Thrashing about I tried to break free. The heavy cloth ‘bout me ankles swaying but not breaking its tight hold round them. Already I can feel me legs tremble from the one ended struggle. The twisted edge of panic driving me on in an uncoordinated desire to break free. An all the while the objects of me shower dance upon me naked flesh.

Gasping for air I work to dislodge the soap an towel from their appointed rounds while me chest rises an falls in fast an shallow breaths. No matter were I move me arms the water seems to pulse across the rosy bud pierced by the humming band of gold. Sensations all wrong for what is happening set me nerves to edge, a warm pleasant fire sweeping along them to travel up- me spine an warp me mind.

A towel, a normal every day item I would have moved against me body without a thought takes on a life of its own. One swirls about me back door, sliding down the cleft of me cheeks an teasing the tightly closed entrance with its caress. The other returns with a vengeance, sliding along me sudsy lips to twist its narrow tip into me, sliding past the muscles I try an guard me self with.

“Oh god….why, what is going on….on why….stop….please stop it….” I cry out, the fresh tears staining me face as me struggles slow an me bum hits the bottom of the tub once more. I stare at the shower head, wanting it to talk to me…wanting an answer…

“Oh please stop…for a moment…tell me why….please….then … then “ I feel the towel enter me jus a bit further. Enter the passage to me center made tighter by the fear an panic giving new urgency to me desire to understand what is going on….

“Am I dreaming?”

- Upon the scared lady’s request for answers, the showerhead stops its assault. As the other objects continue to play with the woman’s body & dignity, the serpent like shower attachment turns off its stream of water, and rests on top of scared girl’s heaving chest. There it waited, serving her shivering form.-

Fin found the whole experience was amazing, form the mixed blend of emotions generated by the girl, to experience of touching of her most privet areas. This was far more enjoyable than being a spectator.

Yet the young lady was looking for answers now, and Fin wasn’t sure how to responded. Thoughts of why did this matter, why should it care, and (most important of all) how could it tell her all buzzed around the Immaterial’s thought process.

But with awash of exasperation, Fin decided it would answer what it could. It’s not like they wouldn’t be doing this for awhile.

- There was one last bought of fast movement from all the other objects, and then quiet. The washcloth between her lower checks stilled, remaining motionless right outside her clenched passage. The loofa rested on her right breast, only occasional giving the mound a little squeeze, reminding everyone that it was still there. And the Bar of soap goes away completely. The only activity comes from the washcloth burying itself into the woman’s vagina. Millimeter by nerve-racking millimeter, the tightly wound cloth would spin itself just a little further into the opening (twirling far to much for the headway it was gaining).

Upon the lady’s question of dreaming, the silent showerhead shakes its “head.” To make the showerhead’s point, the washcloth quickly pushes itself into the woman’s cavity, before coming out again to continue its slow/twirling descent.

The showerhead continued to gaze, waiting for the next question.-

Everything had stopped except that which needed to stop the most. The cloth at me privates spun an stroked…spun an stroked…oe’er an o’er with small pauses. The soft cloth felt harsh as it twirled at me entrance an plunged inward. The soap helping a wee bit. I had better items in the bedroom for that sort of thing If I had been so inclined an at this moment I wuz not. An yet even in the horror of what wuz happening I had time to wonder how it could be so rigid as to force its way in an past me tight entrance.

I bit me lip, wondering as the shower head seemed to answer the dream question.

“Please stop the wash cloth…please…I…I will make yah a deal…but first…” I gulped, there wuz no way to ensure the honesty of the question but well…I had to ask. Perhaps it needed a twist first. A smart twist.

Did god above, the most holy of holies send you?

Are you a demon or sent buy the denizens of the underworld to torment me….?

Do you mean me harm?

Do you understand that I …I don’t want this sort of touch an it harms me…in me head?


