Tuesday, 19 July 2011

The Museum of Deviant Dreams (Part II)

We're back from a short break. More info and some pics, once the pics are Photoshopped... Meanwhile here's the second part of the story I started earlier. This section follows Dee's experiences when she goes through the second of the two doors, the one Jake didn't take.


Dee had slipped through the door marked “Enter at Your Own Risk”. What she found there was startling, certainly, but didn’t seem risky in any sense that she understood the word.

She was on a narrow walkway, fenced in on either side by wire mesh, lit from below by a chain of small lights. In the semi-darkness beyond the mesh, creatures surveyed her with interest. It wasn’t easy to tell what kinds of creatures they were supposed to be. Insectoid, she thought. Some appeared to be mannequins or, from the occasional movement of a head or arm, robots. A few, though, were human. They wore black latex bodysuits and hoods that might have started life as gas masks but now featured mandibles, antennae and strange balloon-like protuberances. And they had phallic members as well, though not all projected from crotches. They grew on chests, arms, in one case out of the top of a head and also from where she’d expect to see eyes. And how many phalluses end in a star, flower or fringe of small tentacles?

Hands and antennae reached through the mesh, stretched towards her. Dee dodged several before thinking it would be cool to give herself the experience. They stroked her gently. Dee giggled and turned, expecting Jake to be on the walkway behind her. Maybe with some insect appendage feeling between his legs.


Dammit. He was always doing that. In a shop, she’d spot something she wanted to look at. In a bar, she’d bump into a friend and say hi. He wouldn’t even notice, steam on without looking back and they’d lose each other for a few minutes, maybe even an hour or two. But she was used to him, he was used to her, it was just something different about the ways their brains worked.

She couldn’t even see the door she’d come through now. Just looked like a blank wall, too dark to see details. Decided it didn’t matter anyway. He must’ve gone through the other door, the “Museum” one, but they must end up in the same place because there was only one beat, one track, coming from somewhere up ahead. So there’d just be the one dance floor and she’d see him there anyway.
Meanwhile, insect feelers rubbing against her legs, stomach and ass were disturbing and disturbingly arousing in equal measure.

The human insects kept pace with her as she moved along the walkway, capering on the other side of the mesh and setting up barriers of waving antennae and phallic-looking feelers for her to walk through.

They tickled.

At the end of the walkway there was a door. It opened as Dee reached it and she stepped through, expecting to find herself on a dance floor.


She was in a small cage.

That moved.

As it rolled away from the door, one whole side shuttered down so she was completely trapped. She fell to her knees and clung to the bars as it rocked and bucked its way a short distance to a small podium. There was a crowd around her now, watching expectantly. Some were insect-like, some in zentai - head-to-toe spandex bodysuits that made them anonymous, humanoid rather than human. Some, conversely, all-too-human and wearing nothing but mud and streaks of body paint.

Dee would have wondered how this process worked if there were lots of people coming through the door. Did they roll another cage into position? Only use cages for punters coming through on their own?

She would have wondered this, except that many hands reached through the bars, fondling and stroking, with no way for her to avoid them. Dee’s first instinct was to draw back, push them away... But she couldn’t fight them and the switch had already flicked in her brain, back on the walkway. They were invasive, yet their gentle persistence was hypnotic.

Back of her brain, Dee wondered about the insects and zentai figures and mud-people. Was there a connection or was it just random? The insects she could figure, because there was a whole latex fetishist thing where people dressed in insect costumes. You could even see it on Youtube. The zentai thing reduced people to blank-faced anonymous figurines, though she’d tried a suit once and the feel of it against her skin was pretty fucking cool, clinging in all the right places, turning her on. As for the mud-people – she and Jake had been to Prague a while back. Encountered the story of the Golem, the artificial human made from mud. And at a festival, one thing there was plenty of was mud… Did they represent different types of sex? Metaphors for kinds of sexual experience?

The back of her brain didn’t process much after that, because the air was heavy and humid, layered with incense and noise, hot with unspoken and complex desires.

One of the chthonic, mud-covered beings – androgynous, she couldn’t even tell its sex – made her understand in mime, then by tugging at her skirt, that Dee should strip.

