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Message-ID: <29929asstr$987790202@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: cats_sara@yahoo.com (Cat's sara)
Reply-To: cats_sara@yahoo.com
NNTP-Posting-Date: Fri, 20 Apr 2001 03:43:59 PDT
Subject: {ASSM} Shocking Origin by Cat' sara
Date: Fri, 20 Apr 2001 14:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

----

Shocking Origin

by Cat' sara

Categories: FF,MA,MC,FT

----
*foreword by EyeofSerpent

Please welcome Sara to our company of authors. She arrives bearing 
gifts, in this case, a tribute to the tale 'Shockingly Black'.

Readers may wonder, 'Why would Eye encourage or allow someone else to 
tell this story?'

My answer is simple. It is told well and with an energy that I feel 
complements the original work. Please enjoy as I have.
..-)

Eye*

---- 

*Author's note - 

This story contains graphic descriptions of sex and adult situations.
If you find that you are offended by this, please read no further.
If you are offended by this and read it anyway, I suggest you quit
lying to yourself *grin*.

Also, I owe an incredible debt of gratitude to EyeofSerpent for
allowing me to play with this story, along with keen insights as it 
progressed. I only hope that I have come close to creating the heat 
that the original evoked.  

- Sara*


----

Part One

You can call it an inspiration if you want, but that's not really how 
it felt at the time. It was more like a realization that came over a 
period of a few years, with the culminating point being a revelation.

Learning is like that. Take math, for instance. You don't understand 
it, and you don't understand it, and you don't understand it, and then

you understand it. It happens all at once; a gestalt experience, the 
Great Ah-Ha.

That's how it was with the creation of the Black Object. I call it the

Object because I don't know what else to call it. To explain, maybe I 
should begin at the beginning: My background is mechanical
engineering. 
I went to MIT, and graduated with honors, although I wasn't anywhere 
near the top of my class. I enjoyed the way things fit together into 
efficient, purposeful manifestations of the dreams in someone's head. 

Maybe it's because I'm a woman in a male dominated field, but I felt
I had a keener insight into that aspect, at least philosophically.

After leaving school, I worked, of all things, as Director of
Research for a cooking utensil company. It was horribly unsatisfying,
but it paid the bills. It also left me time to pursue other interests.


Really, there were only two. They were reading and sex. I know at this
point that you would like me to say I was more interested in sex, but
that simply wasn't the case at the time. I was having trouble finding
a partner, for one thing. In Kleeport, North Dakota, there aren't many
outlets for lesbian engineers. The only women I met were pretty
backward in taste and in knowledge. I don't mean to sound snobby - it
was simply a case of no one really "clicking."

As a result, I had a rather large collection of sex toys. Dildos,
vibrators, plugs, clamps, electronic gadgets... and although I had my
share of orgasms, the overall effect was rather hollow. I was
searching for the perfect toy, the perfect lover, the perfect anything
that could get me into the fantasized state of no longer caring what
was happening around me except for unbridled lust. 

Don't look so incredulous; if you tell the truth about it, you have
always wanted that too. I know, because we're all the same in very
basic ways. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

At the same time, I was reading several books. They were all typical
of the genre I was currently pursuing: Sort of Eastern-philosophy
mind-over-matter creative-visualization "we create our own reality"
books. As I said before, I enjoyed looking into and exploring the link
between what we think and how we manifest our thoughts into real
objects. It had occurred to me more than once that what we create is
nearly always a compromise between what we can fashion with our hands
and what we think in our minds. There is always the flaw that comes
from moving from the psyche into the physical world.

Once I was done with my latest books, I found myself looking for a new
book at the local mom-and-pop bookstore when a little paperback caught
my eye. It was brown, not very thick, and had along the spine, very
simply in yellow block letters, the words "Subjective Reality". The
title didn't appear on the cover, and neither did the author, but it
was on clearance, so I decided to pay the $1.50 and take a look.

I opened it up that night and the first words written were, "You alone
are responsible for the amount of information you get from this book.
You already know it, and this book, if you let it, will guide you to
what you already know but do not realize."

I read it all night, three times, from cover to cover. 

I don't know if I can truly explain this part - it's so personal, and
so profound that it is hard to describe. It was like watching all the
pieces fall into place. Everything I'd been taught, from the Golden
Rule to Higher Math, seemed to suddenly make sense. Areas of
philosophical conflict were easily and methodically brought to
resolution - it was like the coalescence of every moment and event in
my entire life. The information was simple, in fact. It was simply
that we create our own reality. 

