The Snowglobe Conspiracy #007: Into the Haze


That was spectacular, but I am pretty fucking sore now.  It’s not so bad, but even if it had been substantially more painful it would still have been worth it.  He was great, even though he didn’t hold back at all once he got going.   It’s what I wanted, but now I feel like my whole body has been turned inside out and put back together ninety-eight percent correctly.  He is still breathing hard and giggling on the floor, but I have to stay upright or I’ll hurt more than I do now.  Just the thought of bending my legs or touching the floor is barely sufferable.Ow!  Not perfectly upright either, apparently.  That seems to tighten everything up in a way that’s… wrong.  What next, though?  We shouldn’t waste the daylight, and I need to know more of what he knows.  I’m sure he feels similarly.  He’s finally starting to settle down, but I can’t help him up, so this goes on for another couple of minutes.As he stumbles to his balance, I ask “Feeling better?”  His erection is starting to subside, but it’s still hard enough for me to tell that it is completely clean.  Like, one hundred percent clean.  Based on a visual inspection alone, I would probably be comfortable deepthroating it were it not for the obvious context… and size related challenges… Maybe?  Maybe.  Anyway, coincidence, or another curious effect of the still increasingly bizarre nature of this… environment?“Yeah,” he tells me breathlessly, “I’m good,” he inhales deeply, exhales, then another, and another.  “That was good.”“It certainly was.”“I’m glad you thought so.  I haven’t done that in a while.”“It didn’t show.  Well,” I admit, “I guess I wouldn’t really know, but it was good.  It felt good.  So much better than I expected.  I mean, I’m definitely in pain, but it’s not nearly as bad as I’d heard.”  I only half believe my own words, but I want them to be true.“Give it a few minutes,” He says, taking a step and touching his own ass as though it were sore too.“So,” I start speaking quite abruptly to distract myself from the pain, “Where to?”He’s clearly a bit surprised by my abrupt change of tone, but responds with a relaxed ease nonetheless, “I haven’t been too many places yet.  I washed up on the beach with no clues and no clothes.  No shipwreck on the horizon, nothing to identify how I got out there.  Otherwise I’ve just been exploring the beach and this one and only building, and making notes in this old notebook.  Getting my bearings, trying to find windows where I can get a look at some landmark that might help, stuff like that.  Do you know a way out of this building?”“Sadly no,” I tell him, “The first thing I did was walk a perimeter of the building on each floor, but it was to no avail.  There were a couple of rooms I couldn’t access, and they might have had outer doors.  One of them was chained and locked at multiple points, and the other was boarded up incredibly thoroughly.  Other than that, we’re in the same boat.”“Not exactly,” he said, “I walked a lot of the interior of the building, so maybe that will help.  Let’s start with something easy.  I found my way to five floors.”“I got six floors.  There’s a courtyard at the top with a narrow corridor that’s got a few rooms surrounding it.  You can’t see much, though.  The tall walls make it impossible to get to the roof of the corridor and it obviously doesn’t have any doors leading to the twenty-meter drop into the sea.”“That’s unfortunate.”“Is it?” I ask.“I think so.  Out of all the people we’ve walked by, some combination has got to have the combined climbing expertise to belay or rappel down the building, and the engineering expertise to safely get whomever goes down back up.”  Even as I speak a part of me is thinking about how we might construct such a device, and I am somewhat“Maybe, but do you have any of those skills?”“Not so much that I’d feel comfortable calling either that action or contraption safe, no.”“Then let’s put a pin in that and focus on devising a more attainable solution, rather than recruiting witless fools and trying to get them to snap into enough that they can successfully complete potentially life saving or life ending tasks.”“Alright.  I guess that’s reasonable.”“So, where to?” I repeat.“Let’s start at the top and work our way down.  I’d like to see this courtyard.”“Sounds good to me.  Then we’ll circle back around to the beach by the afternoon?”“Sure.  What are you expecting to find there?”“I don’t know.  We’re investigating.  Searching for clues,” I remind him before bluntly adding “You are getting measurably dimmer throughout this conversation.  Are you aware of that?”“I can tell that I’m slipping a little, yeah.”“Can I try something?”  It’s almost impossible not to smile right now.Looking both perplexed and expectant, he says “Uh, sure.”Without a moment’s further hesitation, I slap him as hard as I have ever bahis şirketleri slapped anyone in my life.  