(throwig out multiple questions so we donlt tarry too long, consider me to have watched each answer individually, to have thought tween them. )

(no worries )

- The washcloth didn’t stop its assault, but becoming thinner, and more elongated. Turning the harsher rubbings into something . . . akin too gentle. At the mention of a “deal,” the showerhead began to look more inquisitive, yet there was no sign of agrement or disapproval.

Upon the lady’s first question, the showerhead gives a large spasm. For a brief moment, the woman’s bonds grew tighter, and the cloth in her chanal produced un involuntary shutter. When the showerhead recovered, it put forth a might shake of the head. No!

Fear practically dripped from the girl’s voice as she asked the shower if it was a demon. Yet the showerhead “looked” surprised by the idea, like it had never thought of it before. It seemed to think long & hard about the question. Sometimes “gazing” at different objects as if they held the answers. Finally it looks back at the girl and shakes it’s head with a “No” that holds as much conviction as the last answer.

The showerhead looked ready to shake its head when asked if it meant harm her, but then something made it stop. This pause looked different from the last. This time it looked like it had the answer, but couldn’t convey it. That’s when the lady caught on, and asked her last question. The showerhead started nodding before she even finished the question. Yes! It knows she don’t want this.

The objects seemed to be getting restless, as the sponge began to travel across the young woman’s ample chest, while the showerhead watched & waited.-

Not of god, not of satan…what more could there be. Not evil but the deed it did wuz evil, I had asked if it understood an it seemed to think that harm wuz ok. Like It wanted this from me no matter the cost. There had to be a way to bargain, had to be a way out. This wuz too strange to not be a dream. An yet it told me I wuz not, but could that not be a dream anyhow? Ohhhhhh….nuts. I wanted control, to be in charge. I wanted that wash cloth outta me no matter the crazy length I might have to go. There had to be sumthing better….anything….frankly even the curlin’ iron that say upon the sinks counter top seemed better, though I wuz getting desperate.

“You don’t hafta like do this. I…I can, we can arrive at an agreement tween us ‘bout what is ok an not ok. Its like a safe word. That is a word that your partner uses when things go to far for them and as the dominant one you have to stop. Like you an me. You are dominant, you have me restrained by the towels an the tube here…and the shower curtain. I am yur partner, an a willing partner is more fun, really….They are.” I must be going nuts talking to a shower head.

“Do you know who an what the dominant one is?

An me, can I have a safe word like Monkey?

If I say monkey will you stop?

Would you like a willing partner?”

The last question wuz hardest for me. It implied I would need to go along with parts of this an establish a compromise. In might be hard to do, as the thing seemed to not mind harming me. What I wanted seemed not to matter. But then…it would seem that it did not want to hurt me body. It had changed the width of the towel an wuz being a bit more gentle, not that rape coulld be gentle. Perhaps it did not understand that hurting the mind in control of the body wuz worse….I wuz nuts. Certifiable an 100% loony bin material…..

“Im going to a nuthouse….I am”

The situation was getting away from the hapless wanderer, here it had a gorgeous woman squirming in the most pleasing ways, and Fin had let the scene degenerate into a safe sex lecture.

Did all the others monsters start out like this?

- An aggravated look to the sky, by the showerhead, gave the girl the only answer she would get towards her vocabulary question. The next two answers were equally as helpful, as the showerhead used its coils to shrug each time the young lady asked about safe words. Then she asked the attachment if it wanted a willing partner, and the showerhead looked like it was about to snap. It began to move closer to her face, almost to the point where she would have to cross her eyes to continue the stare. It was shaking, with some unknown emotion. But then the showerhead calmed down, and moved away from the woman, giving another shrug as it moved to its original position above her.

That’s when the young lady saw another washcloth rising over the curtain, headed directly for her mouth. On the other side of the shower curtain she could see a half-dozen other items, of different lengths and sizes, getting ready to rise & go over the curtain. When the cloth is inches away from her moth, the showerhead hears her scream, “Im going to a nuthouse... I am.”

. . . . . . . . .

