Brazilian Bathroom Line

"Let's get you home, Ann!" said Marisol. "This can all be very overwhelming. Let's get you to a safe base to explore everything from." As nice as the words sounded, I could tell that she was very ashamed of me, but I trusted that she would fix me up to fit in.

She grabbed my hand and pulled me through the throngs of people, upstairs (nobody used escalators because nobody wanted to miss out on the butt-enhancing exercise of walking stairs), and down the subway ramp. I got a look from the high subway platform to see that we were on top of the mountain. Then the subway pulled in. We'd take the subway down the mountain to the city.

"Close your eyes," said Marisol. I closed my eyes. She pulled me forward. I made a big step to cross from the platform into the subway. I felt the cool mist on my skin. The subway doors had sunscreen misters to make sure that everyone got sunscreen re-applied. The cool tingle contrasted beautifully with the warm air. We sat down on the plastic seats. Because everyone bared so much skin, the seats had to be easy to clean. Plastic was the winning choice.

We settled on a two-by-two row of seats facing each other. The entire train car inside was covered with colorful bubbles. It felt like we were inside a sweet drink with carbon bubbles all around us. Outside the window was darkness. I took in the people on the subway. They were all wearing skimpy bathing suits. The calves caught my eyes. The heels of the women made the calve muscle bunch up into a strong oval shape that looked delicately perfect like a museums statue. Their fat percentage was so low that I could make out the thin line of soleus behind gastrocnemius. The tibialis anterior was clearly defined as a visible muscle running up the front of the lower leg. Their figures were svelte, delicate in the details, yet also seriously strong for good posture.

"We think you should pick a Latin American name right away. You want to hide your American background as best as you can," Marisol explained to me, the urgency in her voice clearly noticeable. Ramon nodded a little lethargic to suggest that he would never disagree with Marisol but had reservations about throwing too much, too fast at me. Ramon's chest was beautifully broad and deep from the massive pec muscles. His chest was smooth and shaved. In fact, the skin was so smooth that the light reflected a little bit on his chest.

"Ramon thought that you might like Andreia because it's close to your old name. But really!? Why not go big when you can pick any name. I think Fia would suit you great. There is this hot actress with that name. She's a dolphin trainer in her latest movie. Her swimmer body is to die for when she freedives with the dolphins. What shall it be?" asked Marisol, looking at me eagerly, leaning in. Ramon put his arms around Marisol to make her calm down a little bit. He seemed to know that she can get carried away.

The occasional light bulbs in the subway tunnel flashed by the window. I hadn't thought about giving up my name. It had always been there, so familiar that I didn't even notice. I was barely naked. I had left all my belongings at home. And there I was to give up my name as well. I felt like I was taken into a cult. In a way, a new culture is a bit of a cult. I was giving up big pieces of who I was. I felt pushed toward Fia from Marisol's intense emotions. I felt my vulnerability of depending on her and needing to please her. This was a rebirth. Should I have expected anything less?

"Can I see a photo of Fia?" I asked, stalling the answer and pleasing Marisol by showing interest.

"She doesn't have an implant yet," Marisol said to Ramon with question. I realized that they were talking about phones. In Brazil, the clunky rectangular boxes had been phased out in favor of implements. With no pockets to put phones, implants were much more convenient.

"She looks a bit like that woman," Ramon said, pointing halfway down the train car. There was a woman who looked more buff than the others. Her serratus anterior (the superhero muscle on the side of the torso) was extra bulging. Her six-pack was an extra large set of stones. Her hair was short, almost spiky - almost platinum blond. I suddenly got a sense that this was the blueprint of a woman that Marisol had in mind for me. The bodybuilder-type look would make it more feasible for me to get away with my fat layers until I burned them off. I also recognized the psychological undertones. Marisol was the younger sister. When she was in America, I had taken her to school and showed her how to do things. Now, she had an overeager drive to be in control of me. I realized that this was the bargain that I had struck. She must have pushed so hard and long for me to get my visa to Brazil that her reward of taking every bit of control of my integration phase, like a bridezilla does of a wedding, was my payment. I realized that she would be my overlord for a few months. By accepting her name choice, I'd also accept her to take the lead for me.

"That's amazing! Fia it is!" I called out and clapped my hands.