While that’s honestly not much of a standard to measure up to, it really is a very satisfying experience.  The sound alone is spectacular.  A loud crack bounces around the corridor for half a second before echoing back into our ears.  A tingling sensation sparkles on my palm and my fingers.He seems as though he is utterly shocked, which was definitely the goal.  His body goes rigid for a moment, his spine locked in the upright position.  It looks like if I nudged him in any direction he could be felled like a tree.  “What the fuck was that for?” he exclaims.  After a momentary pause, he adds, “Oh.  I know what that was for.”“Did it work?”“A little.”“Better than nothing,” I say, “Let me know if you need another one.”  That thought gets me a little wetter.  Just when I was starting to calm down, too.At first, he appears puzzled, but after a moment that scrunched up expression becomes a nonchalant smile.  “I will.”“Good,” I smile back at him, “Shall we?”“Yeah.  Come on.”  That’s all he says before he starts walking toward a pair of red metal doors at the end of the hallway.  Their windows are reinforced with luminous, twisted wire.  It’s dark on the other side, and it’s hard not to find that a little foreboding, considering the bright shine of a tropical sun pouring in through the plate windows of the corridor.“Okay…” I say with a raised eyebrow as I start following him, taking a few quick steps to catch up.As we open the doors and step through them, we pass from aggressive sunlight and florescent lighting to the dimness one might more ordinarily expected of a dilapidated warehouse.  What light there is must be coming from the sun, but it’s been reflected off of so much graying wood and rusted metal that it has an almost brown tinge to it as it reflects off walls of gray and taupe, deteriorating cork boards, and well-fitted sheets of plywood covering the windows.Everything around us has gone nearly sepia tone purely by virtue of age and material composition of our present surroundings.  It’s an unnerving shift.  When we turn around at the sound of the doors clanging shut, we see that they are solid steel fire doors.  No windows.  We look at each other in obvious confusion about where they might have gone.  He opens one and we both look at it.  Upon a few moments of inspection, we find that it’s actually two doors which have been crudely welded together and ground back down so they can fit inside their arch.“That’s weird.”“This wall is really thick, too.”“Yeah.  Do you think that this is another building altogether?” I ask.“Why would someone graft an existing building to another like this instead of just expanding one?”“This is not sound engineering.”“No.  Definitely not.”We look at each other for a moment, baffled.  The more stable our sense of reality, the stranger this place is.  “…Moving on.”With that, we turn around once more and start down the hall.  There are doors on either side, leading to all sorts of things.  Some resemble classrooms, others are more clearly storage areas, bathrooms, and utility closets.  Most of the light in here is coming through gaps in the boards over the windows on the rooms on our right.  Classrooms and bathrooms, oddly.“Why is it important that the bathrooms have windows?” I mutter aloud.“Huh?” he asks, “Oh that is weird.”“Right?  They’re not small, either.”“Maybe because we’re not on the ground floor?  It’s still weird, but at least it’s less of a privacy issue.”“…Maybe we shouldn’t try to make sense of it.”He considers and half smiles in sarcastic commiseration, “You’re probably right.”“I almost always am.”“I like that about you.”“You don’t even know if that’s true yet.”“Perhaps…” his voice wanders away for a moment as though he is considering the premise of the concept.  When it returns he says “But I can tell it is.”“I like that about you.”We walk in silence for a moment until I step on something, causing a loud snap to fill the air.  A pencil broke against a bit of flooring that had curled upward with the passage of time.  I’m grateful to it for showing me the slightly rusted nail I was about to step on.  “That would have been bad,” I say.He looks where I’m pointing and agrees.  “Very bad.  Let’s not get infections.”I nod, and point again.  “I want to check this out.  Maybe we’ll be able to get the plywood off that window.”I step past the threshold and he follows me.  The windows in here have far more light sneaking through.  We step up to the large window in the corner and each take hold of it with two hands.  Gesturing to each other with our eyes we synchronize our effort and pull together.  It takes several tries to get it off but it starts to creak on the first one.  I’m surprised by how gracefully bahis firmaları we toss it to the floor together.  