Dream

I'm having the dream again. I walk in the rain, with a thick fog around me. I can't see a sky, I can't see any walls. My feet splash through the all-encompassing half-inch puddle. I would reflect off the water, if raindrops didn't plop down and send ripples everywhere. My hair is damp, my clothes are soaked and cling to my skin, my nipples stiff from the cold. I can feel the floor through the puddle. It's glass-like, but not slippery.

I'm going in one direction. I always go in one direction, though I can't tell directions in this rainy mist. I know it's the same direction because I always arrive at the same place.

It emerges from the mist as I get closer to it. It's a room in the rain. Its glass floor is raised, with glass steps up to the platform. 4 black square pillars at the corners hold up the black roof. Inside, a sheetless black bed and an occupied black stuffed chair stand, lonely. The uniform grey perpetrates even the room.

I always walk up the steps. I'm doing it now. My feet exit the flooded world and step onto a flat translucent panel, water droplets dripping from my soles.

As my feet touch upon the floor, the chair's occupant stirs. She opens her yellow eyes, lights like the headlights of a car, to stare at me. "Don't you hate it when it rains?" she asks in a smooth, synthetic voice.

I don't answer. I never can. My first dream ended here. The dreams since continued onwards, each going further than the last. I feel mechanical in them. A thing is asked of me without asking and I comply.

The woman stretches lazily and stands up. She is graceful, but she is inhuman. Her skin is a smooth silver, and she is completely bald. Her feet are like high-heeled shoes, propped up on a strut with a blunt triangular toe. She is improbably curved, with ample buttocks and firm, almost spherical breasts. A black x-shaped harness covers her nipples, and a black thong covers her snatch. There is a strip of cloth on the back of the thong covering her buttocks.

But what makes this woman inhuman is her belly, and what it exposes. She is missing her body from ribcage to pelvis, and she only has a metal spinal column there. Her entire body is synthetic and fleshless. She is a machine in the shape of a woman.

She moves and stands in front of me. She is taller than me. She places her hands around my shoulders and directs me closer to the chair. Her fingers pick with the buttons on my pajama top, and it falls to the floor. Her fingers play with the buttons on my pants, and it slides off. I am left naked, soaked from the rain, in front of this woman. She smiles in delight.

She picks up a towel that blends in with the chair. Slowly, she rubs me down, drying me off. The towel rubs around my shoulders, neck, head, arms. It tickles and strokes my breasts and my nipples. It rubs down my cheeks and legs, and rubs my feet dry. She is close to me while she dries me. Her breasts casually bump into my back. I can feel stiff buttons under that harness.

She drops the towel to the floor and brings me to the bed. I lay on my back on it. It's automatic. I don't think I have ever struggled or tried to do something else. She sits down next to me, looking at me fondly, before she bends over and kisses me.

Her dark grey lips do not taste like anything. I don't know why she kisses me. But the contact is over. She moves down. Her dark grey tongue, mysteriously moist, grazes my throat. The tongue wavers down to my collarbone and between my breasts. They're aching now, and my snatch is hot as well.

Her tongue traces my belly button, fondling it. It travels down more, past my bush. My legs splay open willingly. The first past of her tongue sent shivers down my spine. Each time it feels as good.

She strokes my rose-lips gently, her tongue playing in my folds. She gently passes over my clit, now grown hard from her attention. Each pass makes my body tingle with pleasure.

Her hands are on my hips as she digs into me. Her tongue drags up and down, sliding along my moist crevice. I can feel the beautiful sensation growing from my loins, and I focus on it. It feels like the only thing that matters in this place.

I can feel myself getting closer as she licks my pussy. The undeniable pleasure, the unavoidable pressure. I do nothing to myself. I just let her continue working on me.

She stops licking. I look down, and she catches my glance. Her eyes are playful, but it feels like there is always something else behind them. She pulls up her body. Her hands slide the harness of her shoulders, then pulls the loosened fabric over her head and lets it fall to the floor. Her dark grey nipples are hard and erect. She is in as much the same state as I am.

She gets off the bed and turns her back to me. Her thumbs dig into the bands of her thong, and I watch the tail-like curtain slide to the floor as she takes it off. Her buttocks are as smooth as the rest of her.

She turns to face me. Her snatch is open and moist. I can see her dark grey lips and clit. She goes over me again, and sits on the bed. Our pelvises are close, on the same level. She slides one graceful leg over my body, and slides my leg over her curled leg.

Arms behind her to support, her hips move forward. We touch, a light graze that sends shocks down my spine. I can see her face above her luscious breasts. Her eyes are closed and her mouth is open slightly.

I want to moan when she starts rubbing against me. I can feel her lips kissing mine down there. Our slickness is mingling together, our clits rubbing together. It's a fire, a pleasurable heat that grows and numbs me.

As she grinds into me, my hands slide up to my breasts. My teats, perfectly erect, ache for attention. Mutely I grab them, feel my own smooth skin, and let the pleasure in from there.

We arch in towards each other. We press our hips against each other harder. I want to feel her against all of me. My lips are parted in a silent moan, but I can hear her. Hers are synthetic, smoothened static noise played with each little thrust.

Our lips, our roses, grinding together is all there is to me. Her clit, my clit, together, rubbing together, numbing everything else. Our waterfalls intermingling, waters stirring together. Rushing, sliding together. I push into her as much as she pushes into me.

One final slide, and my mind goes blank. There is only the pleasure, the heat excusing itself from my body. Loosely, through our contact, I feel her still, gone still. She is unmoving, a smile on her lips, lost in pleasure like I am.

I've never gotten this far. I should be surprised. The dream always ended before our climax before. Instead, I feel satisfied as the orgasm dies down.

We break contact, and I sit up. Her fingers catch my chin and we kiss, if only for a short while. She stands up and puts her clothes back on, what little to it there is. I find myself standing up, as silently as ever, and put my pajama top and pants back on.

There is a set of double-doors in the place now, against the back. It is black, and resembles emergency exit doors without the window or handle. There is still the grey fog, and the raim clearly splashes against the world-wide puddle.

She returns to her chair and sits in it. Her legs raise and cross themselves. I go to the door, but look back. Her head is turned, and I can see one yellow light-eye. It looks sad. "Don't you hate it when it rains?" she asks.

I want to say no, but my silence still prevails. Deep down, I think it's a yes. I open the doors and leave.