Phorever Phicen
by BTB
I'm not sure when I first became conscious of the dark.
It felt new, and at the same time... like it had always been there. I don't know where it came from or how I found myself enveloped by it. Even in the darkest of nights, I'd never known what true nothingness felt like... and it was maddening.
Hours passed into what I could only assume where days... and those passed in to weeks... I think. There was only the dark. Occasionally I'd hear voices, muffled and distant. I'd try to cry out to them... only to find I couldn't scream. I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. I didn't realize it at first, but my eyelids didn't even blink.
Now and then, even though the darkness remained fixed and constant, it felt like I was being tossed about, spun and often weightless. It made me think of riding Space Mountain, except this wasn't thrilling.
This was terrifying.
My mind craved sustenance, but my stomach never seemed to need it. I had to shake my psychological need to breath, because I clearly wasn't taking any breaths.
Christ... what I wouldn't give for a cigarette.
Am I dead? Is this my coffin? Did my 'soul,' ...whatever that means, fail to move on... or is this just what happens to everyone? Left in the dark while the worms and time eat us away... until there's nothing left to hold our consciousness. What happens then?
If there's a hell, how could it be any worse than this? I couldn't even sleep through it. Just slowly going mad inside my own lifeless corpse. Left to wallow in my own company and tortured by fading memories, all I had to save me from the endless... consuming... void. But even those faded away as my mind continued to unravel. Was my brain rotting away, or was the unending, uncompromising nothingness taking my sanity?
Then... after what felt like eons, a popping noise released a single beam of light into my cold, empty world. It was a large blade of some make, cutting through the black and releasing a quickly growing band of light. My eyes didn't need to adjust after having spent so much time in darkness, a feeling you would never know felt strange until you had to experience it. I couldn't move my head, but I could see that my surroundings were made of cardboard and packing peanuts the size of barrels. Was this how I was to be disposed of? In a cardboard box? If so, why was I being removed now?
If my heart was beating, it may have stopped. Enormous meaty fingers reached into the box above me ripped the rest of the darkness away with their unbelievable power. I wanted to run, to hide, to obey my fight or flight instincts.... but I couldn't move. I couldn't blink.
High above the massive fingers was the glowing face of what must have been God. Oddly enough, God appeared to work a blue collar job judging by the polo and name tag. He was good looking in the face, blue eyes, a greying beard, crows feet around the eyes that I always found so handsome and distinguished on a man. Even from my angle I could tell he was working hard on a beer gut. Those same large fingers reached in and lifted me out of my plastic prison with a loud pop.
I found myself rushing upwards, closer to the man's face. I realized then that, even though I couldn't move, I could feel. I could feel the air moving past me at incredible speed. I could feel the pressure of his immense fingertips at my sides. I can't lie, as afraid as I was at that moment, experiencing anything other than the nothingness felt... exhilarating.
Before I knew it his face was uncomfortably close. I wanted to wiggle away, to scream at him to release me at once. But I couldn't. I couldn't even shut my eyes in terror. The man inspected me from head to toe, turning me over... and over again. His trunk-sized fingers probed my legs... then my ass.. then my breasts. I felt so violated... I wanted to scream so badly. He caressed my cheeks and stroked my hair, something that should have made my blood run cold... but did I still have any blood left?
Finally, the giant man spoke, "Hello there, little Mary."
Who was this monster?! What had he done to me?! Jesus, he already had a name for me?! Then I realized I couldn't actually remember what my name was...
The entire world around us was oversized and frightening. It was too much to process with my fixed stare. I would have fainted... if my useless body would let me. If only I could shut my eyes. But the oppressive awareness continued as my inspection went on. I felt him manipulate my arms and legs, bending them for the first time in god knows how long. He moved my head around on my neck and wigged my torso back and forth at the hips. As much as I hated and feared what was happening, feeling the atrophy being broken out of my limbs felt so good, even if I couldn't do it myself.
"Well, what do you say we go try you out," the giant said.
What the hell does that mean?!
I felt his warm fingers wrap around my entire body. He began to walk down an enormous corridor, his great footfalls echoing like thunder against the walls. That's when we entered another enormous, cluttered space... with a bed in the middle of it.
Oh god no... please no...
I kept trying to claw out of my own reality, but there was no escape. He tossed me down on the bed from such a terrifying height. You don't know what it is to need to scream and not be able to. To feel all the pain of an impact but not be able to hold yourself in agony. To have your eyes held open in petrification and not be able to cry.