Here is an example. 

You touch something to your tongue. That creates a chemical reaction,
which creates an electrical current, which is sent to your brain. Your
brain interprets the electrical signal and you think something along
the lines of, "That tastes great!" or, "That tastes awful!" Well, what
I came to see is that EVERYTHING is that way. The only reason that a
house exists is because we believe it exists. It exists for more than
one of us because we AGREE that it exists. We each have unique
interpretations of it, and they may not match at all, but since we
cannot see into each other's heads, we simply agree that we must be
experiencing the same thing. 

Taken a step farther, I could be lying asleep on planet Zortax healing
my nineteen tentacles, and dreaming every bit of this up. If that is
the case, then if I imagine something convincingly enough to make it
real, then it will be real. If others agree that it is real, then I
have wandered into a state of consciousness where I think great
prophets and miracle workers have ventured. I know many of you have
had these thoughts, but suddenly I knew them more truly and deeply
than I had ever known anything in my life. I was leaping into a new
reality, and I was ready for it.

By the way, as far as I know, I'm only Rachel Tellis, a human female
on planet earth.

Anyway, that's how the creation of the Black Object got started... I
was in a new reality, and I was also horny. I decided to meditate to
take my mind off my arousal, but it kept coming to me stronger and
stronger, along with the new knowledge I had. There was a primal form
shaping in my mind. I kept trying to make it into a woman but it kept
falling back in on itself in my head. It ended up and a vaguely
phallic thing, almost like a banana, with a little tip. 

As I gave into my imagination, it became a sort of transceiver for
sexual play. It sent out pure erotic energy and as it returned, it
stored it like a battery, changing its functioning based on the
information it received. It was relentless in its pleasure, and it
changed the reality of the person it came in contact with. Everything
it touched became erotic and subject to the pleasure and whims of
whoever was engaged in its irresistible seduction. It would use my own
realization of the nature of reality to change the reality of whoever
used it. 

I could feel my pussy on fire as the fantasy and meditation went on
and on. My nipples were aching and erect - my years of dissatisfaction
pouring into this moment. My body was moving of its own accord, and
inside my mouth and even in my anus I was feeling slick and chilled -
my mind was becoming lost in a sea of obsession and my reality was
shifting faster than I could control it. 

My finger pinched my nipples and moved to my clit. I thought about my
tongue as a clit and pinched it and immediately realized the change
taking place in me. My breathing was rasping and as I screamed in pure
ecstasy my pussy and anus and tongue *orgasmed* together and I tasted
melon sherbet on my tongue. Soundlessly screaming as I leaked cum over
and over, my mind awash and lost in a sea of blasting, thunderous
ecstasy, music beyond words filled my brain and caressed my skin like
a thousand snakes' tongues as I slipped into delicious slick chill
blackness... 

I awoke sometime later, thick and groggy and itching from the dried
sexual juices that had flowed from me. My mouth was dry, and as I
reached up to touch it, I realized that I had the same juices covering
my face that were covering my thighs. I made my way through the
darkness to the bathroom and turned on the light and went to the
shower. As I turned on the water, I nearly convulsed from the shivers
of ecstasy as the water ran down my body. 

Every nerve I had was singing to me, and I came hard, almost falling
over in the tub. 

I rinsed off as best I could without succumbing to the delicious,
almost evil sensations coursing deeply through me and into my brain.
Even the towel was making my pussy slick and yearning... something in
me had definitely changed, and though it was scary, it was too
powerful to push away. As my hands wandered my body, I realized that
my mouth was thickly slick too... like sweet ambrosia... and as it
slid gently down my throat I found myself losing any thought save the
pleasure that was building once again. Suddenly, like a dam bursting,
I fell to the floor, convulsing with pure, raw pleasure. I could feel
every nerve in my body respond and transmit and amplify my orgasm, and
before it even crested another was upon me, and then another, stacking
and stacking, a mountain of bliss and lust. It kept pouring like
Niagara into my soul as I lost all thought and existence to primal,
irresistible lust and abandon, the Black Object filling my head until
it was more than everything, it was the Goddess, it was existence... 

