Strange Queens Ch. 03

When finally she was satisfied, the rumble now just a distant bassy buzz, she extracted her body from the nature around her and moved to a crouch, glancing outwards, checking the dirt road in both directions. Nothing to see. She stood and checked again, and quickly dropped back to her haunches as she saw the red of twin tail lights just over the crest of the small slope she had found her perch on. The car was still there, closer than she'd realised. It was stopped, parked on the dirt road, unmoving. She didn't dare look again in case her white skin cast a glinting shadow in a mirror, or in case the car's occupant was pissing behind a tree and just happened to be looking her way. No risks were worth taking here.

Roberts heard the car's door in the distance and listened on as she heard the engine rev as the vehicle started off again. She let out a breath and stood -

- to see the red headlights growing in size and brightness as the car backed down the path towards her!

*

Roberts dropped again, but she already knew something was wrong. There was no reason in fuck that that car would be backing up except that it had seen her. Her heart was racing now, but she remained calm. She could deal with whoever was in there, even if it was Paulo. She was no slave to anyone, least of all a fucking man, for Christ sake.

She backed up in her crouch, keeping the bush between her and the car. But it sped past the threshold and in moments a tall and sleek black jeep stood on the road right before her, its doors and wheels all the shining streamlined shapes of a luxury vehicle. The door opened and out stepped the bulky frame of Paulo Crete, his face hidden in shadow in front of the bright headlights. With little other light other than the stars, Roberts could only see his silhouette.

'Chelsea?' came the deep baritone voice, cutting through the clear night air sharply. It seemed as though even the wind, previously licking its lips around her body tentatively, begging for her to bend over and give it entry inside her, now rushed by silently, keen to be out of the way for whatever was coming, her body abandoned. The voice was low, even, questioning. Roberts stood up tall and proudly before him and raised her chin.

'Chelsea was the owner of this body, Male,' she said clearly. 'I am not her.' Paulo said nothing, stepped evenly up to her. She didn't move. Paulo stood before her, towering a full head over her tall frame, his body looking unbelievably powerful underneath his thick clothing. His eyes were still not visible, but she felt them glare down at her, drinking everything in, not a single whisper missing their keen gaze. Roberts kept her chin up, looking past the giant man, unwavering.

Roberts wasn't sure why, but she knew his hand was going to come up in a split-second. In the meta-time in which the brain works, she already knew that it would, and knew what reaction she would have, knew what she would try to do. As Paulo's arm bent and his hand made to rest on her shoulder, hers was moving in a flash, her fist pressing forwards into the man's exposed flank, to the pressure point of nerves just below his ribcage. At the same time her legs tensed, beginning to twist her frame. In a fraction of a second, her left leg was coiled under her, her right rising up, and the next moment she was springing up and throwing her shin forwards, a fly kick aimed directly at the side of the gigantic man's head.

The blow connected and his head cracked sideways as her powerful kick connected, already doubling over at the sucker punch to his side. But she wasn't done. As she lost upward momentum, her kicking leg retracting to her body, her left tensed and prepared to spring her forwards. As soon as her foot hit the dirt, she was flying forwards, her other leg ready to take over the run. She threw her arms in a small arc around her to negate the momentum of the spin kick, stopping her from tripping herself with crossed momentum, and she was off. Leaving the man dropping to his knees behind her, she threw her legs wide as she forced herself away from him with speed.

She had gotten about thirty feet when she felt her legs give off a strange feeling under her and she looked about herself in surprise to find her arms and legs flailing as she slammed the brakes on. Her heels dug into the soft sand, gravel flying from under her, in slow motion, saw every tiny movement of her toes stuck firmly down into the dirt, her breasts wobbling with the motion, her arms up to balance her. And through it all she felt the tinges of confusion start to explode in her brain as she realised she was still sending instructions to her arms and legs to run, the instruction to stop never cropping up in the list in her head. As she stopped and dropped her hands to the ground to stop herself from face planting it into the dirt, her hair flopping around her face, she rose upright and turned around, her hands returning to her sides after catching her fall. Behind her, or rather now, in front of her, she saw the huge form of Paulo knelt on one knee, one hand thrown out towards her, palm out, fingers wide. Faintly in the air she heard the ringing reverberations of a name, cried out in despair.

