Dionaea

There she was. So pretty! She couldn't see herself in the dark, but she knew she was beautiful. When the urges hit, she bent down, tidied up the spot she was standing in, and continued on; with each completed task another new wave of bliss washed over her, reminding her that she was doing a wonderful job. White, shining stars reflected in the inky nothing that was everything. No one, especially her, really needed perfect sight to see the task at hand, after all!

"The task at hand". That echoed around in her head, for a bit. The task at hand. At... hand. Your hands. Eliza, your hands.

With a jolt and a painful gasp of air Eliza shot up from the floor. Her body was slick with sweat, a deep imprint of her body pressed into the fluffy carpet of Geôlière's chamber. The sun had gone down and only the scarcely-adequate moonlight remained to bounce against the reflective white stone. Everything was so... pale. Wherever the light hit, color seemed to... dissolve. Whitewashed. Turned into nothing. Panicked, Eliza looked down at her tattoed arms.

She saw her own reflection looking back at her, warped by the black sludge that now crawled up her entire arms.

Oh, God.

Hurriedly Eliza ripped her shirt off and threw it aside, scrambling to her feet and nearly falling as she searched for a surface to look at herself in.

The walls were more reflective under the sterile white light of the moon, giving Eliza exactly what she sought and so deeply feared: the black substance had spread much, much further than her hands. It crept up her arms and onto her shoulders, snaking down her chest, over her breasts, across her toned abdomen. Where once she had colorful tattoos of flowers, snakes, and annoying pop culture references from when she was young and stupid, now she found nothing - black, reflective, rubbery nothing.

Pained gasps turned into frightened moans. Almost like an animal, she began scratching and clawing at the stuff with her nails, desperate to pry it off - and found it pained her just as badly as if it were her own flesh. Tugging at it produced no slack, no space between whatever it was and her real body beneath. Her heart throbbed, and with it, so too throbbed the black, root-like tendrils that slithered across her pale skin, emanating from the splotchy, inky void that was her new skin.

There was a moment of stillness punctuated only by the ticking of the analog clock, hanging on the bedroom wall - 9:42.

Eliza's grimacing face turned to a scowl.

Fuck the paycheck.

Eliza grabbed her shirt and tucked it into her waistband. Modesty could wait for now; whatever was happening to her body couldn't. Frightfully, she dashed for the bedroom door, her eyes wide to let in more of the dim moonlight. Her hands had some difficulty gripping the doorknob, squeaking and sliding without much friction, but eventually she heard the bolt click and threw it open into the halls.

Instantly, she heard a body fall to the ground and a glass object shattering, followed by a hollow, metal clanging. Peeking around the door, she found one of the maids, fallen on her back and covered with a splash of the black liquid she was carrying on one of the trays. Looking up, she saw several others - all identical, all carrying the same bottles of fluid. They simply stared at her, but now, their usually-uninterested looks seemed distinctly frightened and confused. She'd interrupted them - Geôlière had told her not to be up past 9! Whatever it was they were doing, they were expecting privacy.

Eliza wasted no time in exploiting their confusion. After flashing both her middle fingers at the hallway of maids, she darted to the stairwell, forcing her way past countless others, her half-nude body brushing against their strangely-textured dress uniforms and shoving their soft bodies away.

The closer she got to the foyer and her chance of escape, the more the maids seemed to crowd her path. How did they know where she was going? Without speaking a word to one another they coordinated effortlessly, standing around corners and crowding hallways mere seconds after Eliza had even considered taking those routes; yet even as they halted her movement, none made an effort to stop her. No grabbing, no bodyblocking, no tripping - they all seemed reluctant to touch her at all.

Yet each maid she brushed against made the blackened fog in her head return. Inch by inch, it once again clouded her mind. She was second-guessing herself. Maybe this was an overreaction? They... they weren't hurting her. They were just scaring her! She had no right to be so... so... aggressive! So bitchy and loud! Madame Geôlière would help her. She would be happy to help her! Each word of those foreign thoughts Eliza considered seemed to make the maids smile. Wider and wider. Their eyes were reflective in the light the same way the black sludge on her limbs was.

They could get fucked. For all Eliza cared they could be as creepy as they wanted, so long as her freedom was right around the corner. Even if she had to go without her skateboard and her boots, so be it. She could call a fucking Uber with the last of her money, and the maids would still be trapped in there. Back with Madame Geôlière and her luscious, unreal body. So welcoming...