This time when I woke up, I didn't even try to clean myself off. What
I had experienced was so earth-shatteringly beautiful that to change
it would be something akin to blasphemy. I made my way carefully, not
touching anything except my feet to the floor (which was enough to
keep me hotly shivering). I stepped over to my bed, and stopped cold.
Lying in the folds and wrinkles of the sheets (which reminded me,
oddly, of the folds of a vagina) was the Object of my meditation and
fantasy. Here was my vision, black, perfect, slightly otherworldly due
to the almost imperceptible iridescence it had as the light played
along its sides. The Object.

If you can imagine this, it was incredibly rude and intrusive, yet at
the same time it evoked an almost tangible sense of curiosity. 

Okay, now I was scared. It's one thing to realize that we create
reality, and quite another to actually create it. I reached out to
touch it gently, to confirm it in my mind.

>*spark*<

I lifted it, felt its weight. As my arm broke out in goosebumps and my
nipples hardened, I felt the swoon of the slick chill blackness of my
earlier vision. My mouth went slick and swollen along with my pussy. I
felt the urge to taste it, to feel it inside my mouth. 

The power of this thing was greater than even my fantasy. Quite
honestly, I don't know how I managed to unwrap my fingers and let it
go. Maybe it had a consciousness and knew me as its creator, or maybe
I just got lucky. I knew somehow that if it ever made it into me
anywhere, its potent sexuality would consume me, despite the fact that
it came from my own wicked dreams. Even now it was insidiously shaping
my thoughts. Investigate this thing. Take it to the lab. Analyze my
own secretions. Need new samples. Put it in my mouth. No. My pussy.
NO! My ass! NO!!! I realized it was a losing battle. My own lust had
been the germ that created it. It operated like a terrible feedback
loop, taking my sexual energy, sending it back to me, my own mind
adding to it, sending it through again, amplifying it ten, a hundred,
a thousand times. 

*How do you defend yourself against your own most secret and obscene
desires?*

I dragged myself to the kitchen and got a pair of plastic tongs. I
picked up the Object with them. Mmmmm tongs pinching my nipples... no,
taking it to the window and dropping it to the sidewalk below, hearing
the Object smash on the ground... I felt the thing shatter inside my
head, wracking me with pain and despair. This was far beyond anything
I had ever thought earlier in the evening. I went to bed and crashed
into sleep, thinking vague and half-crazed thoughts about what door I
had opened...

I woke up late the next morning, feeling a little run over. With
everything that had happened, I had forgotten to set my alarm.
Luckily, I was only a half-hour later than normal so with some luck I
would still be ready when Laura, my carpool partner, arrived to pick
me up for another dreary day.

I thought about the night before and felt frightened and elated at the
same time. Somehow, I had managed to completely transform my
experience of reality, or gained the ability to transform reality
itself.

As far as I knew, it might be a unique experience.

The sudden sense of responsibility was staggering. I went to the open
window for some fresh air.  I was thinking about how "in control" I
would have to be with this new knowledge, when I looked down and
nearly lost my composure completely. Instead of shards of shattered
black, there were several identical Black Objects laying scattered on
the ground outside. Seven of them, to be exact. 

I threw on my robe, grabbed a broom and dustpan from the kitchen, and
went outside to pick them up.  As they rolled from the sidewalk into
the dustpan, even the light tinkling sound made my tongue go slick and
I felt my clit swell.  The sound was sweet corruption - it *blended*
into the music that kept echoing through my head like a song that was
stuck there.  By the time I got them to the living room, I was
staggering from the erotic visions burrowing into my mind. 
Even the wallpaper looked like it was swirling and dancing in rhythms
that made my hips move and my tongue rasp against my teeth, bringing
forth a nerve-shattering clitoris-like sensation I couldn't resist.

I stood on a precipice, the music and memory calling me with dark,
black, slick promises of unending sexual fire.  It was as if the chill
black Objects were now working in concert, calling me by something
deeper than my name, something more basic than breathing.  My
splintering mind barely commanded my arms to put the dustpan down, and
I fell away, rather than walked out of the living room.

In the hall, I caught my breath, and after a few minutes my mind
cleared a bit, and I made my way to the bathroom for a quick shower.
Every motion was an agony.  Step.  Step.  Pull back the shower
curtain.  Lean over.  Turn on the water.  Turn on the shower.  Step
in.  Pull the shower curtain closed.  Turn around.  Luckily, this
morning, the water was just water.  My mind was finally starting to
wake up again, although my fingers seemed to spend an inordinate
amount of time washing my nipples and crotch.  I realized with a start
that touching my own body had changed. 

