Brazilian Bathroom Line

A long beep held steady. Suddenly, a bang happened. All the downward pressure was gone in an instant. I was back at the normal 1 gravity, but the gravity was pushing me back instead of down. The sudden disappearance of the down pressure made everything come up. I felt like puking. My entire belly wanted to come up. I was shaking from the revulsions in my belly. And then I felt free. The plane slowly leveled out from shooting up straight into the sky to a more gentle upward trajectory.

The jumpsuits deflated. The contractor guy next to me immediately fought out of his jumpsuit. The CEO daughter next to me didn't move. She was in the catatonic state of Ocean. I peeled myself out of the white jumpsuit. A stewardess came by with a cart to collect the jumpsuits. She told the CEO daughter to stand up and instructed her how to undress. Then she told the CEO daughter to sit down again. My big moment was coming!

I figured that it would be easier to get out on the side of the CEO daughter than to deal with the rambunctious guy. "Stand up," I told her. She never looked at me. She stood up. "Step into the aisle," I told her. She stepped into the aisle. "Sit back down," I finished. She sat back down. It's strange being in command of another human being. I could have told her to do anything. I walked to the lavatory.

It was crammed, but it was a nice lavatory. It was clean. It had excellent features. I took the bikini set out of my purse. I looked it over. This was going to be very revealing. I had to be daring. I was on a trip to Brazil. They would all be walking around basically naked. I had to get started. I took my clothes off, which was awkward in the narrow lavatory. Then I stood there nude and barefoot. There was a full-length mirror. I looked at myself naked. I saw all of my hard work secretly working out, but I didn't look like a Brazilian. I didn't have those amazing and perfect lines of my ab muscles running over my belly. Also, I had a giant bush under my armpits and on my sex.

Marisol had explained to me that there was a Spider in the cabinet under the sink. I got it out. It was a bundle of shiny metal poles. I folded them apart. With the poles spread out, it looked a bit like a spider. I looked for the outline of a foot on top of the toilet cover. I placed my left foot there. I looked for another outline of a foot on the floor, which is where I put my right foot. I was sideways in the lavatory now in a kind of half squat with my legs spread apart so that my pussy was facing down.

I placed the Spider over my groin. I planted the legs against my butt cheeks, belly, and thighs. Once the Spider felt my skin on all poles, it turned on and became alive. Little suction pumps at the tip of the legs created a vacuum to affix itself to my body. A little head swirled out of the center point of the poles. The head looked around my pussy. It felt strange having the thing hang onto me. I was so used to having on and off buttons, but these Brazilian robots simply did everything automatically. There were no controls at all.

Such a delicate feeling to surrender my pussy to a robot! The Spider started hissing very thick foam at my pussy to lay down an even blanket. Then the head started spinning fast, almost to the point of sounding like a dental drill. The head was pretty tiny, but it started moving in lines across my pubic hair and trimmed it down. The super sharp blades felt like a little tingle as they rotated hundreds of times per second over my skin. The precision of the shave was amazing. The aftercare was a slow sweep of blue light that caused ozone to sterilize the shave. I could smell the ozone in my mouth. I was so bald and smooth down there. Amazing!

I placed my hands on the outlines of hands above the sink mirror. The Spider released the suction on one of the legs, moved the leg higher on my body, and stalked towards my left armpit. It was such a strange tingle to have the Spider crawl over my body. It gave me shivers up and down my spine. It repeated the procedure on my armpits.

At that point, I thought it was done, but it crawled all over my body to find little hairs on my lower back. It even found some on my big toe. Nothing escaped the Spider. It was sensual and tingly to have the thing crawl all over me. I felt a little offended when it waxed the skin above my upper lip.

The wax application was quite sensual. The belly of the Spider had a cylinder about the size and shape of the tip of an ancient AA battery. The center of it shot a red laser dot onto my skin. The dot crawled across my skin with a measured but swift cadence, laying down one line after the next. The targeting dot guided hot, sticky, melted wax shooting out of the mini-cannon. The wax was so hot that it burned painfully. Yet, the stream was so narrow that it cooled before I could raise the corners of my mouth in a flinch. I felt my stomach growling from discomfort. The desire to pull away fought against the need to keep my hands and feet still on the outlines. Icky and pointy, the alien machine held onto my body until the whole waxing area was filled in with a perfectly even layer of blue wax. Then it shot a string across the blue wax. A second layer of less sticky but harder green wax followed on top.