The items fall to the bathroom floor with a clatter as the washcloth, intended for her mouth, flings itself to the other side of the tub. The washcloth in her opening goes flaccid, while the other by her backside falls away completely. Then the girl is lifted (benignly) to her feet, and the coils are removed. An unoccupied washcloth wraps around her left hand, causing restraint, but also providing stability, while her right hand is left free. Finally the showerhead begins to quickly rinses her off.-

The actions of me shower head, an everyday item that should be in no way acting an moving like a being of intelligence wuz behind it….nope…I wuz nuts. An getting me self raped by ordinary items of me bath wuzn’t improving the feeling I had lost what marbles that remained in me cotton pickin head. The coils seemed to shrug an jerk me arms where they were lopped about me forearms. An all this time the cloth slowly worms its way into me, a feeling like that of me own underwear is a crawling up me hole an all. O horrible sensation that has me hips a bucking as I try an dislodge it. Squirming while the shower head seems to answer question after question. Nothing stops the relentless assault of me sanctuary. The one place sacred in all a woman’s body.

More items move behind the clear plastic of me shower curtain. How many more horrible sensations must I endure this day. Who….who would do such a thing? A final wash cloth flies with no visible support to me mouth an all I can think to do is scream…scream, those words of what I am certain has happened to me.

By gods own grace I seemed to have been saved. Suddenly me feet hit the bottom of the tub with a splash ‘gainst the gently swirling water. I’d not expected none of this. Not the clatter of objects jus outside the curtain, not the sudden stopping of all that assaults me. The cloth that had been heading towards me mouth suddenly nothing more than a limp rag upon me chest, there sandwiched tween me breasts atop the golden cross. Squirming, me breasts jiggling I try an force its wet clingy surface off me chest. Only the shower head seems to still not behave like the nonliving object it should.

The coils unravel from me arms an I find me self standing once more in me shower, the showerhead directing a flaw of water wherever the foam of soap remains upon me body. One hand remains free, slowly I snake it outwards, avoiding an touch with the strange still living shower head. I try an find the strings an in a flight of fancy the invisible man that holds is up. All me efforts seem to fail….continue to fail. More on more me forehead knots in frustration. How…how….how. For there seems no logical answer but that it is living….alive somehow this mundane device of me bath.

The blush creeps up me neck an heat pounds me. I knows me…knows what I have done…what hanaji an I have done with one another an its assistance. The way the water has pounded tween our legs, sliding along the sensitive line of our lips an drummed upon that most wonderful bundle of nerves. But for now it seems to behave, moving with a purpose across me body, washing away the soap an dirt.

A Nervous giggle erupts from me lips as the stream of water pass under the arm bound by the cloth an hits me sensitive ribs. Now that it does not threaten me entrances I feel me shoulders begin to unknot. Not enough….not nearly enough for the edge I live on. One can only hope the tide has turned.

“Can I wash me hair, an finish what wuz happening. …I…can deal with soap an shampoo an you…you jus rinsing me off. But like how long…how long have yah been here, like seeing me slip you up real close tween me legs like. Where you aware an all cause that is really embarrassing. But….oh I’ll bet I could find sum girls that would like this. I mean I could like have um take showers here an all. You could do things to them and they would let you. I…I can help if ..if yah jus let me go.”

I wuz never stepping foot in that shower ever ‘gain.

No, it is not yielding to me wishes. Not entirely. Have I but dodged the bullet for a moment? I can fear the prickles at the back of me neck. Feel with certain knowledge that sum thing is not right an this thing…whatever commands the items in me bathroom is not me friend nor is it done. The incessant tug upon me wrist by the cloth is no more a comfort to me than if it had been a rope an I a captive. At least then I might have seen the foul person that played this game at me expense.

I do what I’m seemingly told, thankful as I step about the combs an curling iron that they are not being used upon me body. The only struggle is as the second cloth circles me free hand. I do not want me hands like this…I want freedom. Me hands soon above me head…Towels wrapping their way about me. I can feel all the emotions that god tells us are wrong. Frustration, anger, an fear gnaw away at me as me body shivers as if cold, even though I am not. I try an free me self, but the cloths remain about me wrists an do not budge an inch as if the strongest steel hold me arms above me head.