The giant stood over me like a skyscraper, the look of lust blazing in his eyes. He removed his shirt and tossed it aside, revealing his mountainous gut. His unbuckled pants slid from his wide hips and hit the floor.
Please no... please don't do this...
His boxers came next, revealing an enormous appendage emerging from a thick, black tuft that was already eager to play. In that moment, he scooped me back up and jumped into bed. The world shook around me as he settled into a comfortable, well-worn spot. He continued to clench me in his powerful fist, just staring at me. When I could finally make out the way his gut was jiggling beneath me in of my peripheral vision, as well as his intensifying breathing... I knew he was pleasuring himself. I felt so disgusted, so helpless... and all the while, our eyes were locked as he worked himself over.
His enormous slobbering maw nearly enveloped my entire head as he kissed, or rather sucked on my face. His breath felt hot and moist. His unkempt beard scratched at my body. If my stomach worked, I'm sure I would have wretched. His breathing only got heavier and the vibrations more intense. Suddenly, he pulled me away from his face and began to bend my arms around in bizarre ways. My legs curved out at the knees and met at my toes. My arms did the same, like he was preparing me to climb a tree...
Oh no. No no no no no...
Once again I was whisked through the air at lightning speed as his fleshy trunk found its way into my arms.
Oh god... this can't really be happening... please make this stop.
His massive hand wrapped enveloped me as well as the meat I was pressed against, which was already dripping with pre. Vigorously he worked me against him while I begged whatever higher being that may be listening to my thoughts to please make it end soon. Just as the rumble growing in the shaft began to grow towards climax, he lifted me slightly higher so my breasts teased against his mushroom tip when the inevitable eruption occurred. His hot, sticky load hit me hard in the face. I couldn't close my eyes, so I couldn't wipe the lingering burn from them. I wanted to cry so desperately. He just held me there against his retreating glans, covered in his disgusting seed while he caught his breath.
Then something completely unexpected happened...
When he finally let his brain come down from his massive orgasm, he opened his eyes and looked directly at me... and cried. He cried. Good, I thought, you fucking rapist! You should be ashamed of yourself! I hope you burn in hell!
Oh wait... weren't we already there?
He pulled a few tissues out of the Kleenex box next to the bed and wiped himself off. Then he dabbed the... stuff... from my face and hair as best as he could. He stared into my eyes for quite a while afterward as he tried to get a hold of himself. It was as though he were looking for my forgiveness... he sure wasn't going to get it.
"I'm so sorry Mary... I shouldn't have done that. I was just... I was just so excited to see you when I opened that box'" he sobbed. "I won't let it happen again."
... the fuck?!
"Lets go get you cleaned off, ok?"
It's not like I had any say in it, did I?
He took me into the bathroom and clicked on the light. There, for the first time, I saw myself in the mirror. Under a thin coat of jism, of course, but there I was... sorta. It was definitely me looking back in the mirror... just... off somehow. That's when I noticed the joints. I hadn't noticed them when I was being rocked against his cock like a human pocket pussy, but there they were... plain as day. My wrists, my ankles... pivot joints... like on a doll-
No. Please no. It's not possible. How can this...? It's not possible .
My skin looked translucent, almost plastic... like, silicone... because it was silicone. My body still seems to be anatomically correct, but I was in better shape than I ever was in life. Even my face... it WAS my face, but I kept getting that creepy uncanny valley feeling... FROM MY OWN FACE! Once again... the need to cry... the need to hyperventilate... the need to shut my eyes from what I was seeing... GODDAMNIT, I NEEDED IT... but couldn't. Dear god, I couldn't.
The giant pervert soaped me up and cleaned me off with his horrible probing fingers, making sure no drop of his nasty semen was left on my body. I thought his cum burned when it hit my eyes, but the soap was so much worse. Just to close my eyes, just to relieve myself from the pain... it would have been more than I could ever ask for, but I just had to endure it.
Once satisfied, he toweled me off and left me on the counter for a while longer to fully dry. At least I had the towel underneath me and not just the cold, hard surface of the counter itself. Laying there, my gaze was fixed upon the ceiling, unable to see what my kidnapper was doing. The noises that came from him afterwards told me enough... that he was relieving himself in the toilet.
For the first time during this whirlwind I had a chance to try and gather my thoughts. Was this really happening? Was this some level of hell? Was this just a product of the deterioration of my mind even further? That had to be it... right?
