unwillingly into the warm slime.

Deep vibrations filled the air. They were the massive noises that the watchers made when they felt pleasure. The purring of the creatures in the dark. There were also sounds like muffled chuckling. So many different personalities. So many different eyes. Jen was glad she could not see them.

Things were sliding across the bed. Wet, slippery noises told that they were coming. The drips from above had increased in speed. They came from the ceiling, too. The new explorers were thinner than the restraints but just as strong and agile. They snaked across the bed and over her body. The same worms descended from above tickling her face and exposed skin before finding the shape of her. It felt like hundreds of them. They tasted, felt and saw her, memorising her body. They snaked around her limbs and over the curves of her body. The wormed into her t-shirt and began to explore it. She wanted to scream but the things on her face was slimily oozing over her lips. They were vile and nauseating but they were also tender and fascinated. Their gentleness and their caresses only made it worse.

The t-shirt seemed to anger them. They tugged at it and stretched it. They must have seen her undress before. Normally she slept naked. It was only tonight, feeling vulnerable, that she had slipped into this tatty old t-shirt. Their movements grew faster and more frustrated. They coiled around the openings of the t-shirt, heaving at them. Jen could feel the wet cloth pulled uncomfortably tight against her skin. Despite their strength, they had not ripped the cloth, not yet. They stiffened and held the t-shirt at it's limits. Then, as one, they abruptly moved apart from one another and the t-shirt seemed to explode into rags. There was a booming moan of delight and the bed shook with the little vibrations of fleshy things shivering. Each scrap of cloth was pulled out from under her and Jen felt more naked than she had ever been.

Jen sobbed in her throat but kept her mouth shut tight. The drops of fluid from above were regular now, coating her body and face. There was fluid on her lips and she did not dare open her mouth. She did not want to taste them. She tried opening and shutting her eyes but she still could see nothing. Her eyelids were getting gummed with the slimed. It did not sting against her eyeballs, not like semen. It was warm and thick. Almost soothing.

No. She would not enjoy any of this. She could not.

There was noise from above. There were strange gulping noises and popping sounds, as though wet seals were being broken. She remembered the sounds that a cock would make as it pulled out of her sucking mouth. There were noises that sounded like her fingers rubbing her wet clit. Other noises told her of cocks sliding into wet pussies.