Once more I'm met with the loud squeaking of plastic and sloshing of our liquefied forms, the shadow of an arm wrapping around us and shifting as the lights overhead pass us by. I try to make things out, the thump of car doors and the roaring of an engine being readily recognizable while the muffled chatter around me simply fades into a wall of noise.
In a flurry of motion the packaging is torn to shreds as a hand begins to snatch out the bottles one by one. The constant sickening motion makes it hard to make anything else, the sight of other neatly stacked packs of bottled water only momentarily sticking with me as I feel myself churning and my vision blurring with the ever present movement.
With another loud thud I find myself finally being able to come to rest, my unstable and sloshing form stilling swirling for a moment as the world around me spins slowly back into view. Focusing my vision I strain to make sense of the world around me, my warped vision struggling to take in the Long running track stretching out ahead of me, the bottle having been placed next to the finish line.
With a loud crack of a starting pistol the ground begins to rumble, a wall of sound and agitation causing my world to rock and shift into a distorted blur. Faceless figures shift in the crowed bleachers nearby, each wearing bright primary colors as they cheer on the oncoming racers.
In a flash its all over, the hammering footfalls growing terrifyingly close before racing past in a blur. As the runners slow their pace the violent shaking slowly comes to a quiet end.
"FUCK!" screams a voice, the sound coming from a stomping figure as they make their way over towards me. Her voice with bright and full of passion, a slight nasal whine whistling out as she shouts. My world suddenly shifts as a lightly tan hand rips me up from the ground.
"Nobody likes a sore loser Caitl..." another voice chides, warm and soothing yet with an obviously cocky energy.
Suddenly, I feel myself slam into one side of the the and then the other. The plastic buckles and crunches as it hits the ground, the rough dirt track providing little in the way of cushioning as the cheap plastic prison is pushed to its limit.
"RIGHT!" shouts a booming voice, my gelatinous body quivering on instinct as the commanding tones of the older woman ring out over the field. "Caitlyn Marshal Stewart! Go cool off!"
"But..." whines the chirpy voice, only to be cut off shouting of the older woman once again.
"Now!" she barks, my bottle quickly being snatched up from the track as I'm carried elsewhere.
The cheering of the crowd quickly fades as the sound of angry stomping footfalls soon take their place. From the dirt track, to grass and then to pavement, the steady and powerful strides ring out as I begin to spot a pair of heavily worn white sneakers lurching past the bottom of the bottle.
A loose neon green singlet acts like a curtain around me, my transparent cell being pressed and held against the poorly fitted top. Before long the harsh baking heat of the sun vanishes, the sound of a door being kicked open soon leading me into a quiet an echo-filled room.
"Fucking Marissa" the bright voice snaps, grunting as my bottle is hurled across the fluorescent light filled room. I clatter to the floor with another crumpling slam, the sight of pale blue tiles filling half my vision as lockers line the walls.
As my strangely warped vision slowly stabilizes, I watch as my seeming abuser rips open one of the lockers causing the thin metal door to shake and rattle. Scowling intensely she begins to search through the locker, grabbing a towel and bottle of soap before slamming the door closed again.
It's difficult to tell from my warped vision, but the young woman is undoubtedly on the taller side and easily stands at around five foot eight or even nine. Her long pale blonde hair is pulled back into the tightest of ponytails, a black hairband holding back any errant strands from getting into her dark brown eyes. She slender and narrow jaw line and dimpled cheeks give her an almost cute appearance, the delicate features marred by a bend in the bridge of her button nose and a small pink scar running across it.
As she strides over she quickly begins to rip off the green tank top, hurling the cheap synthetic and heavily worn garment aside. She toned and slender body is bound lightly in a set of skin tight running sorts and a top that could better be considered a bra. Each item is a blend of dark gray and black, sections of material and accenting lines. The top holds her chest seemingly painfully tightly, her breasts remaining almost rock solid with each of her steps. The shorts however reveal a set of long and powerful legs, her thick and muscular calves and thighs flexing as she stomps over towards me.
The girl barely breaks her stride as she snatches me up from the floor, another series of curse words ringing out as she pushes open a cubicle door revealing a small shower.
"That bitch didn't even need to run in the semis..." she huffs, slamming the door behind her as she violently grabs at the top. "I'm dehydrated Ms Cameron..." she chirps in a mocking and dismissive tone, whipping the sports bra over to a small wooden shelf as her perky sizeable bust falls free. "I'm tired Ms Caaaaamron" she continues, wriggling her flared hips free from the tight confines of her shorts as they cling to her sweat drenched body for dear life.
Her athletic frame is covered in distinct tan lines, her light tan ending right where the running gear had been moments ago. Her sweat soaked skin is otherwise remarkably pale ,the subtle tan likely being the extent she can muster before burning to a crisp. With a slight yelp she tugs at the hairband, her long blonde hair tumbling down to her shoulder blades as she yanks out several strands along with the tight black band.
With a thud I find myself placed beside the discarded clothes as the bottle of soap is dropped alongside me. With a crackling hiss the room fills with the round of running water, the young woman jumping under the powerful stream with a wince as she begins to shiver. Her small ghostly pale pink nipples soon stand at attention in the frigid cold, her shaking hand reaching back to adjust the faucet as she cools herself off.
Finally, a sigh of relief slips from her lips as she flashes just the faintest of smiles. Her hand slaps over to the shelf, snatching up the bottle of soap as she begins to bring it to her lips. Catching her mistake she lets out a frustrated grumble, pouring out a small blob of faint purple goo into her hand as she quickly begins to lather herself.
"I'm so fucking..." she sighs with exhaustion, her voice sounded drained beyond belief once all the excitement and anger was gone. Her sud covered hand quickly snatches at my bottle, grabbing it from the shelf as she places the soap back. "...And still cold?" she muses, shaking me slightly before twisting off the lid.
As she bring the top of the bottle to her lips I feel something surge inside me, the feeling of warmth and of her breath against my liquefied form basically calling to me. For a second I hear a scream, my whole body lurching up and out the top of the bottle as I frantically begin to worm and writhe my way towards that cozy and desperately needed warmth, before suddenly the world goes dark.
Feeling around in the darkness my... hand? limb? something brushes up against... something else. It's hard to describe, the object feeling full to burst and imposing as I lazily slide over it. It's warm though, and comforting to he touch.
After a moment however I'm shoved back as something lashes out, whatever was housed inside and wrapping itself around... whatever it is sensing my presence and violently trying to force me back. However, as the strange force whips around it begins to feel my faint and the lashing more distant. With each growing frantic motion the presence begins to slip away, its grip on its home failing it bit by bit.
Inching forward as brush against the object again, my phantasmal limb feeling the large and homey thing properly for the first time. It feels almost hollow, or at least the various ridges and chasms carved into it make it feel hollow, the slowly emptying space practically calling out to me to fill it.
The other presence quickly begins to fade as I slink over to the object, wrapping myself around it as I feel a warmth in my chest and breath filling my lungs for the first time in seemingly forever. I ooze into the crevices and gaps, my entire form slowly coming to rest in he strange space as I feel as though I'm about to fall asleep in a warm and comfortable bed.
With a coughing spasm I come to, my drenched naked body wracking itself with a violent bout of hacking coughs. Hair clings to my face and back, every muscle in my body aching from a full day of constant strain, and worst of all my sinuses feel filled to bursting.
With a deep breath I huff though my nose, my fit and firm abdominal clenching as I wheeze out another body rocking series of coughs. With a wet pop I feel something launch from my nose as I watch a thick clear glob of goo...
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