Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Fiction
vr 3.00
2008-02-16
"When She Says, 'Osuwari,' Sit." by Abraxas | 2006-06-08
Chapter Five
Atop the bed, the pillow looked indented and felt warm. White, long hairs were upon it and upon the mattress, its sheets, its blankets. The largest of the covers was warm, too, and was half on the bed, half on the floor – the telltale evidence that a figure, yet unseen and unheard, had aroused itself out of the bed and had walked, crawled into the bathroom.
And at that revelation Noguichi was startled by the sound of water running through faucets.
At last it was undeniable that he was not alone.
He peered through the bathroom’s fully open doorway. He saw the sink first; second the mirror above – it was smashed and its pieces were scattered within the basin. Then there was the toilet. Then there was the shower. The shower! He blinked but it did not go away, it would not go away. Beneath the vaporous spray of the shower head, battered by the random splatter of the water, very obviously and clearly, there stood the silhouette of a form. It was there, real, existing wavering like a mirage through the spray within the shower stall.
Was it just an hour ago that the world had been normal?
Even after what Hojo said, all throughout that adventure there had been more than a few opportunities to back out of the affair. But what about now, he asked himself. What about now, seeing what he was seeing? Was it too late to turn away or was it possible to resist still?
And would his teacher understand?
Noguichi had been cocky earlier when he gave his word and promised his commitment to try the task a few nights. To test the water, so to speak, before a final decision would be reached. He could not let himself down – as a matter of honor he was duty-bound to give it a try no matter the inhuman, eerie strangeness of what he encountered along the way.
At the threshold between the bed and the bath rooms, he sat. Rather, he crouched low to the ground and rested his weight upon his knuckles that he placed before his body between his legs. He looked like a dog and again – for a moment – he thought of the sanity of secret, hidden video cameras and the normalcy of fetishism complete with grown mean pleasuring themselves at the sight of him engaged in that submissive position. If only that train of thought were true, tangible fact, it would have proved to be less of a perversion than what awaited.
As it was too late to go back he remained where he was, squatting down and looking up at the glass door of the tiny shower.
Beyond the stall was a square, frosted window whose light revealed tantalizing suggestions of the mass that was the shape inside.
After minutes of that figure just standing there and of him just crouching there, without a trace of movement between them, the flow of the water ceased. The shower door opened. Instinctively he bowed and remained still and quiet. Later, after too many moments of nothingness, he looked and his heart raced – fear coursed through his throbbing, aching body – the figure, masked by the shadows and darkness, was as unmoving and formless as ever.
No! It was not lifeless mirage for as his eyes adjusted to the dying, dim light what appeared to be a hand seemed to be indicating that he ought to be approaching.
END OF CHAPTER
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