A dominant female robot voice warned me: "Não se mexa!" Marisol had told me to heed this warning to not move seriously. The Spider spun up the spring to rip the wax string. The sound grew ever more intense as the spring reached maximum tension. The little suction cups of the Spider's legs hissed more and more intensely as the Spider clung harder and harder to me. Panic started coming up. I focused on my hands and feet to press them in place. When the sound volume and pitch had risen to where the little motors seemed to burst, a hammer seemed to hit something hard. A sharp whip-like sound broke, and intense pain shot from my skin like my skin had been pulled off my flesh, but only for a microsecond. My yelp of pain stopped quickly. My heart still pounding, the Spider crawled to the next spot of hair on my body. "Não há beleza sem sofrimento!" the Spider informed me. ("No beauty without suffering." - the Brazilian national motto)

I felt gooey in my legs by the time the Spider was done. I slipped on the bikini. I felt like I was pulling on a uniform and making a declaration that I had converted from backwater American ideology to the Brazilian ideology. My former peers, the Americans on the plane could judge me. I was appealing to the Brazilians to accept me as a peer. Everyone on the plane would see me. I looked at me in the mirror. My vulva lips and nipples were vaguely visible. I was bearing myself after wearing big coats and oversized sweaters for years.

Walking out into the aisle, nobody took notice of me. Some people stared dead straight ahead on Ocean. Others were busy watching videos on their devices. Marisol had told me to walk to the back of the plane and ask for a water. Not that I needed the water, but it would give me a chance to look out of the big window of the plane door. The view was mesmerizing. The plane was already descending and still high up on its arched trajectory. The curve of the planet was visible. The blue sky was only a layer around the planet. The black of space was visible. I saw the flames shooting up from the wings. The rapid speed of re-entry created so much friction that flames lit up on the wings. Yet because of the rapid-fire, the flickers were very short and pulled away at high speed.

The stewardess in the galley offered me ice cubes, implying that I was a wannabe Brazilian. The bikini didn't fool her. I felt offended at the arrogance that she displayed toward me, but I knew that I had to earn my place with many hard workouts and get my hands on sexier outfits as soon as I landed in Brazil. The first phase of immigration would be brutal with all the discrimination that I would face until I fit in.

The door to first class opened for a moment as a male steward grabbed a tray of cold eucalyptus-infused sweat towels out of the fridge. The first class was one entire room with a sprung hardwood floor and not a single seat. Everyone was on their hands, doing mountain climbers. Their butts bounced in the air. Puddles of sweat were under them. The trainer wore a utility belt with a cattle prod, bullwhip, and taser. With the bullwhip, she snapped onto the hands of a woman far away, who let her hand stance open up too much as a correction. The taser, she held under the chest of a guy with white lightning jumping between the cathodes. The guy was fighting with a strained face and closed eyes against sagging down. The trainer eagerly wanted the guy to drop an inch lower to tase him full force. She was like a tiger held back by bars daring her victim to take one step closer so she could swat her mighty paw at him and dig her claws in. Continuous training was a major selling point for upgrading to first class. The Brazilian mindset was focused on looking good above all.

I walked back toward my seat. As I kept looking out of the small windows that I passed, the black space sky slowly turned bluer as we re-entered the atmosphere. The CEO daughter was still sitting with a placid face and her gaze straight ahead. I ordered her, "Stand up!" Compliantly, she stood up. Her right bra caught on something at the seat, and her right nipple popped out. What was I going to do? Everyone would hear me if I told her to cover up. If I didn't say anything, I would leave her exposed.

Okay, I pulled my nerves together and told her in a low voice, "Pull her left bikini side up." Like a catatonic, she moved matter of fact. There was no hint of embarrassment. Yet, she pulled up her left bikini side. Now, both nipples were hanging out in the air. I was shocked. I realized that my right was her left. Out of panic, I grabbed her bikini top to pull it back in place. She let me fondle her while looking placidly ahead. I got her covered up. I carefully tugged the fabric in place to fully cover her apple-round boobs.