Get it out of your head! Eliza sobbed angrily through gritted teeth. Her body was slick with sweat that ran down the blackened, reflective portions of her skin in tiny droplets, getting all over the immaculate floors as she ran. Why was she dirtying them? Why wasn't she clean? The maids were so clean, so prim and proper! They weren't ruining the Madame's beautiful home - but Eliza was! It only made her more angry, more scared, more intent on leaving and getting the fuck home as soon as she could!

Elia rounded a corner and saw that one of the paintings on the wall was ajar.

She let her mind slip for a moment and barreled right into the plush body of Madame Geôlière.

Everything - Eliza especially - came to a roaring, screeching halt, silenced by soft curves and a foreboding shush.

"You've been busy, mon chérie." Geôlière said, wrapping a hand around Eliza's neck and preventing her from moving away. Each and every last nerve ending in Eliza's panicked body lit up and screamed - at her, at Geôlière, at the maids, at the stupid fucking manor she was trapped in. "The maids tell me you've been... naughty."

Why did Geôlière's voice make her shiver so bad? Coupled with her glove-wrapped hands, bound in such soft latex, gripping so tightly around her throat... It was almost too much to bear. The pounding, blood-curdling fear kept her mind sharp and her tongue sharper, but even they were beginning to be softened into nothing by the Madame's soothing words.

"F-fuck you. I'm out of here, you crazy bitch." Eliza hissed, extending a feeble arm and shoving against Geôlière's abdomen to escape. Pushing, she found that all she could muster was a gentle pressure against the taller, dominant woman. She... she'd try again. Fuck this. She'd try again and again until she was out the front door!

Geôlière merely combed her gloved fingers through Eliza's hair.

"Are you giving me a massage? So eager to begin your training! My, you even stayed up past your bedtime just to see me again." the taller woman cooed. Hearing how she said "training" rocked Eliza to her core. She... she was done here. She was going to fucking walk home, barefoot, in the dark. Her mind was made up.

But why did her body ache to stay?

The black-covered portions of her body tingled as Geôlière touched them. Something about her fingers, her beautiful gloves, activated something deep and primal in her. She... she had to stay. No, what? No, she fucking didn't! She... she had work... to do.

That painting was still crooked. The Madame stepped in front of Eliza's transfixed gaze, staring into her.

"I'm sure you've noticed my maids'... unusual dress, by now," Geôlière began, brushing Eliza's chin with her long fingers as she began strolling around her in long, languid circles. "But don't you love it, mon plus cherie? How it clings to you?"

Geôlière ran her gloved hands across Eliza's pale chest, toying with her breasts for a moment. She gasped, sharply, in response, feeling the Madame's fingers pinching her nipples one by one; they stayed for just long enough for her to savor their presence, leaving as soon as Geôlière knew she would miss the sensation. A hiss forced its way between Eliza's grit teeth.

"F-ffuck... off."

The Madame said nothing in response, only gracing her profanity with a bemused hum. Just then, she ran her hand across Eliza's chest once more - but this time, when she pulled her fingers away, the black substance had spread across her skin, tracing the movements of Geôlière's hand.

It burned.

Immediately Eliza fell to the floor, landing on her ass and pushing away from Geôlière. She clawed uselessly at the substance with her black-stained hands, simply spreading it even further with each movement. It was crawling, moving, shifting like melting ice, solidifying over every inch of her skin whenever she moved. Her immediate thought was to fall limp, but her animalistic instincts rejected such a notion; to stop moving was to give Geôlière exactly what she and her fucking maids wanted! She... this was a trick! It was all a plot to keep her here, trapped in this Godforsaken manor!

Eliza tried to speak, but words felt empty. Hollow. Nothing could articulate the swirling maelstrom of hate and arousal that she was feeling; nothing could come even close to it. She looked deep into the Madame's abyssal eyes and saw only the same inky, reflective black that now ate away at her humanity. Her horrified face turned to an angry, violent grimace - so consumed by her hatred, she didn't notice the approaching maids who pinned her down and stretched her limbs until it was far, far too late.

She yelped, prompting a taunting laugh from Geôlière.

"Poor girl," the Madame said, clicking her tongue. She ran a single gloved finger across Eliza's cheek, savoring the terrified squeaks she made as she felt a slender streak of black stretch across her face. "Little minds tend to be rather... incapable, when it comes to this lovely material."

