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One Lively Sex Doll (Perversion & WildfIower)

WildfIower

WildfIower

Boo I'm a ghost
Joined
Nov 3, 2019
Suddenly, there was light.

There was nothing before, nothing to remember, nothing to understand. An endless void with no room for comprehension existed in a newly formed past, a closing chapter that slammed shut as eyes opened for the first time. She felt no confusion, no panic or fear, she felt nothing as her pupils adjusted to the dim light escaping from behind the curtain. As suddenly as anyone could ever imagine, a lack of life, a concept of nothingness incomprehensible was granted the senses and intelligence to experience a life of flesh and blood, thought and emotion. It was all so much to be exposed to at once, but overwhelming was a feeling preceded by something lesser; there was no basis here. The only overloading she experienced now was subconscious, as a new life sorted through inherent knowledge, introduction to feelings, smells, sight, and emotion, desire. All she could do for a long time was lie in the bed, cold and unclothed, with an unknown man's arm draped over her chest. She could have stay there forever, taking it all in.

As certain things began to work out in her mind, breathing in through her nose, out through her mouth, how to wiggle her toes and how it tickled every nerve when the man beside her breathed hot against her chest, she could begin to take in more. It began, the gentle repetition of her breath, the slower breathing of the man beside her, the way the light peeking out behind the curtain moved against the wall, the same way, the gentle humming of a heater, somewhere, constant, and the warm air it pushed toward them, how comforting that felt, how relaxing but unnatural. More slowly, she began to think in ways less sensory, no longer just taking in these feelings but pondering on them. She wasn't ready to ask who she was, where she was or even who he was, but curiosity overcame her as to how she could feel all these things, the soft drumming in her chest, the crisp air filling her lungs and the continuous rush of feelings and experience all around her.

As if pulled from a serene delusion, the humming ceased. Her body was shaken with a shiver, her nipples began to peak and what was once a very calming experience turned to something less so. Her brow furrowed for the first time, and her eyes followed the arm atop her, to his shoulder, neck and head. Instinctively, she knew he was like her. She hadn't the faintest idea what she was, nor the insight to ask such a question, but somehow she knew he was just the same. Unsure, too, of who she was, what she was or why she was there, the only conclusion she could draw now was that this man like her was harmless, there to aid in the comfort she had been introduced to. Perhaps he had brought her here, but that wasn't a question she consciously wondered. Instead, the young woman wondered how she could regain the comfort she'd had, and again, only one conclusion came to mind, and it was to tell this man that the air had turned cold.

Her predicament was unknown to her, she didn't know that she was naked, she didn't know that clothes were expected of her. She didn't know that this man had no idea who she was or where she had come from, nor that her existence even required an explanation, nor her presence in his bed. What was once a funny joke, a blonde, red lipped blow up doll, plastic, nothing more than a toy, existed as a grown woman. She bore some resemblance to the doll, from pale skin, without freckles or even the slightest imperfection, to pillowy lips, dark brown eyes and wavy, golden blonde hair. She was petite, short shoulders and delicate arms, with small sized hands and feet. Her body was shapely, curving from narrow legs, wider thighs and hips wider yet, back into her waist and out again up her chest and her full, pale breasts. She had no hair but on her head, and nothing that would ever suggest she was anything but a woman.

His eyes were closed, and she thought that must be a choice, though she wasn't sure why he would do such a thing when open eyes brought light and sight. How could she get his attention? Instinct suggested she move, speak. She had already wiggled her toes, her fingers next. The extremities could move with ease, and then she focused on her arms, just to feel them, the power they held, then her legs, her chest, her stomach. She could move them, independently, as much or as little as she liked, and they responded reflexively. Her lips could part, her mouth could open, but making sound was something so incredible. The efforts to do so took a few silent minutes of working out, acclimating her tongue, her teeth, all the muscles that worked in unison to produce in reality the thoughts in her mind, and to share with the man beside her of her needs.

"Excuse me, why isn't it warm anymore?" Innocent as anything, the naked, unfamiliar woman asked him quietly, unaware that he was asleep, unaware that sleep was something necessary, unaware of what sleep even was. When the man, who smelled strong compared to everything else around them, didn't answer her, didn't open his eyes or even wince in response, nor did the warm air return, she furrowed her brow again. Perhaps she wasn't speaking as she thought she had been. She wet her lips, unintentionally, but it felt the right thing to do to speak. Once again, she looked straight at the sleeping man and said, "It isn't warm anymore." Surely, if she could experience this discomforting cold, the man like her could too.
 