With a cough and a flush, the giant returned to the sink where he cleaned his hands (at least) and then snatched me up again. We returned to the kitchen where he began rummaging through the box again. This time I could see what his place looked like. Mountains of trash piled up, towers of pizza boxes, piles of dirty clothes everywhere... what a fucking slob. I couldn't see what he was retrieving, but it wasn't long before we were on our way back to the bedroom.
Please god... don't let him use me like that again.
Instead of another horrendous view from his bed, this time he lifted me upwards and snapped something around my waist. I obviously couldn't bend my head down to see what it was, but the fact that I was still upright when he pulled his hands away meant it had to be some kind of stand. A stand... a display piece... that's what I was now. Nothing more than a toy to be used and admired by a gigantic creep who liked to play with dolls.
This truly was hell.
So there I sat... or stood... or was held, I guess... my feet didn't actually touch the floor. Once again the hours turned into days... the days into weeks. My singular view of my world wasn't the void, but to be honest... it wasn't much better. I couldn't sleep to pass the time, all I could do is stare ever forward.
Just a single smoke... I'd sell my soul for a single puff.
Or was that how I got here to begin with?
For the most part, the giant was good on his word and didn't violate me again. He'd touch me... caress my skin... pet my hair... hold me like a little pet. He'd talk to me every day like he knew me... like I was his fucking friend. He was so pathetic and lonely, I almost felt sorry for the poor bastard... almost. If I didn't have to watch him pleasure himself nightly to his weird-ass porn... and I mean weird, I may have been able to show him some compassion. At first I thought he had a kink for little girls, but soon realized that the small women I was seeing on his computer screen were photo manipulated or 3D renderings of adult women... just tiny. I guess that explains why he did what he did to me... not that it made me feel any better about it.
And every night, after he'd abused himself, he'd start crying again. "Oh Mary!" He'd wail out into the room or muffle it with his pillow. I don't know why he felt the need to call to me, his "Mary," during his little fits. Unless... unless I'm not Mary. Maybe she was someone important to him. Maybe he lost someone...
No! Stop it! This man is a monster... knock this Stockholm shit off right now!
With time... I couldn't help but let my troubled mind feel for the guy. My contempt evolved into pity and then, eventually... sympathy. He did seem to care about me, or whatever I represented to him. Even his touch that made me want to recoil so much... I began to... want it. Every day when he'd leave for work he would kiss the tops of his fingers and tap me lightly in the head and again when he got home. All I could experience was the same wide eyed view every second of every day... but I could feel... and any change to the status quo felt... I can't fully explain to you how I needed it... how I craved it. I guess that's what happens when you become a prisoner in your own body, or... some approximation of it. Christ!
And that's how things went on... for months. And through all that time, I still didn't know his name. This was my existence, and I had to make some kind of peace with it. What choice did I have? I dealt with it as best as I could. And then, one evening after he got home from work, everything changed.
The giant entered the bedroom as usual, except this time he had a package with him. This was new, even when he removed me from my own cardboard sarcophagus, he did so in the kitchen. His back was to me as he opened it, but being that even the smallest of changes were like Christmas to me, the suspense was tearing me apart. Even after he opened it, the edge of the shelf in front of me obscured my view. All I could see was his hand placing objects next to me one at a time. He'd place one, then his hand would return to the box and remove another of the mystery objects. Three trips in all.
Goddamnit! Whatever they are, they're right next to me and I can't simply turn my head to look. I could only imagine myself ripping my hair out in frustration. He stood there for a moment, admiring whatever his new acquisitions were, then he turned his gaze to me. He smiled politely and then his hands came for me and removed the pedestal.
"Don't worry Mary, I fully plan on keeping my promise to you," he said looking down at me in his grasp. It had been a while since he held me and I was mostly just enjoying the new sensations. To be honest, I'd almost forgotten his promise not to violate me again.
At that point, I think I would have welcomed it. To feel my arms wrapped around his manhood. Perhaps he might do it just so... that my own sex might graze his in the process... that I might feel something like that again... I wished I could feel what it was like to have my heart race again.
"...but... a man has needs..."
Oh god yes! It's going to happen! Please Tom... use me!
Tom?! How did I suddenly know his name?!
The extreme pressure of his fingertips pulling at my head snapped me out of my thoughts. I could feel my neck separating from my shoulders... it was pain like I'd never felt in my entire life... oh god, was he trying to kill me?!
Tom! Please! What-
Pop!
