At first the situation unnerved me, much like putting on a too-tight sweater. I stretched and groaned but it refused to give. My lungs struggled trying to breathe against the restriction. It was a stubborn fucker, testing my resolve.
Someone once said the harder you fight, the harder the fight. So I relaxed. I let my mind go blank and thought of other things. Waves for some asinine reason entered my head. But not just any waves. These waves were blood red tinged with a sea foam of pink. Ghastly if you considered my immediate situation.
I shook my head and attempted it again. My muscles quivered wanting to flex, but it was too soon. Think happy… no… better thoughts. Sunshine. Radiant rays of sun streamed over my body. Something smoked. A fire? From where? Oh shit. Think of something else. Quick.
The moon… dark starry skies… a foul wind. A rancid stench so powerful it would turn the stomachs of weaker men, but somehow it enticed me. It had a life of its own, a taste. I licked my lips basking in the flavor.
My spirit calmed. The weight on my chest began to ease a bit.
Did anyone truly value the ability to breathe? I knew it was a dumb ass question, but when you’re in a precarious spot dumb shit creeps through your head. Personally, I thought breathing was overrated. It’s a given, right? Something your lungs were born to do, no one taught you how to breathe. Even animals do it on instinct. But what would happen if someone wrapped you in a material so tight that breathing stopped? Your heart continued to beat, your brain continued to function, but you couldn’t catch air?
This train of mundane dribble was fucking with me. I lifted my arm and stared long and hard. Slowly the ethereal bonds tethering me to the other side lost their purchase. I yearned to be free, but this tightness gripping me needed to let up.
Think of something else, something pleasurable. Like the time I discovered my true ability. That was indeed a gratifying experience.
In my youth I slipped through life, never enjoying much of anything. I stood on the outskirts of humanity waiting for the moment someone would choose me, but no one ever did. Children can be a cruel lot. It wasn’t until I matured that someone finally cast an eye in my direction.
It was a cold night when she asked for a retreat from reality. I was delighted to indulge her need… she was so needy. She wore despair like a winter coat. It draped over her shoulders and colored all her actions. My actions were swift. One taste energized me. The elements came together. Her humanity reached out to me in the form of a gossamer thread, twisting and turning in the air. I breathed in all it offered. My vaporous existence exuviated, and I became the stuff of nightmares. I became.
Ah, yes, the fit has improved.
Tonight came close to recreating that first time. Emerging from the darkness was orgasmic. She summoned me into the light and I answered. Desire swept across her nubile body. I inhaled as if my existence depended upon it and it did. The moment I exhaled her body shuddered and darkness replaced her light. I don’t remember her name or the location of the room. My only memory is release, a blissful release. Nothing ever came close to the ecstasy I experienced that night, until now.
Oh… much better. It slipped over me.
My muscles rippled beneath the surface. My body exhaled with a joyous shudder. I ached to keep it, so much better than the last one.
The longer I wore it, the better the fit. I ran my hand over it appreciating the sheen, the glow. My head rocked back and I looked over to the bed. A tanginess, like an ambrosia, lingered on my lips. Her body, bloodied and reeking, shimmered in the dark.
She had such pretty skin.