When I thought that I had done a great job of giving her her dignity back, the stewardess appeared and rolled her eyes at me. The stewardess pulled the CEO daughter's bikini top all the way down until the top hem lined up with her areola. The stewardess felt comfortable moving the bra around while the CEO daughter stood with her arms hanging at the side. Unhappy with the result, the stewardess folded the bikini top over itself so that it was only half as wide. Now with the top aligned to the top of the areolas, there was plenty of underboob revealed. The stewardess smiled, satisfied, and said, "Step out!"

I quickly slipped past the CEO daughter into my seat. My cheeks were flush red. I felt so embarrassed. Nobody seemed to flinch. Marisol had warned me about the culture shock coming out of a prude society like America. I kept to myself. I felt anguish at all the discomfort ahead and hopeful for a better life.

"This is your captain Pedro. We've reached 3,000-meter in altitude. The wings are adjusted for glide mode. Touch down will be in about ten minutes," announced the pilot.

I could see a window from a few seats over. The air was so clear that everything was not only visible but glowed with magnificent colors. If you've lived in winter, you know that colors get a bit drab. After living under the glob for years, everything seemed pale and grayish. The green from the canopy of the re-forested continent sparkled. The yellow of the sandy beaches was a bright ribbon. Simply to marvel at the colors made the trip already worth it.

"Whoa! I'm back! Oh, that wasn't like that before!" the CEO daughter snapped out of her Ocean stupor instantly. The air ventilation had injected the antidote into the cabin. The CEO daughter looked down at her chest. "I like it!"

I felt obliged to confess my indiscretion. "I had an accident with your top when I went to the lavatory. I'm sorry!"

"Don't tell me that you stained it with a drink! These were hard to come by!" she exclaimed upset!

"No, no, I only exposed you to the whole cabin," I quickly defended.

"Ah, that's no big deal! It happens all the time with this itsy bitsy clothing. You mustn't ever have been to Brazil," she said with a warm and consoling tone. Her face perched a smile like she felt entertained by imagining me struggling like Bambi with the cultural immersion.

She noticed that I felt daunted to talk back to her because she seemed so comfortable slipping between the two countries. So she talked to calm me down. "Call me Thea. My first trip to Brazil was my eighteen's birthday gift from my dad. I had been depressed like many people living under the blob. I locked myself into my hotel room. I closed the blinds and refused to come out for the first couple of days. Occasionally, I glanced down at the beach directly beneath the hotel: blue water, white wave crescents, and yellow sand. Bronze god-like bodies ran along the shore break. Quadruples jumped and ran for the ball on a volleyball court as if they were energizer bunnies. Groups of friends jumped and screamed in the crashing waves. I felt very excluded. I felt very scared about all the skin revealed. Everything seemed foreign and dangerous."

"In the afternoon of the second day, my aunt sent me a message. She asked me to take a photo of myself with the famous dog statue catching a frisbee at the beach. Mind you, she has a terminal skin disease from the lack of sunlight. It's hard to turn her down. So I covered myself up. I got scared of standing out. I slipped into a bikini set. I got scared of revealing my skin to people's stares. Eventually, I decided to wear dark sunglasses and dart out to the statue. I covered my frontal as best as I could with my hands."

"I darted out there. I found my way through the hotel and out of the giant beachside lobby. The dog statue was only fifteen minutes away. I was so scared that I tried not to look at anybody. The dog was as large as a plane. I quickly snapped a selfie and hurried back."

"When I calmed down in my room, I realized nothing had happened. Nobody had paid any attention to me. Nobody had talked to me. I figured out how to find my way. I now knew what the beachside hotel entrance looked like. I replayed the mental snapshots of what I had seen. There was a lot of skin, skin everywhere, skin haunting me! In the calm of the room, I felt a little curious to take a look next time, find out what it really looks like."

"The next day, my aunt messaged me again. This time, she wanted an autograph from a famous singer, who was reported to be in the hotel bar. It was a swanky, musical kind of hotel bar with velvet floor, walls, and ceiling. Everything invited to brush the skin against, but the velvet was also worn from all the people rubbing themselves against it. A kind of old-world feel was to the bar. Simply down to the bar didn't seem too bad, but I'd be venturing into a place where people of my age were hanging out. They were much more likely to talk to me."