Jonathan was out cold, completely oblivious to the live, warm body his arm was draped over. It had been one hell of a night, his 30th birthday, and on such an occasion his friends had seen no reason to hold back. What had started as a quiet night at one of their houses had spilled out onto the street and into the bars, almost a dozen rowdy men who hadn't been this drunk since they were in their early twenties were spending hundreds of dollars on drinks for themselves and every woman wearing a short enough skirt. The first couple of hours he would have a vivid memory of, the drinks they had before they even left and stumbling towards the center of town, none of them sober enough to drive even then. They had rolled through stores along the way leaving behind baffled storekeepers, bought up anything that seemed funny. Beer bong hats, googly glasses, offensive T-shirts and even a blow up doll which had been immediately inflated and forced into his arms to carry through the streets wearing a hastily purchased pair of shorts and a T-shirt. Then the bars themselves...the whole night had been drink after drink, conversations with actual women while holding his new inflatable friend close. Of course he had struck out...he'd been far too pissed to hold a conversation with the doll never mind intelligent life.

That was about as much as he'd remember, perhaps flashes of the cab back home in the early hours of the morning, the greasy take-away he'd eaten to sate his need for bad food. At some point the doll had lost the meager clothing they had given her. Eventually his friends had left one by one and he'd retired to bed with a huge grin on his face, falling asleep with his arm over the rubber girl. Almost as soon as he hit the mattress he was asleep, the covers half off him, the heater on to keep him warm in the cold November air anyway. The next thing he knew was the pounding in his head, the sick feeling in his stomach as he groaned loudly and opened his eyes to the world. He'd heard something, some girl asking him why it wasn't warm anymore. Everything was blurry, his neck ached and his stomach rolled with the effort of moving and when his vision started to clear...he saw her. "Can you keep it down a little, my head is kind of banging..." He didn't have many thoughts for the next few seconds other than why he had drank so much and how he could make the headache go away. "The heater, it's on a timer, you just have to turn the dial and it should warm up again. Sorry...who are you?"

He grinned, his eyes coming to focus on the girl in his bed, blonde, beautiful, kind of cute...he cast his mind back to try and remember her, what had even happened. He had flashes of talking to several girls, even blondes but none of them had quite the same face, and none of them had stuck around with him for very long. He shook his head, pulling back the covers to climb out of bed. He still had his boxer shorts on, which struck him as a little strange considering the company he'd gone to bed with. He remembered more, coming home with a few of his closer friends, laughing and joking with that dumb doll they'd bought, then falling into bed with his arm around it...there was no girl in his memories but judging by how much his head was hurting he couldn't rely on that. He looked down at her, smirking at the hard nipples on those perfect breasts, the flawless skin. If he didn't remember last night he was going to regret it for the rest of his life for sure. He reached into his bedside table, grabbing a packet of paracetamol and taking two out, swallowing them without the water.

"Really sorry about last night, I was pretty out of it...I don't even remember your name or...well, anything." He grinned sheepishly as he located the heater in the corner of the room, turning the dial a little as he crouched down by it and setting it on high to heat up the room again. Turning back to the bed his brow furrowed. There was no clothes anywhere other than his, no condom wrapper, no purse...no sign that she was ever here or any memory of her except for the fact that she clearly was here, in his bed. Completely naked, while he had been wearing his underwear, right where the doll had been...but he wasn't crazy, just hungover. He found his pants on the floor, plain black slacks that he pulled up his muscular thighs, buttoning them up while he looked down at the girl, the mystery in his room. He had an impressive figure, 6"2 and a little toned, lightly tanned flesh and a visible muscular structure that spoke of a physical career. He was handsome, too, sharp masculine bone structure and an easy going smile with a short beard and brown eyes to match his hair. He looked towards the window, squinting as the light sent waves of pain exploding through his head and making him think better of opening the curtains. He groaned and stumbled back towards the bed, slipping beneath the covers with her and laying on his back. "Sorry, don't think I'm ready to get out of bed just yet...give me a few minutes will you? My head's killing me."
 
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Banging, heater, timer, dial. The girl laid on her back beside him, just as silent as he was, while her brand new mind worked out these new words. If she had any sort of background on which to base the feelings, it would be strange, but it felt so natural as the connections were made. She couldn't explain what a heater was, but she knew it served the purpose of creating warmth, that a timer regulated duration, she had a basic understanding that a dial was some sort of mechanism that turned, and banging was simply a way of expressing the aching of his head. Though, she hadn't experienced ache, and was only aware that it was another physical feeling, like the warmth, the tingling, even the cold air that gave her goosebumps. These thoughts were all so quick, instant, some things she hardly processed, without any time provided by this man, who could have no idea just how much sensory overload she was experiencing on top of being exposed to language for the first time, despite how deeply embedded in her mind it appeared to be.