It does that satisfying crunchy slide through the dust and debris on the floor as it coasted away.  Sunshine pours in on us.  Our pupils constrict immediately and harshly.  When the pain subsides we find that there is a lot to see from here.  Definitely tropical.  We can see the mountain – probably a volcano given the looks of the topography – and some jagged, black cliffs which separate the beach from the rest of the island for as far as we can see in this direction.  Between them is an expanse of beautiful, intense, tropical green.  The tops of a couple of buildings are visible amid the jungle, but it’s not really clear where they are.  There are some gaps in the trees which might be roads, but their destinations are far from obvious.  The other buildings have to be pretty tall, if we can see them above some of those trees.“Damn,” he says.  “That sky is beautiful.”In my haste to begin qualifying and quantifying anything of use, I’ve not taken even an instant to admire the whole.  It is really something.  Something spectacular, even.  Sapphire blue and clear nearly to the horizon.  What few clouds hang in the sky are the jaunty, lazy sort of cumulus which orbit larger, more savage systems.  Aesthetically speaking it is a rare beauty, as long as you don’t think too hard about what may be lurking beyond the horizon.Shockingly, he follows up his original statement by saying “Those clouds are a bit concerning, but it’s lovely.”Huh. I may not need to slap this guy a second time after all.  “Yeah.  I’m nervous about what’s out there, too.  You know, the suspiciously beautiful and outright foreboding jungle.”“So am I,” he said, “But there’s not much I can do about it, so shall we get back to exploring?”“Let’s do.”We scatter the debris from in front of us, being particularly careful to avoid any stray metal and thankful for the absence of any broken glass.  The way his ass moves amid his graceful locomotion is very pretty, and the swaying of his cock is almost musical.  I follow, happy to be behind him but wishing he could be appreciating my ass this much.  Not that I would be up for him doing any more to it than that appreciate, but I sometimes enjoy being a bit of a tease and he seems a perfect target for such fun as that.He makes me feel something, for sure.  It isn’t like the normal aura of arousal we’re currently soaking in, and it isn’t just a dose of sexual tension on top of that.  I’m not even sure it’s sexual or romantic. Certainly could be, though.  Both, neither, one, the other.  Simultaneously both and neither.  He fills me with confusion.  If I recall correctly – and I do – regardless of the occasional craving for a dick I was pretty fucking gay when I got here, yet now I am somehow, quite uncomfortably, not so particular about how masc the person that dick is attached to is allowed to be…  I shiver.I should wish I had my girlfriend’s tongue on my clit instead of… Whatever I want from him.  Well, I definitely do want her.  Right now, and forever.  Failing hers, I would be fine with any talented girl’s tongue for at least a little bit.  Something to remind me of home.  A goddamn anchor.I know that it’s most likely that my feeling for him will turn out to be temporary, but in the immediate, it’s quite compelling.  Intriguing at the least, if not exactly compelling.  It’s really the fact that I remember him.  It’s like he was there, but remembering him isn’t like remembering anyone else.  Anyone.  He’s not out of place exactly, but… It’s almost like an image superimposed on my memory, like an engrammatic green screen.  I want to know more, but I’m scared it’ll just complicate my understanding of reality further.  Maybe my new sidekick will be able to help once we find a way to get his head a bit clearer.  In the meantime, we’ve continued our trudge down the corridor, taking extra care and far too much time to cover any meaningful distance.“Let’s go back.”“Why?” he asks.I point at the floor.“Oh,” he says, “Yeah.  We’ll have to go through here eventually, though.”“Yeah, but what if we find shoes somewhere else in the building.  You know, somewhere with a less dangerous floor.”“…Good point,” he admits “Or clothes, for that matter.”“Let’s not get crazy now,” I very seriously joke, “We’d be so out of place.”“Do you enjoy showing off like this?”“I’m not showing off,” I tell him slightly sternly, “I like to be naked, and apparently it’s an option at the moment.  Plus I’m comfortable. Also…” I lean in and whisper “I don’t want to look like I’m not one of the herd right now.  Best to look like I don’t take existence any more seriously than they.  Just in case.”  I pause for just a moment, then say “Now look like I turn you on.”As I pull away kaçak bahis siteleri he looks for a moment as though he’s going to ask why, but he manages to put it together.  I hate being watched.  Of course, that’s not true under all circumstances, but I stand by the sentiment.