My head remained pinched between the firm vice of his fingertips while my body disappeared into his other hand. That's when he turned me enough to see what he'd just added to his collection. There were three heads, well sculpted... in fact extremely well sculpted. Each was clearly modeled after a different celebrity. The blonde was an almost photo-realistic representation of Scarlett Johansson. The redhead in the middle couldn't be anyone but Emma Stone. There was also a brunette, she looked familiar, but I couldn't remember the actress's name, not that I even cared in the moment.
The other two I understood, Tom always fancied them when...
...when we were together.
Oh my god... Tom!
It was like a fog or amnesia or whatever it was had been lifted from my brain. Maybe from the shock of having my head ripped from my body? My body... I couldn't feel it anymore... I couldn't feel Tom's touch... and it made me feel even more frightened... even lonelier in my living hell. He removed the Emma-head from the pedestal and placed mine in its place. I could actually feel the balled tip touch the inside of my skull as I came to rest upon it. Again, until you've had to experience it, it's hard to explain how unnerving something like that feels.
The bedroom that I had stared at everyday for months became familiar again... this was our house! It was hidden under layers and layers of filth, but this was our home! There! By the bed... on the night stand was a photo of the two of us. It'd been there all this time, just blurred in my periphery. The answers have all been right there in my face and I didn't piece them together. I remembered the day the photo was taken, walking the beach in Southern California. A stranger was kind enough to take it for us. We looked so happy...
...we were.
How long had I been gone? The house didn't get this way over night. Even Tom... there's so much more grey in his hair than I remember. He's gained so much weight. And his mental state... oh, Tom. He's come just as undone as I have.
I had to sit and watch as he popped this other head onto my body...
MY BODY! PLEASE, TOM... WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!
"Don't worry Mary, my love, I'm not going to make you watch... that would just be cruel."
Tom! Wait!
His fingers spun my head around, catching another quick glimpse of one of my shelf-mates before stopping with nothing but a blank wall to fill my view.
"Don't be angry with me... but I... it's too hard... it hurts to much to do it with you... to you... you just look too much like her. You... she's too precious to me. Don't worry, you'll get your body back as soon as I'm done."
Tom! It's me! I'm here! Tom!
It was his kink, of course... the tiny woman thing. I remember how frightened he was to tell me about it... that he loved and trusted me enough to share that part of himself with me... something he'd hidden for so long. I didn't fully understand it, but I accepted it... it seemed harmless enough. I was never one to turn my nose up at someone for enjoying porn, god knows I indulged myself. Sometimes I'd even throw on some of his much larger clothes so it looked like I was drowning in them, then walk into the living room in a playfully panicked state. It always put a smile on his face... and instantly put him in the mood.
With nothing but a blank wall to stare at and the sounds of the man I loved fucking another woman... er... another doll I guess, with my body... I retreated back into my mind once again. The flat plain of semi-gloss in front of me doubled as a movie screen and my mind as the projector for the greatest hits reel of my life. Growing up... going to college... meeting Tom... getting married... living our lives together... then...
...the cancer.
It was too late, it had spread through my lungs before I even knew there was a problem. My fucking habit, the one I couldn't just quit... even as many times as Tom tried to get me to. I thought it couldn't happen to me, but it did. Cancer is something that happens to old people and kids... it's something that happens to someone else. Not to me. It didn't take long before I was confined to a hospital bed on oxygen, hairless and frail.
Tom stayed by my side to my last breath. He took it much harder than even I was. Watching me die tore him apart, and when it came time to say our goodbyes, I could tell it would break him.
All I could do is assure him that this was only temporary... that we'd find each other again... and that I'd be watching over him until that day. Oh dear god! Is that what happened?! Did it take my soul... my consciousness... my essence this long to find a way back to him?
This isn't want I meant! Did I do this to myself?! Please! This isn't what I meant!
Tom finished. And just like every other time, he sobbed in his end,ESP purgatory of mourning. Just a few seconds of relief from his own perpetual misery was all he was looking for, but the shame and grief always returned, and it took him without mercy.
"Oh Mary! I'm sooooo sorry... I miss you so much... oh god! Mary! Please... god... aahhhhh... I love you Mary!"
Tom's heart wrenching cries hit me harder than they ever had. I wanted to hold him, to tell him how much I love him... to carry this wretched burden he's been cursed with.
But I can't. All I can do I stare unblinking into this new void, not dark and infinite like before, but immediate and eggshell white... the paint I had chosen for this room. So bland and lifeless.
Just like I am.
What I wouldn't give to shed a single tear...
"Oooooooh.... Mary..."
I'm here, Tom...
I'm here.
The End.