Marisol smiled. Then the left side of the train car lit up with bright sunlight. For a moment, the glare overpowered me. Then I could make out the glorious city. We were around the fiftieth story high. The panorama window allowed us to glance up at the skyscrapers but also far over the regular buildings, all the way to the ocean. Compared to the plane, I was close enough to see people walking in the street, not a single car in sight. Everyone used the subway and walked through the sunfilled streets. Beautiful plants grew in little sections embedded in the street. Wraparound sunglasses seemed to be the big fashion. They covered the face temple to temple with a dark or colorfully reflective shield. I'd be teeming among them soon. I worried about finding a job to be able to afford a living. The tunnel's darkness consumed as again as we descended underneath the city.

By the time we emerged from the labyrinth of subway tunnels, my mind was so flooded. I noticed the over head high plants in the plant section of the street. I hadn't seen life plants in person, let alone touched them, but Marisol kept dragging me on. We got to her apartment building. It was a seventy-story tall tower wrapped in blue glass that changed the hue of blue depending on how the breeze touched the glass. Ripples of shades of blue were running across the surface. As soon as we entered, I felt the luxury of the upholstery. The lobby space invited to recline on a couch and put the feet up on it. Soothing music played to create a sense of a lull, idyllic utopia.

What I assumed was the doorman was standing in front of the reception desk. He was a short, trim black man with hair so short that it appeared that someone had drizzled black pepper on his scalp. He wore a trim tube over his penis. The shaft was black and the tip was white - like the color combination of an elegant smoking. His face had a sweet smile and bored eyes from waiting a lot.

I tried to demonstrate my ability to adapt and strode faster toward him. He was half a head shorter than me. I took his jawbones into my hands like a chalice and guided his lips forward. I stuck my tongue in his mouth and swirled right. Our tongues met, and he proceeded with the right swirl as well. I couldn't help but leave my tongue lingering across the ridge of his teeth. Holding still, I focused on the taste: Cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice, and a creamy sweetness. This was a Christmas cookie flavor! How delightful! Childhood memories rushed back to me.

Marisol and Ramon tongue-kissed the doorman. The doorman smiled with appreciation, "I love the daughter-daughter combo of sharing the same mouth deodorant. So heart-warming!" He exuded a gayish triumph. Marisol blushed a little. Funny! Tongue kissing was nothing to her, but a little compliment and attention made her giddy under her skin.

When we entered the dining/living room area, the kitchen island was very sleek - a shiny smooth surface. The cabinet doors, countertops, walls, and floor were each of a different type of grey. Every surface was immaculate as if brand new. The couch didn't have any dips at all from people having sat on it. The upholstery was even as if it had just been delivered. I sensed that they didn't do any cooking. Through the blue tint of the window glass, I could see the balcony, which seemed to have a soaring view of the city.

"You must be tired," Marisol said, taking me by the hand to guide me to a room. The room was austere. There was a single box on the ground. I knew that it was an accordion box. If I'd pull the two front nobs apart, dozens of little compartments would fold out. With clothing being so skimpy, an entire wardrobe easily fit into a small space. And all the compartments allowed to organize it well. The lifestyle was very slimmed down with barely any clothing and all electronics being implants.

There was also a coffin-sized glass aquarium on the ground. There was no water in it, but Marisol swayed her hands in it as if there were and she was checking its temperature. I knew that it was hexafluoride. Brazilians slept in it. The heavy gas prevented the skin from drying out, but it also deprived bacteria and fungi of oxygen from growing. One would wake up with beautifully moist and soft skin.

"It's good. I got this for you," she said, satisfied. I knew that my tally of me thanking her grew.

She turned to face me, slipped the C-string off my pussy, and untied my bra behind my back. "I'll throw this out for you," she said holding up my bra. There I was split naked in a new country, completely at the mercy of my sister to be taken care off in every way. I knew that I had to oblige her and please her. She stored my C-string in the box. When the box folded open, I could see that Marisol had gotten me a few outfits.

Then she guided me to step into the aquarium-like bed. The hexaflouride immediately pressed against my ankles like a comforting squeeze. I sat down in it. She kneeled next to me and placed two breathing tubes into my nostril. There was a plug that made sure they'd be fixed in place and sealed. Then she guided me to lean back into the hexafluoride. I panicked a bit because I knew that I couldn't breathe in it without the tubes.

