Mind Taker - Part Two

As I approach the laundry in the basement the ad thankfully stops, the brief pause between the unskippable advert and video allowing me to hear the relatively quiet hallway through the cheap plastic of my ear buds.

The low rumble of the driers seem louder than normal, the rattling of metal on metal and the rubber feet against the tile floor causing me to remove my headphones. I cock my eyebrow as I listen to the machines from down the hallway, the discordant sound leaving me mildly confused.

"Are they all being..." I begin to mutter, freezing up as I hear a pain gasping and grunting coming from within the room. My heart catches in my throat, the dim flickering overhead light in the laundry and flowing out into the hallway only adding to the horror movie vibes that claw at the fringes of my mind.

As I approach I hear the gagging and gasping grow both louder and softer at the same time, the utterances growing weaker and weaker while I draw closer to their source. Steeling myself I poke my head around the corner, my heart skipping a beat and a cold sweat breaking out across my body as I spot my upstairs alt neighbor braced up against one of the washing machines.

The young woman in her early twenties stands at around five foot six, her hazel eyes darting about in a panicked frenzy as droplets of sweat run down her face. Her lips, coated in a fresh layer of black lipstick, rest parted as drool slowly drips from her mouth. Her nose appears slightly rosy, the thick black metal ring running through the septum chilling it in the cold winter air, her ear lobe stretching out thanks to the wide black plastic discs resting inside them.

Her build is rather plain, slender with a modest bust beneath her plain white button up shirt stained with coffee grounds. It is enhanced by her tattoos and piercings however, an intense amount of black ink covering her arms and neck while all manner of rings and studs dot her lip, ears, and nose.

Her lower body is clad in a set of black slacks or suit pants, the dim light of the room making it hard to tell the difference, her scrawny legs and small pert rear making the tight fabric appear painted on. A large set of black boots adorn her feet, the thick leather soles granting her no small amount of additional height.

Her whole body convulses and quivers, her wiry lean muscles cramping and twitching against the young woman's will as small pained gasps and distressed garbles slip from her throat. A small black plastic clips rests at the back of her neck, the tiny onboard LED flickering wildly as the scent of hot plastic quickly fills the room. A slender bundle of wires trace their way down from the device, the various colorful strands having been fused together into a single plug at the end.

I slowly trace the cable with my gaze, moving over the washing machines and the filthy apron resting next to Gracie, a short gasp escaping my lips as I spy a figure looming in the darkness.

"Fiona?..." I whisper, my stomach churning as I watch my ex rest up against one of the jostling dryers, her soft and somewhat doughy frame jiggling slightly as she giggles excitedly.

Her silky black hair hangs just around her ears, the messy mass appear uncombed and sweaty after who knows how long. Her slightly upturned button nose holds up a set of squashed down rectangular black framed glasses, the lens amplifying her icy blue eyes.

A loose black t-shirt hangs sling down one of her shoulders, the familiar stolen five foot four frame. She had put on some weight after we broke up when I was made redundant and it seems like she had kept it on, the supple plush only making her seem more cuddly and adorable as her belly and hips bulge slightly beneath the shirt.

A set of light gray sweatpants cover her soft squishy behind and legs, the extremely loose and comfortable leg wear doing much to hide any weight and flab that may have accumulated below. Her legs end in a cheap set of runners, the old and oftly used set practically falling apart after years of ownership.

The wires trace up behind her head, her eyelids twitching and her pupils dilating and retracting with each body quaking shiver that seems to run through Gracie's rigid form.

The soft nerdy woman in her late twenties broaching her thirties can't help but nervously giggle, her face twitching as she too gasps and yelps as her doughy form shudders beneath her. I watch as her right arm suddenly goes limp, her eyes going wide as she scrambles to get herself into a more solid stance against the dryer.