'Chelsea!'

She watched from her standing position in shock as Paulo's fingers on his outstretched hand clenched together slowly. Still stunned it took her a moment to realise that her body was stepping forwards under her, stepping back towards the man. No, no no no, she thought in fear. No, this isn't right, this can't be happening! I am in control! I am not Chelsea! I cannot be controlled by a man!

The last thought, the idea of a man having control over HER, Roberts, stunned her more. But here she was, running, or at least mentally running, while her body stepped stiffly back up to the huge man. As she arrived before him, he stood upright, his body now seemingly even more massive than before, towering over her. It had to have been the ground or something, different heights in the dirt.

Paulo stood, one hand on his jaw, the other held at the hip, his clenched fist still tightly balled. He looked down at the naked female, the girl he'd known as Chelsea, the girl who had just told him that she wasn't Chelsea at all. Something about her speech, her attitude, had ringed with him. She had stood tall, defiant, proud. Not the attitude of a woman hiding behind a mask, denial and fear dripping from her.

'Who are you?' He breathed in his bassy tone, his voice level. Roberts pursed her lips, did her best to clench her own fists by her side and stand stiffly. She thought she might have managed it, but she couldn't quite tell. She didn't want to do him the honour of looking down at herself to check. She had to think, and fast. Why was her body still under his control? Why wasn't she able to run from him?

A faint vibration from deep below the mind of Eliza Roberts caught her attention for a moment and she looked down. The calm pool that was all that was left of Chelsea's conscious sat, unmoving, lifeless. But deep inside it, a faint memory, more of a vibration, echoed up to her from the muffled depths. Roberts stepped back from the controls and dipped a hand into the sticky mess of the consciousness's version of what a pool of female cum would be like, and grasped the vibration, lifting it out from the mess that was the resting place of Chelsea in this mind. Though tiny, and though sticky, Roberts assumed it so she could find out what it was. In an instant, words flashed through her mind.

'...Body, mind and spirit...' What? What did that mean?

'... I assume you in body...'

Roberts concentrated on it, the world outside frozen in time while her brain calculated with the speed of thousands of computers.

'...Body, in mind, and in spirit, to be mine...' This made very little sense to Roberts, and yet she felt a chill run down her proverbial spine as she listened to the memory.

'... forever, as one and as all, until holy intervention parts us in eternity.' And Roberts realised what the memory was, and why it was so relevant. The world returned to speed as her consciousness finished its micro-time revelry, her eyes flooding with shock and horror as Paulo spoke.

'Kneel!' he commanded, his hand dropping to his side, his other fist clenching too. Roberts flicked her head defiantly.

'I will not!' she shot back firmly. 'I am Eliza Roberts, and you have no control over me anymore!' she said, firm, confident, but not with the solid confidence of knowing she was speaking the truth. There was a horrific realisation seeping through her body even as she said the words.

Paulo looked at her and chuckled very softly, humourlessly.

'Look at yourself, woman. Roberts, you call yourself. Just look down.' Roberts didn't dare for half a second before she did, and she felt her heart turn green. She was scarily close to the dirt, much too close to it, her legs from the knee down somehow missing from under her.

She hadn't been dismembered, much as she might have preferred that outcome at present. She was kneeling.

'Who are you, devil? Who are you that inhabits my female?' Paulo boomed above her, now actually towering over her. His eyes seemed to glow, as impossible as that was. Roberts didn't dare to even think, but it didn't matter. It seemed her body was accessing her mind for her.

'Eliza Roberts, Doctor, in the body of Chelsea.'

'Why?' came the deep rumble of Paulo's voice. Again, Roberts spoke without meaning to.

'Assimilation of mental cognitivity through forced physical reconstruction process resulting from the introduction of two minds in a process designed to extract and infuse one mind with subconscious controls as a distraction whilst being transferred between suitable host bodies. A process I...' Roberts felt herself stumble as her body wasn't sure what to call itself, 'call transmogrification.'