“How’s that?” he asks playfully, looking downward only with his eyes.He is halfway hard, almost at my command.  I’m going to have to test if that works regularly… “Nicely done,” I say and grab his growing shaft.  I give it a squeeze and a couple of good jerks before I throw it back at him.  He’s dazed, but he stays standing.  That’s fun.  I like that.  “Let’s go.”“Where?” he asks.“I’m going to show you the courtyard I found yesterday and we’ll work our way down from there.”  After a brief lull, I ask “Remember?”After another second he visibly flashes back to here and now and the still-tingling memory of the slap he had received keeps him here.It’s a quick walk to the stairs.  Right back the way we came and keep going around two bends of the hallway.  These ones aren’t part of a stairwell, and they’re far more rickety.  The metal bends and creaks, even twisting a little as we ascend its springy steps.  When reacting to the impact of steps other than my own, it’s downright challenging to climb.  The first door at the top leads us outside.  Really more like a chunk of a door.  A very jagged half, really.  Looks like it’s been ripped off two of three hinges and snapped off at the top, forming a huge, splintered wooden blade, aiming proudly skyward.The cool air feels good on my skin.  Salty, but sweetened with a procession of floral notes.  We are surrounded by five highly unusual palm trees.  The atypical trees have grown on a curiously twisted, almost haphazardly corkscrewed trajectory..  Branching palm trees, at that.  Is that even a thing?  No.  Not branching.  They’ve got something else on them at the top.  Some kind of leafy vine.  I really wish I had Ginger here.  She could answer so much.Uh-oh… That’s new.  Who the fuck is Ginger?  I don’t even have to close my eyes to see her face, but when I think of her it’s like remembering into the future.  My thoughts hurt.  I try to express them but absolutely nothing happens.  It’s like my mind’s eye is so bloodshot it’s agony to keep it open, and my voice has been kidnapped by conceptual dry mouth.  A moment later my basic mental faculties return.  They apologize for storming out on me like that and we agree to table the investigation into the identity of this new so-called memory.There’s one tree in each corner of the courtyard, and a small, shorter grove of them in the center of the grass.  The grass is spectacularly overgrown.  It even creeps through the bricks in a couple of places, but when it gets larger it seems to become woody, almost like a species of bamboo…  Don’t fall down.  That would be very bad.  A climbing plant that looks like some tropical sister of ivy tears at the concrete and stone in many places with its sheer force of patience.  We can faintly hear the sounds of humans on the beach, but we are alone here.  Profoundly alone, really.  Sometimes I’m with him, but sometimes he’s somewhere else.  It’s more than just his state of mind, though.  I can’t even tell that he is here a lot of the time.  I might as well have walked up here alone, but he’s about to open his mouth and speak so he’s crossing my mind again.“So, this is it,” he says as he casually scrutinizes our surroundings, “It’s nice.”I look at him quizzically, and with slightly narrowed eyes I say “Show your work.”“The air smells nice.  The breeze feels nice.  There’s palm trees, but no sand.  Picnic tables.  Firepit.”I respond coldly, “It’s concrete and crumbling masonry with heavily overgrown, weed laden grass and some oddly shaped trees.”“Oh yeah,” he interrupts, “They are a little funny, aren’t they?”I ignore his moronic words quite easily, and continue sharing my feelings “The cracked, gray tops and seats of those picnic tables have deteriorating rusty nails sticking out of them at all angles.  They have steel supports that are more rust than metal.  The fire pit is full to brimming with what I’m pretty sure is wood-ash-derived lye from being left untended for so long in this tropical rain and everlasting humidity.  Whatever it is it burned the fuck out of me when it was completely cold.”“Wow.”“Yeah.”“What happened?  Did you step in the lye?”“I did,” I tell him, almost triumphantly embarrassed.“What happened to your foot?”“Yeah,” I start my sentence without knowing where it’s going, “I’m not really sure what to say about that.  I stepped in it, got burned, sat on that bench, and got a splinter in my thigh – perilously close to something far more tender, though.”He winces in empathy “Ouch.”“Very ouch. I knew I was going to have to keep moving after I examined it, so I stood back up and started limping toward the door hoping to find a first aid kit.  On my way, I stepped in a pile of heavily decomposed fruit which had gone past the fermentation stage and had started turning to vinegar.”

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