Athenium Ch. 02

"I'm not sure," She says, making me dizzy the contrast of cool lips and hot breath across my neck, "How I should feel about you, deceiver."

Athenium reaches beneath my clothes, filling the inside of them until they all burst, leaving me stark naked in the pit once again. As she closes over my head, I open my mouth, prepared to accept her into me yet again. She'll play with everything in me, I know. No point in fighting, she has maneuvered me into a position where she has all of the control.

She exercises it now. The goo stays out of my mouth, and I quickly use up what little air came with me when I was dragged under. I gasp, pulling her suffocating mass over my nostrils and beginning to panic as my chest heaves.

"On one hand...how can you trust someone who lies to you? It really is unbecoming of an ambassador," She mocks me in a sultry, teasing voice. I cannot even beg her to save my life. I writhe involuntarily, the panic now in a feedback loop: the more I move, the more I panic about being trapped, the more the goo constricts me, the more I try to move.

"But on the other...I do love a good mystery. And...I guess I can't really see what else you're capable of if you're dead."

The goo shoots into my open mouth, down my throat, down my nostrils, into my lungs, my stomach, into my bloodstream to do god-knows-what. I'm grateful, in spite of myself, and I hate that I'm grateful. If I were a stronger man, I would have just told her to kill me.

"I've had some time to think, negotiator, about a lot of things. Why they keep sending you. Why the prisoners are so fearful. Why you...are so delectable," She says. I feel a current of cool, almost cold goo flow over me as I am laid onto my back. She raises my arms above my head, spreading my fingers wide and flowing through them as she toys with each one, squeezing gently and playfully stretching each one the slightest bit.

My mind is a swirl of confusion. She has not been clear about her intentions: maybe she'll choke me to death, maybe she'll see how quickly she can fuck me into dehydration, but the movements of her body and her indescribable taste - the honeyed tea now flavored with an additive I've never experienced - indicate something more...scheming.

The redhead runs warm, petite fingers across my bare chest, gently pinching a nipple, then digging her fingers ever so slightly into my ribs. The confining ooze pushes into me from all sides, warm and soft, like a thickly-blanketed bed on a cold winter day, and when I try to move, it moves with me. She is so many sensations at once: a million tiny, hive-minded lovers, a woman of incomparable grace and insatiable hunger, and an ocean of smooth, squeezing sexual intent made manifest.

"It took me some time to figure out, but...you feel many things at once. Something all of your kind is capable of but..."

Marco is already in the throes of thrall to her. She has him arched backwards, and she is sucking him dry. He is suckling at his gag like an infant at his mother's tit, whimpering and moaning and shaking, tensing every muscle in his body just to remind himself that escape is impossible. She rewards him with a playful squeeze that asphyxiates him just to the brink of passing out, simulating for him an Amazon Aphrodite that is too enthralled with her beloved to release him from her suffocating flesh. The primal need to fuck and to fucking breathe strip him of all conscious thought.

"...rarely used, of your own accord anyways. If this sample size is any indication."

"And yet-" I am about to point out her own indulgence in simple, enflamed lust, but these are the only words she lets me speak; my feigned indignant pride disappears with my ability to talk. She's not done yet.

"Don't misunderstand," She interrupts, "Beings of pure lust, like this one, are...delightful."

Her goo oozes over Marco in semi-solid bubbles, attending to every inch of skin in the most pleasurable ways. It lets him feel human again. It draws attention to everything it is touching, overwhelming his brain with more sensation than it can process. His feet are squeezed and released rhythmically, removing every ache and pain. The goo massages his scalp and thickens in a band around his throat like a straddling lover putting just the right amount of pressure on it, making him lightheaded and filling him with adrenaline. His his calfs and thighs are caressed like they are wearing a pair of living pants that are one size too tight. His shoulders are kneaded while the goo swirls around his nipples, playing with them, pinching them, licking them. She pushes on his ass, clutching him close, driving him to buck harder, thrust faster, to fuck her deeper and more frantically, though he cannot move a millimeter.

"Fantasies are primal. They're honest, and they're unfettered. But they leave little to the imagination."

The redhead speaking the words appears before me in an elegant, but revealing hunter green dress. It's a size too small, and her tits are threatening to burst out from every angle. She's someone from my past, but her name...or any other detail about her, they elude me.

"But pure emotions," with one hand, she effortlessly shoves me onto a gaudy bed conjured from a Hustler video, "Are like candies."

She slips the straps of the dress over her shoulders and slowly guides it to the floor with one finger, releasing it as it passes her hourglass waist. She crawls onto the bed, her eyes locked onto me, lips morphing into a devious grin as she tastes her way up my body: thigh, stomach, nipple, neck.

"And candies...welllll, they're good for a high. But no one makes a meal of candy," she says. She is atop me, running her fingers down my neck, and I can no longer tell the difference between her lust and hunger.