There was a moment of silence between them. Paulo seemed to be calculating an infinite number of things at once. Roberts could barely work out how to get herself off her damn knees before the giant man.

'You know,' came the bass of Paulo's voice, 'I know about you. I used a specialised form of auto-erotic hypnosis on the woman who owns this body, Chelsea, to find out her past. You came up, but it was always hazy, it never tied into her past, never had any pieces of the puzzle to put you in the picture. Your house, your mountainside retreat, is this the location of your transmogrification device?' Paulo asked evenly. Roberts blanched internally, managed to get her body to purse its lips. As she knelt before him, naked, she watched him reach before himself and unbutton his trousers, saw his zip slide down, saw the thick underwear beneath. She saw the thick rod hidden behind them, impossibly long, impossibly thick. She saw it was hard, and saw his thumbs hook over the top of the restricting pants and begin to pull them down. Roberts felt her body tingling, felt her own consciousness respond. She even felt the mess of dead conscious that was Chelsea stir far below her own mind. She began to speak, faster, nervous now.

'Yes, yes it is. What else do you know about me?' Roberts asked. She watched the pants ever so slowly sliding down, saw the start of his closely shaved hairline peeking out into the cold air, knew it wouldn't be far away.

'I know much about you, Miss Roberts. But I don't know everything. And I would very much like to.' Paulo said, casually, his thumbs dropping lower and lower. Roberts's eyes were glued to the member behind the fabric, glued to the rim of the pants as they slid. They reached his base and began to slip over the rod, and she laid eyes on the tiniest of fractions of his glorious length. She was petrified now but her body was as much in control as she was, and she could feel herself dangerously close to the sticky, scented waters of ejaculate that housed Chelsea's dormant mind.

'I know you kept this body captive,' Paulo said. His cock base now visible. 'I know you enjoy very many of the pleasures of the female body-' the shaft was slipping up, it was nearly exposed -- 'I know you think of yourself as a goddess, a mentor to women, a master to men. You think you and the female form are superior in every way.' The glorious length was nearly free now. His balls were exposed, giving Roberts her first real idea of how enormous his member really was to still have its helmet covered when his balls were visible. 'And I know that you once owned two such females, much as I now own you. What I want to know, however, is,' he paused, the only non-visible part of his meat the head, 'whether or not you are immune to being owned yourself. And I want to know your secrets. And,' he took a breath, his thumbs ready.

'I want to know how well you take my dick.'

His pants dropped in slow motion to the dirt, his glorious length swinging free before Roberts. Her eyes locked in hypnotic wonder at its peak, swinging pendulum-like before her nose, the enormous head round and firm and ready to slide inside her, she finally felt her body take over her control entirely, and watched as her head moved forwards and tilted as her lips parted and she felt the first taste of his pre-cum tainting her tongue, the huge head slipping freely and easily over her tongue. Her cheeks sucking in as she wrapped her lips around his shaft, his cock sliding openly right past her tonsils and delving deep, deep into her throat, blocking her airways, plunging into her body, filling her up, seeping into her very lungs, into her womb, twisting and turning, seducing and squeezing her into its control, the head of the enormous sex snake slithering out her cunt with a stretching power that nearly made her explode as the glorious helmet twisted around her leg and down through her toes.

It hooked around her body, under her arms, around her breasts and waist, lifting her up entirely before it slithered back down her spine, its open tip leaving a trail of semen over her skin that cooled in the wind and drove her nerves into overdrive, before it wriggled over her bum and pressed easily between her cheeks, finding her anus easily, before gathering itself up in preparation and ramming with jarring solidarity, finality, inside the last part of her body not totally consumed with his cock. The last fleeting thing she remembered was feeling her entire body explode with bliss, covered head to toe, inside and out, with the snaking, slithering, tentacle-like penis that consumed her.