My fingers and hands, although I controlled them, felt like someone
else caressing my body. You know what I mean; it never feels as good
to fondle yourself as it does when someone else is doing it. Well, at
least that's how it was before that morning. I was drying myself off,
unable to stop my mind from wandering into more thoughts of lust and
beautiful abandon, when I heard Laura call out, "Rachel?" 

"Be there in a minute, Laura! I'm running a little late - I'll be
right down!" I responded. I put a simple outfit on the bed and
towel-dried my hair. Thank the Goddess (the image of the Object
brought a brief smile to my face) for short hair. Funny how the Object
was appealing and revolting at the same time.

 >*spark*< 

I felt my mouth go slick and a rush of arousal hit my pussy and I
suddenly remembered the Objects on the coffee-table. 

"Laura?" No answer. "Hey, Laura!" I shouted and ran to the living
room. Nothing prepared me for what I would see. Nothing in my entire
life. There was Laura, her legs spread widely, on her knees leaning
over the couch. Her clothes lay in a crumpled pile nearby and her eyes
were wide and wild with panic. But the sight of my naked friend was
not what shocked and frightened me. Not at all. Her mouth was full of
obsidian blackness pumping in and out with her tongue. Her hands were
at her crotch, one pumping a black glass deep into her pussy, the
other pumping an Object alternately, slickly, in and out of her anus.
She looked like some bizarre sex cultist, her body undulating
obscenely and with total disregard to anything else in the world.

 *In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.*

Her body arched backwards as she came, and she fell to the floor, her
legs bucking and flailing, here eyes now closed, her mind apparently
lost in the sensations my creation was giving her. Her mouth sucked
and gagged at the copious juices she fought to keep from escaping her
mouth. As she lost consciousness, I tasted melon sherbet on my tongue
and remembered how good it was. How it could hardly be better. How I
was born for this. How I wanted to do it. How silly my objections
were. How I could not stop. How I had to obey. How I had to let go. I
shook those thoughts off, or at least tried to press them down to a
manageable level. I had to think fast or we'd be in even bigger
trouble. As she lay there, I went to the kitchen and called into work
to report that I wouldn't be  coming in that day. I called Laura's
supervisor, and asked if she could loan her to me for a special
research project I was working on. That done, I returned to try to
help my friend.

I swear, I had only the purest of intentions. I know it was wrong, but
as I walked back into the room, a wave of raw lust hit me and I lost
it. After a night and morning of being assaulted with unimaginable
arousal, I surrendered to the primal need coursing through me in wave
after wave. I looked at Laura, and knew I should help her. Help her.
Help her. Help her. I walked over to her passed out form. I wasn't
sure how to proceed. I reached down to the coffee table and picked up
a Black Object. Before I even had a chance to think, my hand pressed
it easily into my slick vagina. I gasped and my eyes nearly bulged out
of their sockets. It was so fucking *good*. I'd had no idea. I knew
right then that it was of no use to think of morality and ethics.

There was only desire. The blackness, the Object and desire. I giggled
as my brain began the musical and repetitive rambling of lunacy. *The
Object of Desire. The Obsidian of Orgasm. The Lodestone of Lust.*

I grabbed the coffee table as I fell to my knees as a wave of
unrestrained bliss washed over me and filled me. My fingers grabbed
for purchase and found instead another chill curve of black glass. As
if obeying the call of a deeper demon, my hand plunged it unprepared
into my anus as my mouth went slick and dripping with sexual essence.
My mind calmed. Nothing more than this. Nothing less than this. My
eyes closed as music filled my head, music from heaven and hell, music
that would not be assuaged with reason. I felt Laura stir and turned
to look at her. Her eyes both pleaded with and called to me. 

"I'm going to help you, Laura," I said gently, careful not to disrupt
the passion singing in my ears and flowing over my skin. "Everything
will be fine," I whispered as I leaned over and put my mouth to hers,
and began pumping the chill black glass in and out of her mouth, and
in and out of mine, keeping time with music beyond imagining... 