She watched as he pulled back the covers, revealing a body similar to her own, minor differences she didnt immediately register. His boxers caught her attention, and all over again her mind was in a flurry to make the connection between this sight and the word playing over and over in her head, boxers. A fitted fabric, to cover ones self, to comply with modesty and societal norms. Why was such a garment necessary? Did it help to keep him warm? Were there others like the two of them, and why did the others care whether he covered himself or not? Why did he care whether she might see what was underneath his boxers? Under his slacks? Should she be wearing them, too, to imitate the man like her? They didnt look very comfortable.

Who are you? That question sent her innocent mind even more sideways. Who was she? She was herself. She was a woman lying beside him in a bed. The details exposed themselves, what else could he possibly wish to know? What else was there to know? "I don't understand," was all the speech she could manage to muster in response to him, a genuine look of confusion plaguing her face, as if this existential question had truly gotten the better of a hungover, one night stand. Really, she simply didn't know the answer, despite understanding, somewhere in the depths of her subconscious mind, the gravity of such an inquiry. From absolute nothingness to a demand. How was she meant to answer him? She awoke to him, she awoke to his arm over her, she awoke in a place he seemed familiar with and with language and technology he seemed to understand; shouldn't he have that answer for her?

Before she could think to spit out all these thoughts flying through her head, he began to speak again. Last night, her name? She could distinguish day and night, she innately understood the concept, though having a hard time processing that there was indeed a last night. He had to know that she wasnt there last night, he had to know that she had appeared in his bed. He must have held those answers, as she certainly didnt. Worst of all, he didnt know her name. Silence followed his statement, an almost blank stare at the ceiling as she felt the heat returning to the air, covering her body again. If he could control the heater, if he had the power to ease her discomfort, surely he was not so clueless. New emotions, fear and anxiety, began to bubble in the pit of her stomach. Cold was bad, but this feeling was much worse and she believed and wished the man would take it away again.

Before a breath had been taken following his request, the girl sat up in his bed and looked down as he was closing his eyes, "Who am I?" Her lips parted, an innocent look in her eyes, to suggest her belief that she hadn't the answer.
 
Jonathan groaned again, his eyes still closed. The girl hadn't really answered his question or said anything at all except that she didn't understand, but the question was understand what? Surely it wasn't so hard to understand that he just wanted to know who she was, had she been as drunk as he had been? That might make sense, it would explain why they clearly hadn't fucked although where her clothes had gone to was another matter entirely. He was still trying to recall what had happened as his head pounded, the throbbing ache in his temples threatening to make his head explode all over the bed, so when he felt her move and heard her voice again, those three little words like she didn't even know, he was already confused.

He slowly opened his eyes, raising his arm to shield them from the dim light as he squinted at her. "Who are you? Come on, even I know who I am and I don't think I've ever drank so much in my life." He laughed softly, not a cruel laugh but one of disbelief. "We can start with your name, I'm Jonathan, you do have a name, don't you?" He chuckled, amused at the very idea that somebody wouldn't know their name. Looking up at her, the bedsheet had fallen down to around her waist when she'd sat up, she clearly wasn't very modest as she'd made no efforts to hide it. Looking to her face as his eyes adjusted though...she looked confused, worried even.

He sighed softly and pulled himself up, resting his back against the head of the bed so that he was sitting up too. "Do you really not know? What is the last thing you remember?" He had the strangest feeling that he was missing something, something important but he just couldn't quite place it, his mind not yet ready to truly accept that the lack of clothing anywhere and the missing sex doll was connected to this girl who didn't seem to know who she was.
 
The girl watched rather intently as he opened his eyes again, raising his arm and speaking again. It felt so instant, but the process of hearing these words for the first time and deciphering through was tiring, paired with how insistent he was that she had these answers. It was frustrating, even, to wake for the first time, beside him in his bed, and expect that she know who she was, why she was here, that she might remember things he couldn't. She hadn't chosen to exist, she hadn't chosen him; the only conclusion her overwhelmed mind could draw was that he had chosen to give her this life she was experiencing. Who else but the only person she had ever met?

