The Pool

Dani looked at the door, and the pool. They were both here, and she knew what she had to do. Danielle walked over to the pool, and spread her legs. The bubbles rose, popping against the waters surface. She saw that on the wall, four leather straps were nailed in place. She walked over to them, and first secured her ankles, and held her arms up. A mist rose from the pool, and she shivered as her wrists were bound to the rock.

Danielle looked at the water, and said "I give myself to you." Instantly, the water churned, bubbling and hissing. She breathed deeply, and felt the bubbles riding wind toward her body. Suddenly the whole pool rose up and formed a semi-solid amoeba, and crashed at her ankles, on her legs, and her cunt.

It rose up from the ground, like a slow motion detonation of oil-slick bubbles and air pockets. It was translucent, but she could feel the weight of it increase as the oils swirled around it. It smelled pungent, a mixture of familiar smells but all too strong.
This thing forming in from of her was Madness. She struggled against the cuffs, bruising her wrists and grinding her teeth.

It started to become opaque, the color of runny white paint in a black pan. If it had a face, it was only as an afterthought. No eyes, two small holes for a nose, and jagged rip where a mouth should be. She felt its skin, if indeed that is what it was, sliding over her naked flesh, leaving a trail of oil that seemed to move in its own bizarre circles on her skin.

"What...what the fuck are you!?!" she screamed as she felt its hands slide over her ribcage. The flesh compressed against her, but she felt it become more and more solid by the second, like being an immense amount of water.

Its impossible mouth split open like skin being sliced by a scalpel. "That is up to you." Her eyes went wide as she felt a pressure slide between her exposed pussy lips. "My body is Sweat and Cum and Spit and Juices, and it has been too long since I've eaten. " She felt the oily thing slide against her clit, parting her pussy lips up and down. The oil was soaking into her now, and it was solid enough. She felt its huge, oily cockhead press at her moist hole, insisting entry very, very slowly.

His face was next to hers, the oily bubbles of his speech sliding along her neck, his hands sliding from ribs to stomach to breasts, leaving these slow swirling trails behind, and his cockhead was pressing harder, demanding entrance that was only a fraction of an inch away.

She stared into its face, and its eyes, too many eyes, opened the same way its mouth had, and when she stared into them, she felt the Sea enter her.