----

Part Two

I felt myself coming up from a pool of blackness, vaguely wondering
how long I had slept. I had the half-asleep feeling of deep arousal
that comes with the end of sexual dreams, but the dreams were already
disappearing, leaving only a hazy feeling of euphoric satisfaction. 

I lifted my head and suddenly felt chill slickness in my mouth. My
eyes sprang open to see Laura's face, her closed eyes so close they
merged into one in my vision. I jerked back as I remembered the Black
Glass and the ravaging I had put her through. I felt the smooth black
invader pop out of my mouth and the rush of heat through my nipples
and into my clit; vibrating against an identical Object already
nestled in my pussy. 

My mouth *ached* and my head fell forward, sliding down on the vile
glass before I could form the thought to stop myself. I tried going
very slowly, and was able to get free of the glass after what seemed
like an eternity. I looked down at my carpool partner and sudden,
unexpected lover. 

The outrageous obsidian beast was still sticking out of her mouth as
she slept, and I felt guilt and revulsion course through me. She was
absolutely covered in our combined juices, but they had not dried--
they were viscous, and shone like oil on her skin. I sat back on my
legs and felt the other Objects still inside me slip deeper and I
nearly fainted from the pulse of pleasure that swept upward through
me.

I caught a glance of myself in a reflection from a window. My lips
were swollen to the point of grossness, but somehow they looked sexy,
inviting the most depraved visions to enter my head. I looked at Laura
again, her auburn shoulder length hair, green eyes and petite nose...
her lips, once thin and dry, were swollen and loose and begging for my
kiss. 

The Black Object *called* to me again and I was immediately filled
with aching need. I was angry and Laura's complete vulnerability to
what had happened felt like my fault. My nipples tightened and I ran
my tongue over my lips. It hit me then. Was the Glass using that anger
to create a desire to return to more passionate hours of endless
bliss? Could anger be transformed into lust? *No!* I thought. *You are
not going to get me back into that spiral!* I screamed inside to my
chill black tormentor. 

I stood and felt the Objects still inside me bounce and collide and I
caught my breath. It was not just good; it was so far beyond good. It
was willful, complete seduction. I took a step towards the bathroom
and I felt my tongue *orgasm* and the smell of sex and melon sherbet
filled my nostrils and mouth and slickness streamed down my chin to my
breasts and belly, spreading desire and aching lust wherever it
touched. Each step became a pleasurable shift of my innards. Before I
made it to the bathroom, I came three more times... I had to use the
walls to keep from falling over. 

I grasped desperately at reason, at the last brittle shards of my
sanity, as the slick chill blackness began to sing its dark, addictive
song of wanton lust. A soft moaning sob startled me. It sounded so
lost. It didn't sound like me at all. I had to get these things deeper
into me - NO! - out of me before I began pumping them in and out
again, before I became a deranged accomplice of the Black Glass,
deliciously letting the oblivion take me farther and farther to the
point of no return where only ecstasy and bliss and fucking and
cumming and-- NO! I sat down shivering on the toilet, and excuse me
telling you this, but I tried a natural bit of muscle work to push the
Object out of my anus. 

You know what I mean. 

I pushed and felt it move and my anus went slick and I felt it *swell*
and suddenly my muscles slacked and it slid back in. A wall of
pleasure hit me like a breaking wave and my head swam. I tried again,
slowly, and the chill Black Object gradually slid out again. I was
concentrating on my effort and didn't even notice my hands hovering
near my breasts. Suddenly, without any thought, they pulled my nipples
hard and I spasmed, pulling the object back in. I tried to scream but
all that came out was a deep animal moan. I pressed out. Pulled back.
Pressed out. Pulled back. The music in my head was getting louder,
drowning out my thoughts. It took on a rhythm that my body followed,
like a possessed savage - even the air against my skin built my
passion upwards. I tried to fight it away, but it used all my energy
to increase the need in my lunatic fuck-filled mind. One hand leapt to
my pussy and began working the Object there against the beautiful
*No!* horrible, terrible, monstrously perfect, obscenely divine Black
Object in my ass. 

What little was left of my mind flashed that I had nothing more with
which to fight. And then that rational part wilted and died with the
slutty, whorish wail that came from my lips as I came over and over,
and I felt my brain *orgasm* and spread fire to every cell in my
being. Again and again I climaxed; it was unceasing, cascading into
the black music that would never be still again, the purest passion
and lust released forever as wave after wave of unbridled libido
transformed my very reason for existence. Even as I lost
consciousness, the waves did not stop, doing the work of my lurid
creation, the creation that I could no longer, that I had no desire to
control. 

