Something squirmed deep down in her gullet, writhing around in her stomach like an eel thrashing out of water. It was disorienting, sickening even, but that wasn’t what woke her from her slumber. Neither was it the insufferable dreams, ones layered in awkward memories and often drifting into nightmare. 

      No, what awoke her was something all together unforeseen. It was the feeling of comfort surrounding her. That wasn’t normal, to languish in soothing liquids as if taking a warm bath. Such an extravagant leisure was alien to the void gal who had only ever known cold showers in sparsity, and always in cramped spaces. 

      As Skye Kimble’s body drifted happily in the mirky substance, the liquids felt thick against her skin. The hairs between her legs tickled as the gooey fluids encapsulated her body. She could feel it smothering her skin, and sinking through to her pores. Time was indiscernible, which made the continued state of relaxation something that was hard to ignore. 

      Skye wasn’t entirely certain when she became aware of her current situation. Whether she had been bathing in the cramped space for mere minutes, or entire days, was beyond her knowledge. Her memories were clouded, and she could barely remember her own name.

      There were flashes in between her dreams, short spurts of recollection revolving around the smell of tarnished metal and smoke. The feeling of stepping over broken bodies, and relishing the taste of spiced rum nudged her memory. It was strange, Skye had never enjoyed, nor could she afford, such exquisite alcohol. She certainly hadn’t stepped on the bones of her enemies before. Did she even have enemies?  

      When Skye opened her wide eyes, she found the milky white substances too cloudy to see through. Her teeth ground against something thick and blubbery. It was then that she realized that a tube ran down her throat. Panic took hold, but the liquids engulfing her body seemed to respond to the sudden duress. Fear melted away, and Skye found herself letting the tube provide her with nourishment, and fresh oxygen.

      Her nipples, all four of them, stiffened as Skye noticed other mechanisms wrapping around her breasts. It took a moment for her mind to register the feeling of something nursing from her teats. A numbing sensation almost made it impossible to feel the rubbery coils against her bare skin, the heads of which were firmly attached to each of her nibbles. She was being milked by these tentacle like appendages, and they suckled greedily.

      Something else fiddled with her loins, and Skye could feel a firm pressure nestled deep within her fertile cove. The instrument pressed against her inner walls, and seemed to sate the carnal desires of her Pharetra nerves while she slept. 

      More memories flashed before her mind, and although it was hard to piece them together, Skye had a vague recollection of something sharp being held against her throat. Disappointment echoed in the back of her mind, or perhaps betrayal? There was also a deep seated longing for someone that was shrouded in the gooey mist of her thoughts. She couldn’t picture his face, she couldn’t picture anyone’s face while languishing in pleasure.

      Skye closed her eyes, not sure what to do, and although sleep tugged at her awareness, she fought against it with cool endurance. 

      Eventually, although it may have only been a few minutes, Skye bit down on the cord. At first nothing happened, so she bit down harder. She wasn’t sure what it was made of, but its outer surface felt smooth and rubbery against her teeth, and she only had to chew at it a little before feeling like she was making some progress. Just as her teeth tore through the outer layers of material, a harsh red glow erupted around her. Suddenly, the milky white fluid appeared villainous in nature, and a sudden pressure took hold.

      Her heart raced as she reached out, her palms touching the surface of what she could only assume was a hatch for the pod. She banged on it with all the strength she could muster, all the while chewing on the cord until tasting something salty leaking from its inner tubing. 

      It was then that a high pitched shrill made her ears pop, and the hatch violently ejected. The liquid spilled out from the sealed chamber in a rush, and Skye found herself being lifted upward toward the surface. As her breasts breached the murky firmament, she could feel cold air brush against her skin. Her body floated in the bath, while rubbery coils remained latched onto her giving breasts, causing her to squeal at the feeling of her mounds being tugged.

      Moving her arms was like trying to swim in thick gravy, the pool of soup weighed heavily upon her limbs like glue. Even as her hand reached out, a thick layer of goo drooled from her forearm, and as Skye tried to lean forward it was like fighting against quicksand. 