The maids holding Eliza's arms stared at her with their blank, expressionless eyes. "It digs its way into every fiber of your anatomy, turning you into such a lovely piece of art! Don't you think so, mon femmes de ménage?" Geôlière asked.

They smiled.

"Très bon. You see, mon cherie? There's nothing in there. They desire so little, never bothering me and always so faithfully keeping my home tidy. You, on the other hand..."

"Fuck you! Fuck you!" Eliza spat, thrashing against the maids holding her down.

"Y-... I'm not fucking like this, you f -"

Eliza was interrupted by the two maids covering her mouth with their dainty white gloves. Thankfully, though it offered little comfort, their hands did not have the same substance-spreading effects as Geôlière's, and her mouth remained open. She wanted to spit. Bite. Hurt - and yet could find the energy to do nothing. The most she could muster was a pained, muffled yelp, almost inaudible.

"You really are so loud, you know. Not only verbally - you wear so many... colors. So bright! So obscene."

Geôlière gestured at the last of Eliza's remaining tattoos, chuckling to herself.

"Flowers. Goodness, how cliche." she said, prompting the maids to don cruel, taunting smiles of their own. "Not to mention how they clash with my beautiful décor."

Without a further word, Geôlière ran her hand across Eliza's roses and coated them in inky, black nothingness. Her body, once a skin-toned bouquet of roses, peonies, and lilies, now sat as monochromatic as the paintings on the walls.

Why did the tingling feel so much more intense, now?

Every inch of her body was alight. Electric shivers coursed through her two skins, her body twitching, convulsing, writhing in pleasure as the blackness spread. In between her struggling, the maids loosened their grip on her, finding that her body was growing limp and heavy of its own accord. Eliza's mind screamed, begged her to return to clarity - but she was awash in unfathomable pleasure, too lost in the black haze to bother returning to the light.

The substance formed such neat, organized patterns, she thought! So long as the Madame didn't interfere with its spread, it formed geometric shapes that slowly filled themselves with color. Like building blocks, stacking themselves higher and higher, covering more and more of her original, pale skin. So... clean. Organized.

Smiles spread across the lips of the maids. Something in Eliza's mind snapped.

Without taking a moment to think, she resumed her writhing against the maids, desperate to claw her way out of their grip. No! Whatever it was that Geôlière did to these maids, she wouldn't be doing it to her! Not... not without a fight, first!

Geôlière giggled a bit, kneeling down to stare at Eliza more intently. It was a patronizing, othering gaze - as if she was inspecting an object for purchase. Eliza's writhing seemed to barely register to her as she placed a soft hand across the forearm of the maid holding Eliza's right arm.

"Thank you, mon poupées; relâcher. I want to savor this one a bit longer." The Madame said. She smiled as Eliza hesitated and searched for a word - any word - to scream.

"Bitch!"

As soon as Eliza shouted, Geôlière leaned in. Their faces were inches apart, now; Eliza could feel Geôlière's cold, sterile breath - completely pure, untainted air. Like a machine - beautiful and calculated. Eliza could do little more than stare into the Madame's abyssal eyes, screaming and thrashing against the maids and Geôlière's plush, thick body - until a black-gloved finger dragged itself across her lips, sealing her mouth in the substance.

"There we are!" Geôlière began, smiling wide and clapping her hands together. "So much quieter, now - and already I notice the improvement!"

The maids smiled, just as silently as they always had.

Eliza's eyes went wide. Her jaw strained, her lips moving and quivering as she attempted to open them once more - but no matter her effort, they were still constrained in black, rubbery silence. Every atom of her being focused on the need to rip it off and free her lips, to let her breathe, to let her speak - but the maids held tight. Her arms flexed, her hips and torso turned as she bucked her legs; even if she'd tried it ten times before, she had to do it again. Tears streamed down her face, rolling off the waterproof rubber and onto the perfect, white floors.

"To tell you the truth, Eliza, I had been needing a new maid. Their workload had simply become too much to keep up with, and I was simply itching to try out this delightful new substance on a human being." the Madame said, holding out her gloved hand before tapping it against Eliza's exposed skin. "Don't you love it?"

Geôlière tickled Eliza under her chin, spreading the black all across her neck. She never was particularly sensitive, but now, even the lightest touch from Geôlière's hands were causing her to tense up, twitching in pleasure. Her toes curled, her eyes rolled back; the Madame, curious, ran a hand across Eliza's jeans, pausing as she felt a lump.