That, in fact, controlled me. 

I dreamed of the Black Object. I felt my mind become porous, soaking
in the will of the lewd Obsidian Totem, my purpose becoming clear, my
lewd obedience becoming ingrained in every atom of my being, every
wisp of my soul. I saw the shifting reality I had tapped into, saw
that consciousness resided in between realities, a consciousness that
I had allowed into this world by way of knowledge and vision, but that
was much more powerful than the woman who had beckoned it. I had given
it form and purpose in this place and now it held me in its relentless
grip. My spirit was falling into a constant orgasm, though I knew that
awake I would only sense it as constant arousal, with incredible
orgasmic peaks that would follow as I moved in and out of congruence
with the consciousness embodied in the chill black obsidian of the
Objects. 

When I awoke, I was actually standing before the full-length mirror on
the back of the bathroom door. I felt the stab of the unreal. I had
somehow stood up and positioned myself in front of the mirror without
being awake...

I felt focused, I felt everything around me vibrate to the beautiful,
black, sinister music of symphonic debauchery. I was delirious with
rapture and need. My short blonde hair was mussed and matted with
slickness, and my body shone with the juices that had come from my
passion. My eyelids looked heavier and my body was literally exuding
sex, like waves of energy radiating outward along the curves. My eyes
were so dilated that I could only see a tiny line of blue where my
irises had once been. I was fucking *made* of horniness. 

I spread my legs apart widely and slowly removed the Objects from my
pussy and puckered asshole, each tiny motion causing me to sway and
moan as the undeniable pleasure coursed through my blood and into my
slick clit and tongue. And I thought of Laura. 

Laura with auburn hair and green eyes turning solid black... her lips
turning dark blood red, her face nearly white. The visions kept
coming, like the dreams of delirium, white hot with fevered
hallucinations, transforming her body, our bodies entwined in
lovemaking, love making her cum, coming to the edge, edging toward
insane endless fucking. 

I looked up to see my reflection holding the freed, chill Black
Objects to my temples. The two soft arcs of glass head to my head that
way looked like horns. Like a horny goat girl. I cocked my hip in a
sultry manner and realized that I was turning myself on. I hadn't ever
looked at myself quite the way I was seeing this wanton image in the
mirror.

God, I was so fucking hot. 

I sashayed into the living room. Laura was still passed out. I felt a
wicked grin cross my lips as I realized that this was probably so far
beyond her experience that she was unable to take so much at once. My
grin broke into a full smile as I realized with a delicious shiver
that we were just getting started.

"Laurrrrraaaaaaa!" I sing-songed to her. "Time to fuuu-uuuck!" I 
finished. 

She stirred and opened her eyes. They were solid black. Heat flashed
from the center of my bones outward, erupting on my slick skin as she
turned to look at me. 

"Rachel... what the hell happened? How could I have done this?!?" she
nearly wailed. 

I could tell she was near hysteria. It was perfect. She didn't even
know about her eyes yet. I was relishing every moment of driving her
to the brink. "It's not important, really, Laura," I said gently.
"You've just had a little bit of a... makeover is all," I giggled.
Fuck! I was even making myself hotter by playing word games with her.

"But Rachel, I'm not a lesbian, I'm not even f-f-faintly bi! I have a
f-f-fucking fianc ! How could I have let you f-- fu-- make love to
me?" Her face went ashen as the meaning of her own words hit her full
force.

I watched it all sink home inside her mind, and she made noise like a
whimper that turned into a low, uncontrolled moan. Her lips were
swelling as she remembered, turning blood red. Her resistance was sooo
beautiful and futile that it made me stagger slightly from the heat.
It was all I could do to keep from falling to her mouth again, pumping
sweet, black, insidious defilement and pleasure into her. Into me. The
inside of my mouth was pure slick chill sherbet as I thought again of
sharing the Object between us.

*Not yet* I thought, *not yet...* Through the sexual haze I realized
that she had changed according to my thought. Surprisingly though, my
thoughts about myself had left me unaltered. *Mmmmm so nice... time to
play. Slide your hands to your crotch* I thought at Laura. 