      The air was freezing, and Skye’s body felt numb as she lifted herself up. Goosebumps coated her skin, and she fought the temptation to simply get back into the slime.

      Her feet remained submerged, and her limbs quivered as blood flowed through her arms and legs. It didn’t take long before suddenly the feeling of nausea took hold. Skye grabbed hold of the cord still reaching down her esophagus, and pulled. It refused to budge at first, but the suffering of keeping it down her throat far outweighed the discomfort of yanking it out.

      Eventually the tube gave, and Skye wanted to puke as she felt it slowly drag out from her stomach. The moment it came free, she vomited a mountain of white puke before gasping for breath.

      Free from the menace that was feeding her, Skye fell on her knees, letting the contents of the pod come up to her waist, and continued to throw up what was left in her stomach. It was exhausting, hacking up thick goblets of drool from her tummy. The acidic salty aftertaste only made things worse, and Skye desperately tried hold onto the sides of the container.

      Her breasts heaved in the air, still oozing with milk. The coiled instruments were still latched onto her areola’s, their tubes extended back to the pods interior. After the nausea passed, Skye slowly stood up again, doing her best to remain upright with her wobbly legs. 

      “Ok Skye, get a hold of yourself.” She spoke quietly to herself, and found her throat was raw. Hearing the sound of her voice sent a tingle down her spine. It sounded too rough, too edgy than she was used to. 

      She grabbed hold of one of the suction heads tugging at her nipples, and fought to pull it free. The head of the coil resisted her at first, but after applying enough strength it finally relinquished. They each fought against her in similar measure, especially the ones attached to her lower breasts, but given time and persistence her stout nipples were finally liberated. They were each unbearably sensitive, tender, and moist with lactation. They were still leaking motherly fluids, leaving thin trails down the mounds of her chest, and coursing along the lean curvature of her stomach. Dark blue veins coated her breasts, and the nursing coils had caused her once pink nipples to turn a harsh purple hue. 

      The lower mechanism attached to her loins was harder to remove. There was some kind of sticky coating applied to the rubber sleeve, keeping it latched to her groin so that the rod it housed remained firmly in place. Skye couldn’t remove her feet from the pods liquid contents until this final piece was removed, and it fought to keep itself from budging. 

      The chamber around her was eerily silent, except for the occasional spout of steam from overhead pipes. It was dark, with only the light of the open pod providing her a source of illumination. 

      The thing clutching onto her groin came loose with a slick pop, and with it the average sized rod was allowed to slip out from her swollen folds. Once her nether regions were freed, and without the phallus shaped tool stirring her insides, Skye gasped with a surge of relief. 

      Her naked body wouldn’t stop shivering as the cool air continued to wash over her skin, but Skye took comfort in no longer being fondled by strange rubbery coils. Still, the cold bothered her, and a dangerous thought seeded itself in the back of her mind. That maybe…it would be better to lay back in the pod. 

      Discarding the thought, Skye struggled to lift her right foot out of the pond, and nearly slid on the cold iron floor next to it. Whatever milky white substance had bathed her skin, it was still glomming on like a sticky soup, and seemed to slip easily on smooth surfaces. 

      Blue light brimming from the pod basked her muscled body as Skye tried to leave it behind. She couldn’t help but notice how pale her skin was, it was as if the life had been sapped from her latte colored flesh. Thick knotted muscle in her trapezoids and shoulders bulged as she tried to summon the strength to hold onto the sides of the tank, and lift her left foot free from the glossy liquids.

      It reminded her of creamy tanning oil, or perhaps…no, Skye bit her lip at the thought. It would take thousands of men to provide the amount of raw semen to fill a pool of this size. The idea was insane. Whatever it was, it smelled bitter, and remained lathered over her skin as she stood next to the tank.

      There was nothing nearby, no clothing to adorn herself, or anything that Skye could use as a towel. There wasn’t even a light to show her a path out of the chamber, and yet Skye knew there had to be a doorway nearby.

      With a pit in her stomach, Skye left her comfort behind, and wandered naked into the dark.