“STOP it now!...I command you in the name of the lord to leave this place oh evil one. “ I spit it out, pulling on me hands as the large fluffy towels pat me skin dry. It could be worse, far worse. But I do not like it now how. I hate being tied up unable to do the least thing. Nothing stops, me words a waist of breath.

The mirror slowly clears, an I see me self, red faced an panting. Not the prettiest site. I’m glad of that, whatever does this deserves me at me worst. The semi- wet hair laying matted against me skin. I suck in me lips, make them but a small thing line and squint at the mirror. There is care in the way this thing moves the towels upon me body, but that does not matter for it is assistance I would not need if I could do things for me self. I want to scream an cuss at the room…at whomever doe this to me. But I can only see me own face in that mirror. Only see the contorted lines of me frown.

Yet the lord asks that we give thanks in all things. I do not wish to….not one bit but there are things to be thankful for. Perhaps that is what this thing needs to hear. Me yelling an screaming has done nothing to appease it.

A big Huff of air bellows from me lungs. “Ok…I could do this. An I could a washed me hair, thanks for drying me…an trying a massage, but if yah wanted me to relax you would let me go… oh an still thanks for hanging the towel in front of me. I really don’t wanna be looking over me body while”… I catch me self, silently wondering why I would even wanna voice me concerns. Like sum sort of pervert exists inside me. Frustrated by me own self trying to stop this assault. Oh….I’m losing it with out hanaji here. I am really loosing it.

Towels move as if possessed. This time as if possessed my sum thing less malevent, more kind, gentle even as they work the water form me skin. The kindness turns to towards minor pranks, the tickling of me arm pits. Standing with me hands up in the air unable to resist the assault all I can do is wiggle me body to try an azoid the warst of it.

Lke a child the grin spreads. Soon a few giggles as the torment continues. The giigles turning to laughs. An still I cannot move away. Me arms an shoulders strain an for all me efforts I only manage to raise meself to me toes as I begin to gyrate.

“Oh not …..” the giggles pour from me mouth in a river as the towels runs along me right side. The rings jiggle upon me breasts, playfully tugging on me nipples.

“you beast” though the growing grin on me face and the start of a tear does lil to convey any harsh meaning. Finally I start to allow me body to lean into the towels massage at me back. That is tween giggles an tickles.

“No feathers…..” I grunt out jus after another escapade. Tickled to death….I can see the headline. But for know I care not. What has gone on before slowly being over ridden by the new game.

Slowly, as the giggles take me, as the towels dry an massage me, taut muscles loosen. Shoulders slump, arms still above me. The curve of me back softer as I push me chest into the soft embrace of cloth. I let me feet go a bit wider, allowing the towel access up an down me legs to finish drying me off. I close me eyes an let me mind drift to another day. A day when warm hands moved a towel across me body, drying their mistress off. Her soft warm hands, with strength in the fingers that squeezed me orbs much like this. I could feel me body begin to melt into the embrace of cloth. Could feel the horror an tension drip away as each droplet of water disappeared from me skin.

A pampered spa treatment with a few ticklish moments that send me body squirming an me mouth to giggling. Yet tween each bout I feel me self sink further into the caress of cloth. Me heart quiets, pulse no longer racing as it had. Me breathing slows an shifts. I shift each leg in turn upwards, letting the cloth dry me feet, feeling the slow swipe across the sole that makes me put it down to pretext the ticklish underside….

“Not funny” an yet I laugh, dispelling the honesty of the words jus as soon as they leave me mouth. Perhaps what is happening is yet another of gods tests. Perhaps I need to seize the moment…

“You seem to have a nice strength in yur hands….perhaps a massage? It would relax me…” an if its real good I will fall asleep, a rare an wonderful gift indeed. But I do not say this aloud. How I long for the warmth of a body next to mine. To ward the nightmares from me mind that come in the dark of the night to steal away me sleep.