The objects in my hands sparked as she obeyed. *Lick your lips. Touch
the black glass still inside of you...* Laura's looked at me in panic
as her tongue seductively traced her swollen lips. 

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!?" she screamed at the top of her lungs. "It's
wonderful," I softly replied as I began to walk towards her. Her hands
found the nubs of the chill Black Objects *spark* and her entire body
jerked and I *came* hard with her, the slick juices melon sherbet
music tongue clit asshole beckoning me deeper into corrupting this so
recently innocent girl. 

Despite obvious intentions to the contrary, she began moving the 
Objects again, slowly, reluctantly, but steadily succumbing to the
incessant urge to let go. "This is so fucking good - ummm
humiliating!" she managed to pant through her quickening breath.
"...no, no, no, no, no,..." Her slickened lips and tongue formed the
words long after the sound was gone. 

I lay down my own pair of Obsidian Beasts and slid my body next to her
and placed my hands over hers, over the chill black shapes moving
faster and faster in and out of her shiningly slick, dripping cunt and
asshole. 

"Yes, it's absolutely evil," I whispered in her ear. 

She let out a low feral moan and I pressed my mouth to hers and we
began to cum together, cumming, cumming, cumming, no thought, only
pleasure... only orgasm on top of orgasm, deeper and deeper, riding
our bestial passion, mindlessly cumming, music building into
thunderous waves of rhythm, bursting over us and through us, minds and
bodies driven to the perpetual motion of fuck-lust, until we both
passed into the deafening, ethereal music of blackness and exhaustion.


I awoke to her hands touching my hair. 

"I hate you, you bitch, and it only makes me want you more," she
snarled, pulling me into another searing kiss. She began to tremble
and broke away, pushing me onto the couch. 

I stared into her deep black eyes of obsidian oblivion with unabashed
hunger. She was crying. She had lost. And she knew that I knew. "You
can't stop it Laura. I tried and it's too fucking strong." 

I felt a wave wash over my head and shook it. Cascades of pure white
hair swirled around my belly and hips. So, she had discovered that
trick. Apparently we were subject to the whims of our partners now. I
smiled into her glare and closed my eyes briefly, imaging the most
outrageous vision I could bring to mind.

I sat back, playing gently with my over-sensitive clit as the skin of
her body shaped itself to my whims. Her torso and tits turned a deep
shade of incredibly shiny, reflective purple. It wasn't like lingerie,
it was her *skin* that changed. Her waist pulled in, her breasts grew
and thrust outward obscenely, like orbs of grapefruit, and her
aureoles and nipples changed to the same lovely black obsidian glass
as her eyes. Panic hit her face, but her traitorous hands roamed down
her body, her nerve endings suddenly a hundred times more sensitive,
and I felt a swell of orgasmic pulses in my tongue as I saw each
little goosebump raise on her ample, violet bosom. She tried to speak,
but could only mumble out vague surprise that turned into moans as her
body betrayed her yet again. I realized with a muted start that I had
grabbed one of the Black Objects and had begun to slowly fuck my cunt.


"So fucking *good*, Laura, yesssssss..." I sighed as I waited for the
vision to come to life that would transform her life forever. Her
whole body shot forward at the waist and her hands found two more of
the chill black glass captors. 

"Noooooooo..." she rasped, overcome with both revulsion and carnal
depravity. 

I could see that she was trying to hold her hands away from herself.
At the same time I could *see* the waves of lascivious corruption flow
up into her arms, into her body, into her cunt, down her legs,
stopping halfway up her neck, as her body betrayed her suddenly hollow
morality. Her hands, like a relentless, teasing lover, lifted the
objects in front of her face and then lowered them to the tops of her
breasts, pressing them deep into her flesh. 

>*spark*< 

I began moving the object faster and faster in and out of my cunt.
Through the slick half-mist of wanton pleasure I saw her pressing and
staring at my lewd performance. I was building to something beyond the
orgasms even this chill black sliver had given me, a place where
reason had no purpose, where sanity was beyond memory. Music pulsing,
pushing, faster and faster. in. out. in. out. in. out. in. out. in.
out. in. out. in. out. in. out. in. out. 

Laura's nipples spewed out high pressure streams of thick golden fluid
as the Black Objects disappeared *inside* the flesh of her breasts,
hitting my face, in my mouth, over my cunt, and I felt my entire body
*cum* in unison with my tongue and clit, losing control, losing
thought as the heavenly scream of Laura's ecstasy drove the black,
maniacal music to a fever pitch... 