She tapped me on my neck with my index finger. I felt the small pinch that I knew was from a single dose injection of Honey. Honey was a sleep aid that Brazilians typically took. It was called Honey because it didn't send you into a deep sleep immediately. Your body fell immediately asleep. Yet your consciousness stayed awake for a while. It was more of a oozing into a sleep state - like honey flows down a spoon. I could still see Marisol looking me over while I appeared asleep to her. She was inspecting me. Worry showed on her face. There was a lot that I didn't know about her life and the person that she was. I might have felt panicked being naked and unable to move, but my emotions had already lowered down into a relaxed sleep state. I saw her backside walking out of the room before my consciousness disappeared.

I assumed that it was eight hours later because that's the typical duration of Honey. Also the outside was dark. I could see the moonlight shining in. Seeing the moon was magnificent. The white moon light tinted blue gave the apartment an otherworldly feel. I sat up and pulled the breathing tubes out of my nose. My skin felt soft and perfectly warm. I stepped out of the aquarium with the need to do something. I searched my way back to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

I found a glass and filled it from the faucet. I figured that they probably had taken Honey as well and couldn't hear me. I opened one cabinet. It was empty. I opened the next and found more emptiness. I searched the cabinets and drawers. I found only one drawer with dozens of one-time-use chopstick pairs. The fridge had a nutrition machine and nutrition cartridges. They probably stuck to the formula meals for nutrition. I felt the underside of the cabinet roofs for hidden things like something taped up there. There was nothing. Probably all their secrets were stored digitally.

Then I lifted the upholstery pieces to look underneath. There was a notice from the college where Marisol was teaching. "We sadly must inform you of the non-renewal of your contract. We've counseled you multiple times on how to lose belly fat, but you are not setting the right example for our students." All the classes were taught by digital personas these days. Because digital personas were easy to replicate, there were only five or so teachers needed for each subject. The competition to land these teaching spots was fierce, kind of like entertainers, the professors had to compete to get students to subscribe to their teaching persona. Even though her body looked amazing to me, apparently, she couldn't outdo the competition at the top. Perhaps, as I was feeling desperate to hang onto Marisol, she felt desperate to hang onto Ramon. Not being a natural-born Brazilian, she depended on Ramon's continued sponsorship. Rumors said that some men picked American women because they knew that they were pliant and not as precarious as the local Brazilian women. I could sense that whatever precariousness she felt, she would instill on me. It could be a psychological situation where everyone picks on the person one rung lower.

I heard grunting from the other bedroom. I put the notice back under the upholstery and carefully evened out the upholstery. I walked quietly. I crossed the lightfall from the balcony. My skin looked beautiful in the half-blue moonlight. The low light made the contours appear more softly. The grunting increased in intensity and sharpness.

As I turned to the entrance of my room, I could see that the other bedroom door was open. They probably didn't close any doors out of habit. In the half-light, I saw Ramon on all fours - the strong bulbous butt in the air and the V-shaped back resting on his arms. He railed Marisol underneath him. He was the one grunting. She faintly moaned under him. I couldn't avert my eyes fast enough before they latched onto his glistening hard cock diving into her pussy. He saw me and carefully put a finger across his lips to signal me to stay quiet. He didn't seem in a hurry to shoo me away or cover-up.

I hadn't seen any live sex back in America. Everyone was too depressed. The steady rhythm and tireless motion into Marisol's pussy and the contractions of his muscles, the dimples on his butt cheeks forming and disappearing had me in awe. Marisol seemed to be feeling real good. Ramon seemed to enjoy humping her like a beast. The scene was very peaceful. I wondered if my role had become that I turned on Ramon for me watching him. Worried, I disappeared into my room.

I stepped into the aquarium. The pressure on the skin of the hexafluoride was familiar to me now. I plugged the tubes back into my nose. There was a small box of Honey next to the aquarium. I opened it and picked up a Honey crystal with my index finger. The crystal was very sharp. I perched it on the skin in my neck and then pressed on it for the crystal to pierce through my skin. I softly glided onto my back as the honey soothed my physical body. I was still awake enough to hear the grunting stopping in the other room.

"Did you hear that?" asked Marisol. "I think her Honey dose wore off."

I heard bare-footed footsteps coming close. I couldn't move anymore. Marisol looked into my room and studied my face. I looked asleep to her, but I still saw her.