"I donned the same bikini set again and big sunglasses. I felt familiar with the elevator buttons by now. I stared ahead in the elevator. It was a big hotel with lots of people shuffling in and out. The bar was at the end of a long hallway that led to a side wing of the hotel to isolate the noise of the party from the rooms. A line of people snaked away from the singer. He sat behind a round table that he used like a desk - cowboy hat on and fringes hanging from the swimsuit that was really only a tube for his penis. I stepped behind the last person in line."

"They were all around my age. I got looks. I looked away. I dodged all the looks. I was scared to invite them to talk to me. 'For my aunt Grimalda,' I told the singer. He signed. 'First time in Brazil,' he smiled at me. I looked away and quickly hurried out of the bar."

"As I weaseled down the long hallway, a boy about a year older than me came towards me. I still remember the words, 'Your boobs are very lovely.' I blushed. I got scared. Why was he looking at my boobs? How could he dare talk about them? I tried to cover up. I told him, 'Don't look at them!' He complained, 'But it hurts my eyes to look away!' When I turned to face the wall to hide, he started crying out like he was in pain. Everything was so foreign that I was so gullible that I thought anything was better. I turned my boobs to him again. He smiled warmly. I had never had a boy smile at me like that. My toes tingled. It was the most surprising sensation."

"I tore myself away, ran up to my room, and locked the door. My heart was pounding. I had never seen a guy behave toward me like that. I never had feelings of warmth, tingles, and levity rush through my body. Those brown eyes, I kept recalling them in my mind over and over."

"The next day, my aunt sent me on another hunt for a piece of memorabilia. I walked slower in the hotel. I hoped to see him or for him to see me. I had an unhealthy urge like eating another piece of chocolate when you shouldn't. I wandered down that long corridor towards the velvet bar. He was sitting at a table near the entrance. I stood at the entrance facing away from him. He quickly came up behind me and softly spoke from behind me over my shoulder. 'I'm so happy to see you again. I wouldn't be able to live if I couldn't find out your name?'"

"Nobody had said such words to me. I turned to face him. His eyes roamed over my face, my neck, and my body. He admired every part of me. He let me watch him admiring me. I saw the smile widening, the cheeks rounding, and the glimmer in his eyes shimmering as he discovered my beauty. My toes started tingling again. That's what I had come for, to feel those warm tingles!"

"'You don't dislike my attention,' he said. 'You are simply shy!' He was investigating me. He pondered me. He shot me glances with those brown, kind eyes to see how I'd react. Then he took my left hand. I thought he wanted to shake my hand. It seemed like a strange, foreign Brazilian handshake. I let it happen, but it wasn't a handshake at all. He pulled me forward. I followed him. He grabbed my other hand. I started to stumble. He pulled me a step left. He was guiding me to walk. Then it hit me: He was moving me with the music that was playing. The sensation of moving my body with music was so strange. An entire world of foreign feelings opened up. 'This is zouk,' he told me. 'Your America used to be at the forefront of dancing with Rock'n'Roll until you made dancing illegal.'"

"Dancing feels a bit like you are in the clouds. Your body sends so many emotions into your limbs. He'd catch me, lift me up, send me running away, hold me close, only to let me slip around his body for me to hold him. When the song ended, my heart was beating hard. Heavy breath came out of my nostrils. He held me so close that my body was pressed against his and my lips hovered before his lips. I thought he was going to kiss me. I felt the moment come, but he only held me right there in the state of yearning for him to take me."

"Raphi is his name. The Brazilian boys do so much! Would you believe that he feeds me! He feeds me with his fingers! He writes poems about me. He makes me feel like a goddess! I can't wait to be reunited with him."

Thea had such delicate facial and clearly defined features. They made her emotions jump out clearly as she told the story. The sorrow, the fear, the surprise, and the endearment, they all came alive telling the story. I could picture everything sun-basked by the Brazilian sun. I could feel her excitement for Raphi as her voice got more and more high-pitched, like a girlie girl working herself towards a fit. Overall, the carefreeness of her rich life was very evident, as she easily moved from point to point and comfortably laid out her life to a stranger (me). Vignettes like these spurned my imagination on what to expect when I would step off the plane.