"Oh..." she croaks, glancing to her seemingly lifeless arm before looking over at Gracie. Fiona's jaw drops as Gracie's right arm begins to rise up, her fingers splaying out and wiggling as the older of the two woman struggles to stifle an excited squeal of delight. "...This is..." Fiona continues, her words falling away and shifting into a faint garbled mess of syllables as her eyes seem to grow unfocused.

Gracie's terrified gaze glues itself to her joyously shifting limb, watching in terrible awe as her hand seems to twist and turn to show off her tattoos and various pieces of silvery jewelry to herself.

 Suddenly, with a flurry of motion I watch as Gracie reaches up with her left hand, grabbing the small black device at the back of her neck before peeling it off with a loud pained hiss. With tears filling her eyes she staggers into the center of the room, staggering slightly as she whips around to look at the shorter doughy woman who stands oddly rigidly and with a vague sense emptiness behind her glasses-enhanced eyes.

"You... you fucking bitch..." Gracie cries, wheezing as she holds a hand to the back of her neck. "What the... what the fuck did you do to..." she screams, pausing as her lips twist into a faint grin before snapping back to her angry and shocked expression.

Her shock only builds as her right hands begins to pat at her body, squeezing her pert rear before running over her slender hips and narrow waist in an almost loving fashion. A murmuring purrs reverberates from her throat, her right hand snapping closed over her mouth as she staggers over and straight into one of the washing machines with a loud grunt.

"Owie..." whines the pale goth girl, her tone sounding entirely different than a moment ago before a familiar giggle slips from her lips.

"Who..." she wheezes, whipping her head around in shock as the grin quickly returns and remains plastered across her face. "Where are..."

"In here silly" Gracie coos, her hips wiggling in excitement as she pushes herself up and away from the washing machine. She staggers back, struggling to stand on her long slender legs and the heavy thick soled shoes beneath her. Suddenly, she whips around, a leg moving out as though to run while the other remains standing as she tumbles to the floor with a thud.

"Why can't... I..." the pierced pale young woman groans, straining to speak through her broad and giddy grin. The goth girl rubs at her arm, having crashed into it on the way down to the tiled floor, her eyes going wide as she spots her tattoos.

"I've always wanted something like this" she coos softly, running her fingers along the dark lines covering the back of her hand like a web. She quickly reaches up, prodding at her lip and nose piercing before putting a whole finger through the stretcher in her ear lobe with a nervous laugh. "And these... though that's too freak..."

"Out!" the girl screams, a hand rising to muffle her mouth until the outburst comes under control.

"Stop fighting this Gracie" snaps the goth, pursing her lips just as my ex had done whenever we fought. "This is for the best, you never put in enough effort..." she grumbles, slowly moving to stagger to her feet. "Even for a part time... oh my..." she sighs, bracing against her legs as the effects of her shift at the cafe seem to bear down on her.

"Ms... Ms Fi?..." Gracie wheezes, the tears in her eyes being wiped away without much thought.

"I can get you...us a better job. I can make sure we graduate top of the class" Gracie chuckles nervously, her hands returning to feel up her body as her finger sink into her modest bust. 

"I am not turning thirty next month..." she grumbles under her breath, glaring at the vacant expression on the soft bespectacled woman standing in the corner.

Lost in thought at the sight before me I don't notice my grip slipping on the basket in my hand, the wicker container filled with clothes suddenly falling to the floor with a loud crack. The goth and I both jump in surprise, my ex not reacting at all as both Gracie and myself stare at each other in shock.

"H...Hi!" the young woman squeals, her eyes darting around as she clutches at her hand as though to keep it under control. "I mean... Hey Jordan... can I HELP you?" she blurts out, her voice taking on a panicked tone for just one word before returning to normal.

"I...uh..." I mutter, slowly picking up my basket and backing up slightly. "I was just gonna... laundry but, I mean, it seems kinda..." I mumble out, watching as the goth slowly inches closer to me on unsteady steps.

Her stride outpaces my own back peddling rather quickly. I watch as Gracie quickly approaches me...