Images. Laura. My bare slick mound. Tongue tasting Laura's pussy and
asshole. Eyes gone silver. Melon sherbet mixed with lemon meringue.
Tongue cumming. Licking Laura licking Rachel. Black. Music. Clit so
long. Tongue sliding deeper. Deeper. Cum. Lust. Fuck. Slick. Black.
Glass. Obey. Lips. Obey. Fire. Object. Fuck. Obey. Cum. Surrender.
Obey. Cummmmmmmmmmmmm... -- 

***************************

Laura and I sat across from each other in the living room. We didn't
speak for a long time. It wasn't just from not knowing what to say; we
had to wait for the tongues we had lengthened to regain a size
suitable for something other than teasing every orifice on each
other's bodies. 

Finally, she said, "Tho whadh dtho we dtho nowl?"

I had to laugh, and she shook hard, finally bursting out herself.
After waiting a few more minutes, I answered, "Well, we certainly
can't go out in public. No one could possibly understand the process
we've been through. On the other hand, I have no inclination to go
backwards." 

I could see agreement in her hungry smile. 

Laura and I sat in reflection and contemplation for some time. Not
nearly the days we had spent in glorious rapture (only stopping on
occasion to eat and drink), but for at least a good twenty minutes. It
was all I could do to not walk over and drink from her Black Object
enhanced breasts, starting it all over again. 

*Not now,* I thought, *but soon.* 

"I suppose," she said, breaking the silence, "that it would be out of
the question to 'teach' people, wouldn't it..." 

"Totally unethical," I agreed, feeling my tongue go slick and chill at
the thought. "I'll be right back," I said, and left the room. 

When I came back with a bucket and folded towel, Laura had her legs
spread wide, playing with her long, sensual, hypersensitive,
delectably purple clit. I opened and laid out the towel that contained
the three remaining Black Glass Objects we had cleaned and gotten lost
in and worshipped and cleaned again for the last three days. 

I jerked as I felt the Black Obsidian Objects within my own breasts
*spark* in anticipation (thanks to a lovely payback from Laura). "Get
ready," I said quietly to Laura. "This is gonna hurt for a little
while," I continued, as I pulled a hammer out of the bucket and one by
one, writhing in unimaginable agony, smashed my little slick black
glass pleasure demons to bits.

***************************

It's been six months since we sent out our little seductive
sculptures. It took an incredible amount of self-discipline to change
each other to a presentable state in order to make sure our little
"packages" were safely sent, but we managed. 

We decided to use the airlines. 

It was expensive, but virtually untraceable. All we had to do was buy
tickets to different destinations, check the luggage with illegibly
written tags (which the agents never checked), and let destiny take
its course. While lost luggage was a possibility, I knew that every
bag would be picked up. The Black Objects don't ever let themselves be
ignored for long. 

We did have one near misadventure, though. Our number came up randomly
for a luggage x-ray check, and when Allison, the perky little ticket
agent saw only a single banana shaped shadow on her screen, she just
*had* to take a look.

And then a touch. 

And then a taste. 

Laura and I had quite a time getting her out of that situation. Well,
not quite "out" of it. In fact, you'll have to excuse me - Laura and
Allison are in the next room fucking again, and my tongue is dripping
melon sherbet slickness all over my keyboard.

I've got go 'tend to my friends'. I'm sorry but I'm sure you
understand that 'doing' is much more important than 'typing' about all
this.

Please don't think badly of me. Don't think that I was irresponsible
or hateful in bringing the Black Glass into the world. Don't think
that this is Armageddon or something weirdly dramatic. I'm writing
this so you all understand how close we all are to our minds touching
something huge and wonderful.

Our world is changing. Be a part of it. Besides, it's much more fun
once you're willing.

One last thing - if you find yourself in the presence of a small,
strange, stylized banana-shaped black glass sculpture - after you
finally find the time to think again, give your tongue a little bite,
think of me, and *cum.*


----
*Please feel free to send any comments and/or feedback to
cats_sara@yahoo.com.  I hope that this little journey has given you a
bit of pleasure.  Most of all, thanks to EyeofSerpent, who has
graciously allowed me for a time to participate in a wonderfully
erotic tale...

- Sara*



http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Sara_H/www/

-- 
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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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