"I am to be a meal, then?" I gulp. She does not answer except to let her hair brush over my face as she nibbles my ear.

"The truth is pure, simple, sweet. Lies...they beckon further...experimentation."

She grasps my chin in a petite but strong hand, swiftly pulling me to meet her eyes. I can feel those bewitching, unnaturally dark green eyes peering into my soul. She's wild and exotic in a way that I never knew was possible, and it's becoming more difficult not to throw myself into her. She kisses me, slowly, strongly, breathing deeply, gripping into my flesh...then pushes me onto my back.

She's letting me stare at her. I have no choice, but her eyes and that mischevious smile ask: "don't you WANT to stare?"

This is not the same woman that tried to seduce me the last time, I realized. She has grown more intelligent, more discerning...or maybe she was overplaying her primal desire the last time she had me in her clutches. I cannot decide which is more frightening.

"Something I've come to understand, negotiator," she pinches my nipple, and I breathe heavily through the pain, "Sometimes, when you experiment, you're not looking for answers. You're looking for the right questions."

She lets the fantasy fade, and I'm in pitch black again, back in my own mind, or as near to it as I remember.

"You can't keep humans, Athenium," I protest. I am at a loss for any other words, afraid to even try to outplay her now.

"Of course I can," She says. She caresses Marco's face, and he hums a sigh into his lifegiving goo. "I'll be keeping him, for instance. After he heard about the way you took advantage of my kindness...well...he never wants to see the surface again."

She shifts him, reclining him halfway to horizontal. She moves him through the goo at a languid pace, thrusting him back and forth as she undulates around him. The feeling of him penetrating her is mutually intoxicating.

"He knows what I am. Loves what I am. In time, he won't remember a surface world. His whole existence will be an endless orgasm, cumming and fucking and CUMMING and FUCKING until the universe dies. In a way...he has you to thank for that."

Marco's attempted thrusting reaches a fever pitch. I hear him moaning loudly into his gag, brought to a lustful frenzy that is audible through the thick slime.

"And besides...aren't you forgetting about, oh, 22 others? You didn't seem so protective of them." My pulse quickens. She laughs wickedly; I know she's enjoying my confusion.

"But it seems...we are missing half of our control group," She says. My utter bewilderment lasts only for a moment.

A harem of women...no, a legion of them, thousands, millions now encircle me. Every color, every body shape, every height, all without a shred of clothing. The one directly in front of me - my temptress of flaming hair - closes her eyes and touches her labia lewdly. She moans, biting her lower lip. To her left, her right, everywhere around her, they are all pleasuring themselves. A deafening chorus of moans fills the air.

The redhead opens her eyes. She brushes over her naked form with her left hand, and without warning, rushes toward me.

The rest of the legion does the same, and I am suddenly overrun, crushed beneath the female half of the human race. I cannot breathe. An impossible battery is imposed on me as a myriad of tits and asses press me to the ground as they rub across my face; every breath seals my nose with flesh, pulls someone's genitals into my mouth. They grab me all over, tugging my cock, squeezing my ass, pinching my nipples and biting my neck, arousing me, shocking me, hurting me, experimenting with me. The more I struggle to rise to the surface of this sea of sex, the more frenzied the assault becomes. The moans grow louder and louder, until all that I can hear is one cacophonous moan of pleasure, demanding more, always more.

And then they are gone.

It is a relief to be back in the gooey prison. As soon as I catch my breath, I am struck with dread at a sudden realization.

"You...want a woman. You want me to bring you a woman."

I swear that I can hear her purr with satisfaction.

"Good boy," She says. Her voice is thick and luxurious.

"No. No, I...I can't..." I protest.

"You will."

"I don't...you...you can't..."

The redhead straddles my stomach and grabs my arms by the wrists, pinning them above my head. She pulls them with her as she slowly brushes her breasts across my face, returning to an upright position. She eyes me with mischief, leaning in for a kiss. Here, in her world, she makes me return the affection, at once showing me the bliss of a world where I belong to her, and how pointless it is try to resist her. She controls everything under her surface, and my mind is no exception.

She breaks off the kiss, staring into my eyes. There is a wild passion in those dark green eyes that hypnotizes, but she lets my thoughts remain my own. There is a promise there, a command, a curse: I'll do what she asks. I'll bring her the whole world if she asks.

I am stunned to speechlessness. She closes her eyes and laughs, and I wonder just how many of my thoughts are still my own.

******

I open my eyes, and I am in the same infirmary bed that Marco once occupied. I do not know how long I have been free; I am clothed, and I am surrounded by no fewer than a dozen of my fellow scientists, questions in their eyes.

And Athenium's low, mocking laughter, echoing in my head, tells me that I may never be free again.