"Filthy thing! Ugh. Such crude impulses, yet to be refined by my touch. I have a feeling we know what you want, don't we?"

She strained. Resisted. Fought back tears.

But in the end, Eliza nodded.

Without wasting a second, the maids loosened their grip and exposed more of Eliza's body to the Madame's curious hands. One of them began gently unzipping their captive's torn jeans, tilting her head to the side as if seeking approval. The other, with a curious gaze, began moving a hand across Eliza's breasts, her white gloves sliding across the black, reflective surface. Geôlière herself wiped a tear from Eliza's cheek, laughing; the sound echoed through the halls of the silent manor, mixed only with muffled cries for more.

Nothing could compare to how the Madame's touch made her feel. It instantly shattered all the last vestiges of resistance and assertiveness that had propped up Eliza's poor mind up until now. Flashes of burning pleasure rocked her entire form whenever the maids moved a hand or Geôlière brushed the inside of her rubber-slick thigh with a gentle finger; they were formulaic, as if her mind itself had been tidying and organizing the ecstasy that flooded through it.

Geôlière succeeded in removing Eliza's jeans, smiling her wicked, coy smile. "Goodness me, you are quite, excited, mon poupée. I had worried that you would be my first failure, and yet..."

Free from its constricting prison, Eliza's cock twitched frantically. Every tiny movement even near it sent an overwhelming desire through her mind - standing out as the only clear thought in an ever-growing sea of blackened fog. She needed this. Her body hated it, her mind loathed it - but she needed this! The maids began constricting her more tightly, wrapping hands around her throat as more and more of Geôlière's servants arrived, eager to find the source of the commotion.

Shapes formed in the blackened fog wrapped around Eliza's thoughts. Nothing could describe their beautiful forms, but they were assuredly geometric - and perfectly refined. Further and further Eliza succumbed to pleasure, feeling Geôlière wrap her full hand around her shaft as she fondled her round balls, looming over her with her much larger, much more flawless body. Eliza mentally compared it to her own - inadequate and imperfect. Filthy. The blackened latex had yet to spread across her full form, leaving gaps of exposed and impure flesh for Geôlière to mock.

"Someone needs more work, doesn't she?" the Madame teased, eliciting hums of joy from the maids who now formed a circle around the two. Unable to do much more, Eliza forced a nod - as best she could, of course, as the maids were unrelenting in their grip around her head.

The Madame cooed as she crawled up Eliza's toned body, pressing her head-sized breasts against Eliza's. They squished themselves against the black, reflective rubber, pale white smothering black; with a look to the maids, they relented their hands, allowing her access to Eliza's throat.

Waves of unending ecstasy crashed against the increasingly-fragile bulwark of Eliza's mind, made only worse by the feeling of the black substance creeping its way up and down her neck, digging deeper and deeper until, finally, it seemed to connect with her nervous system. With a twitch, the black fog constricted every last thought, memory, and impulse into oblivion - and the geometric patterns shattered into a thousand shards before fading away into nothingness.

Eliza had never dreamed of feeling this good.

With every motion of the Madame's heavenly body, more and more of Eliza eroded away. Thoughts, memories, the capacity for individuality - all were strangled by black fog and popped like smoke-filled bubbles. Almost automatically, she began fondling Geôlière's luscious body; not out of any desire to feel her, but because she instinctively knew the Madame wanted it. She loved to be touched like that! Eliza... Eliza simply knew she loved it. If the Madame loved it, Eliza would, too.

Neither of them said a word in the silent foyer as Geôlière lifted her dress, sliding her hips and teasing Eliza's cock against her silk panties. Neither did the maids make a sound while Geôlière pressed Eliza's neck down, pushing her against the white, pristine floors, sparkling in the pale blue moonlight. It flowed off of the expanding blackness of Eliza's new flesh in milky streaks of white - obscuring the reflection of Geôlière's coy, grinning face.

By now, half of Eliza's face was obscured with her new skin. The last animal instincts not yet eliminated by the fog weakly rejected it, begged her with dying breaths to stand, to leave, to go home - but their pleas fell on deaf ears. Slowly, deliberately, the Madame's movements matched the pace at which the black latex spread across her much smaller victim, rolling and shifting and grinding as it expanded in inky, geometric patterns. It snaked up Eliza's tearstained face, across her pretty cheeks. It entangled itself around her freckles - the feature she'd always been thought of as so beautiful for - and smothered them in a blanket of dark, uniform rubber.