* * * * *

Roberts woke with a start on the couch in the living room inside Paulo's house. She was startled and nervy, her dreams a mess of memories of women trapped inside her chambers and various contraptions of experimentation all aimed towards the control and sexualisation of women as she saw them best, splashed with pictures and sensations of an enormous cock slithering inside her body, ever present, ever twisting and turning in her womb, growing, feeding off her, readying itself for the day where it would burst forth from deep inside her womb and smothering her in its grasp permanently.

In reality, Robert's body hadn't really been completely filled with Paulo's enormous member. In fact, he hadn't grown much inside her at all, apart from growing more erect as he'd slid into her tight throat. But she had quite happily engorged herself on his length, impaling herself from the mouth on him, pushing herself on him until her nose touched his navel, some eleven inches pressed down into her windpipe, taking it without a single concern until she'd knocked herself out on him from lack of oxygen. After she'd fainted, he'd actually kept her upright on his length, his erect member so thick and firm down her neck that she simply went limp and rested against his leg. Paulo had disengaged himself from her body, slipping his meat out of her with a slippery and somewhat sticky network of strings made up of saliva and cum still connecting him to her mouth. He'd watched as his length had slipped out of her throat, seeing her stretched neck return to size as his cock had retracted from her.

He had been careful and methodical about cleaning off his length, taking a good twenty minutes sat by the prone woman's side to wank it out, one hand casually fondling her as his mind raced off in a million trains of thought. His climax, when it came, was a long and mellow jizz, coating the stone between his ankles with strings of semen as his other hand gently gripped a breast on the unconscious female. His ejaculation over -- as much a necessary evil as a necessity out of arousal, a penis the size of his had to be firmly told when to stiffen and relax, as it takes a lot of blood to harden the rod and more arterial paths to direct blood in and out -- he came to a conclusion. Cleaning his hand off of his natural lubricant, wiping his palm off on the body of Chelsea/Roberts, he lifted the limp girl into the back of his car, returned his pants to their place and started back on his way down the dirt path in his jeep, the tinges of blue and gold starting to peek over the horizon as the day made its way towards them.

And now Roberts had woken. She took stock of her surroundings, taking in her nudity, the couch inside the house, and the company, or lack thereof, of anyone around. She hated to think about what might have been done to her while she was asleep, but that would be a point to wait.

Her mind clearing from her deep slumber, she swung her legs off the couch and spread them. She slid a finger into herself, as deep as she could go, knuckle depth, wiggled it a little, then withdrew.

Quickly she tasted it, the entire length, sucking it clean. Okay, she thought, at least it didn't seem she had been fucked by either of the men here. Good, the last thing she needed was pregnancy, let alone the horrifying reality of having had a male inside her. She repeated the process for her rear, checking first to make sure she didn't suck on anything too bad, though not too fussed if she did. She could think of many things worse than ingesting small amounts of that particular excrement, one of which was a man inside her body. Again, though, she found little of interest.

Her body still in self-check mode, she ran a finger around her mouth, her other hand wiping itself of dampness and anything else and applying itself to checking her muscles and tendons, locating any sores or wounds that might indicate invasion from men, the sign of a struggle or the possibility of something implanted into her. Her mouth hand checked her teeth and gag reflex, and only found her gag to be very delayed and somewhat muted, like she had been forced to gag recently to the point where her body had numbed this particular sensation and reaction so as to prevent pain or damage. While that was worrying, she knew why it was there, as much as she tried to ignore how disgusted it made her feel.

Her checks done, Roberts cast her eyes about the room. Nothing seemed out of place; this was Paulo's second living room, a spare of sorts, well-furnished but otherwise uninteresting for a thief or an opportunist. Unless she was planning on pocketing books and using a wall-mounted TV as a weapon, everything was pretty much useless. There weren't even any real goodies hidden in here; this part of the house was situated above the back of garage, which ran right from the front of the place through the side and out the back a whole room length, enough space for four cars to drive in and diagonally park along the wall. This room sat right above the sticking out rear of the garage, covered on three sides by windows and a story-high drop, the only entrance and exit in the one wall that connected to the rest of the house. It was a dead end, a view room, and a cell for Roberts.