It wasn’t like she was enthusiastic. Just playing along with the whole scene, wondering where it led, how far it would go. But the weirdly exotic, almost non-human sexual ambience was compelling. And mud-covered T-shirts and skirts quickly get cold and slimy, while skin can be washed clean so much more easily. Then it wasn’t so much a case of stripping as relaxing into the moment, allowing her clothes to be removed, to dissolve away.

The beat was heavy and insistent. It drove into Dee’s spine, her pelvis, her thighs. It made her hot. It made her squirm.

It dawned on her that not all the figures surrounding the cage were performers. Many, especially the muddied ones, were an audience. And she was the entertainment.

Though by the time she’d figured that, Dee no longer really cared. The music, the smells, the close-packed bodies and her own nakedness in the cage all merged into an intense, dreamlike and yet visceral state. A state similar, in fact, to taking a mild dose of acid. And Dee had stayed away from drugs that night in case the festival’s night city turned out to be too freaky to handle.

Something not dissimilar to a dildo came at her face through the bars of the cage. Well, not dissimilar, and similarly veined, even though the tip was in the form of three stubby bulbs. On a whim she took it into her mouth. After a few seconds she was surprised to feel some pulsing, vibration, in it - and the bulbs filled with air, or fluid, to the point that her jaw was stretched and she couldn’t release it from between her lips. It was, in effect, both a gag and a form of bondage, because Dee had to use her hands to support herself against the cage bars. Which meant she couldn’t prevent other stuff happening, like fingers or tentacles exploring her thighs and labia and pussy.

Whatever warm and greasy organ invaded her sex, Dee didn’t know and was now past caring. All she knew was the slide and slither of it felt good inside her, despite the strangeness of its dimensions.

Insectasex? Dee had the fleeting thought that when they were finished with her she might be eaten. Surely it was the other way round, though, big female spiders eating the smaller male ones, praying mantises eating the males?

Was the organ inside even identifiably male? Or weirdly alien, and fucking accomplished with sexual rites she wouldn’t understand?

Didn’t matter. Felt good. Better than good. Climactic.

Dee closed her eyes and allowed the feelings and weirdness to flow through her body, fire and ice playing through veins and doing the pleasure/pain thing with every nerve she possessed.

The thing in her mouth muffled her screams, seemed almost to block the sensations leaving her, bottled them in, amplified them. Orgasm was sudden, a ravenous feeding on every part of her, all-consuming. And it went on for much longer than she’d thought physically possible. A freaky, trippy climax that was more like a full-body erotic violation.

There was more, but Dee’s senses were overloaded and her perceptions skewed. She couldn’t explain, even to herself, exactly how she’d come to be splayed on top of the cage rather than inside it. How things like tentacles wrapped round her limbs and torso, holding her down. What liquids had been drizzled or spurted onto her body. How many hands had stroked and massaged her. What sexual or insectual or muddy golemic members had been placed in her mouth, vagina or anus. They merged into a single extended moment in time, something that could truthfully be called a clusterfuck. Nest-fuck, hive-fuck, slippery mudfuck? All these and more...

Somewhere in the space between dream and oblivion, Dee felt warm water sluicing her body, a cleansing that she somehow associated with death. Were dead bodies washed ritually before burial? Had someone whispered that into her ear as it was happening?

At any rate, she felt a lightness of being, a sense of not-being-there. Of having been, not just fucked but all the proteins sucked from her body and replaced with strange forms of DNA that made her more than human.
It was, in its own peculiar way, a rebirth. Coming to the surface of life, experiencing it as an ecstasy, a dream, a surreal trance that was more than everyday reality could ever be. A proof that her own desires and instincts, however surreal they might seem, were the structure of her world.

And that feeling stayed with as she walked back to the tent in the early light of a new day, feet barely touching the grass, all her clothes vanished.

Jake was there, snoring into his sleeping bag. She curled up against him, wondering what had happened through the door she hadn’t taken. Feeling, nonetheless, his erection through the sleeping bag, even though he was asleep. Knowing that whatever she’d done, whatever he’d done, whichever doors they’d gone through, their future would be different. Interesting. Driven by fantasy and desire, by and sex way beyond anything she’d previously imagined as human.

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