"She re-applied the Honey," said Marisol with the worry disappearing from her voice. She looked closer at my body and kneeled down next to the aquarium. "There is so much fat on her everywhere. I'm thinking of giving her temporary boobs first. And once we put her through a six-week training boot camp and can see her real body shape better, we'll pick the final boobs. I don't know. Do you think we can motivate her enough to build up calves? Or do we have to go for implants?"

Marisol had a devilish look on her face when she waved Ramon to come closer and look at me naked. She thought that she could give him the entertainment without me knowing. They were both studying my body with a relaxed demeanor, like they thought I couldn't see them because I was out already. A thought told me that as long as I was on Honey, I would be defenseless to whatever they did to my body. I realized that sometimes, Marisol might be gone while I was helpless and naked with Ramon alone. They both seemed to have secrets. Her vaginal secretion was still thick around the base of his shaft. That unobserved did they feel.

The second wakeup was more sudden. Bright, blue-tinted light flooded the room. The aquarium around me, with its glass walls still looked foreign. The bare bottom made of glass should have been hard and uncomfortable, but the heavy gas floated me up a bit. Marisol was already standing in the room, looking at me. She was wearing a white tube, the diameter of a small pinkie finger, which wrapped around her body, starting at the crotch, curving over her hip, winding over her belly twice and the third time right across her nipple. The lack of a traditional bikini shape made her body shape appear more nude. The fabric seemed elastic and firm, connotating a workout outfit. She reached her hand forward to help me up and out of the aquarium.

She led me out of the room into the hallways - myself still being nude. "He's at work," she assured me. We entered the bathroom. The bathroom was entirely empty and covered with ceramic tiles floor, walls, and ceiling. Each tile had a slightly different color. The gradient ran from white in one corner to baby blue in the opposite corner - very sleek and very clinical.

"Stand in the baby blue corner. Lift your arms and spread your legs. Squat slightly!" she instructed me.

A metallic telescope arm came through a hole in the wall. The autonomous moving pointy instrument approaching me scared me a bit, but Marisol assured me, "It's implant controlled. I'll do it for you until you get your own implant." A first, second, and third joint popped out of the wall as the metal arm entered the room fuller and fuller. It looked all over my body, a green dot running across my body everywhere. It was scanning and measuring my body.

With a sharp click, the laser pointer extended forward, a broad dime-sized nozzle appeared, and the laser pointer folded inward. I felt the air moving in the room. A sound half that of a storm and half that of a rainstick sounded with force. A pale stream of a cloud-like substance shot out of the nozzle and onto my skin. The feeling was of rubbing and grating with unexpected roughness. The stream canvased my body line after line. The intensity of the stream modulated based on my body part. When it got to my armpits, I started giggling and writhing. Marisol quickly grabbed my elbow to hold me in place. I still pivoted my butt from the giggly sensation. I wanted to call out, "You are hurting me!" But the pursed lips of Marisol told me that leeway was not acceptable in matters of beauty and that she forced herself through much harsher treatments. I tried to swallow my childish reaction the best I could, only an occasional giggle bursting out of my lips, especially when the thing blasted a stream of sand into my ass.

When Marisol held the soles of my feet up, I realized that the sand stream was exfoliating my skin. The nozzle repeatedly canvassed the soles of my feet, especially around the heel. Layer after layer of calluses was carved off. I touched my feet later, and they felt as soft as baby feet. Marisol evaluated the work by caressing my body. I was naked in front of her. I felt like I was her pet dog or something that she was grooming.

Next, the head of the metal arm switched out the sand nozzle for a disc with lots of little holes. Marisol stepped away to distance herself as far as she could. The metal arm started rotating around me and shot a water stream from a dozen pin-needle-sized jets at me. Each jet was sharp as if it could blast off any stuck-on dirt. It hurt my nipples. It mercilessly blasted on my clit and tender inner labia. When it reached my butthole, it pulsated so hard as to press some water insight of me. I gulped big. I tried to scream at the invasion, but the competing gulp made me swallow the scream. Marisol had an evil grin, like she was enjoying it, like this was some kind of payback for all the beauty treatments that she had gone through. "Suffer like me!" that grin said. And I realized that every motion the machine did was something that Marisol controlled it to do.