Who are you? She almost flinched to hear those words again, so soon. Could he not hear the same way her ears did? Surely he could, given his answers and responses thus far. Perhaps it was her own fault, to not answer him precisely. Perhaps there was some miscommunication between them. Disbelief simply didn't occur to her; how could she give answers she didn't have? She looked intently at him still, trying desperately to convey to him that she couldn't provide a solution, "No, Jonathon, I don't have a name." She insisted again, shaking her head, with only the absolute lightest hint of frustration coloring her words. Some part of her was mad, convinced that he must know these things, confused as to why he would withhold the information and demand it of her, but just as much, she couldn't understand why he would do such a thing. What purpose would that serve?

She didn't move as he sat up, sensing in some way how uncomfortable he seemed, though she hadn't the faintest idea what could make him feel that way. Things were much nicer with the heat on, and her exposed body was just as relaxed as it could be. As naturally as the urge could take her, she breathed in deeply, her own disbelief beginning. How could he ask her if she was lying? Why would she lie? Most of all, how could he ask her what the last thing she remembered was? Her memory began in his bed, there was nothing before that, nothing to conceive, nothing to comprehend. "I don't know who I am. Didn't you bring me here?" Her own brow furrowed once more, some part of her hoping that he would admit it, or at least answer her questions with something more concrete.
 
The girl still wasn't bothering to cover herself, and Jonathan was doing his best not to stare at her chest but it was a losing battle, every now and then his gaze slipped. When she spoke though, he managed to look up into her eyes. He frowned as she told him she didn't have a name. Who the hell didn't have a name? It just didn't make sense! "Did Nathan put you up to this? Who doesn't have a name?" It was the only thing he could think of that actually made sense, that his best friend had snuck her in here while he was asleep. It was something he would do too, he had a spare key, he'd known how drunk Jonathan had been. It was possible, the alternative wasn't. The only thing that was making it hard to swallow and accept that this was an elaborate prank was the look on her face. She didn't look like she was hiding something, she looked like she was lost.

He sighed and reached for his drawer. He'd stopped smoking a while ago but he had a vape stick just for emergencies, and his headache combined with the weird situation had pushed him to where he needed a hit. He turned it on and brought it to his lips, inhaling and then blowing out the small cloud of steam, aiming it up rather than at her face. "Okay, okay...you don't know who you are?" He tried to see it from her point of view, how would he feel waking up with amnesia? "I didn't bring you here, at least I don't think I did. Do you really not have any memories at all?" He looked to the side of the bed she'd woken up on. If this was a prank they hadn't left anything to chance, there was no doll, no clothes. No possessions of any kind.

"Let's say I believe you...you have to give me something, are you from around here? Do you have a job? Where are your parents from? Do you have siblings?" The questions came fast as he tried to think of any information she might have. "Where did you grow up? How did you get here? Where are your clothes? Why are you in my bed?"
 
His eyes darting between her own and her chest failed to even phase her as embarrassing or intimate, it only seemed natural, normal. Though, her own were quite focused on him, pleading for answers and focus that could soothe these uneasy feelings in the pit of her stomach. However, his running lips provided nothing of the sort, rather they amped the confusion, effecting more problems than solutions. Now he would demand her name, knowing full and well that she couldn't possibly know the answer, knowing full and well that there simply wasnt an answer, only to grow irritable when she couldn't provide something that simply didnt exist. Her fragile, newly formed mind was entirely overwhelmed, unsure of what to do next, instead sitting silently as he took a hit and continued his string of questioning.

All over again, asking who she was, and now insisting he hadn't brought her here. How did Jonathon expect her to react to him, to this? As if it wasnt all scary, sickening and confusing enough, the smoke he blew began to trickle down in the air, with a most unusual smell. She couldn't help but to slap at his hand with the vape, a quick attempt to knock it to the floor and cease the strange new smell invading her senses and space. It wasnt even necessarily a bad smell, simply overpowering and pungent, not something she desired when already overwhelmed with so many other thoughts and emotion. And just as nonchalantly as she had knocked it from his hand, or at least tried, her breathing became more rapid, anxiety setting in for the first time as his irritable attitude and rapid fire questions began.

Where she was from, her job, parents, siblings? Where she grew up, how she got there, her clothing and the true underlying question, why was she in his bed? She felt her relaxed muscles begin to tense, suddenly stressed out and uneasy, feeling sick in her stomach, worse now than before. It was entirely overwhelming, knowing absolutely nothing and having the information demanded of you, by who she thought would be the one to provide her those solutions. Like a building tension, the tears started spilling out of her eyes. That sensation in itself took her back for a moment, but the emotions causing the reaction were so strong, she hardly had the energy to work through it. Without a thought, she wiped the continuing tears from running down her cheeks, bringing up her outstretched legs to sit cross in front of her. "I don't know who I am." She spat out through her sobs, "I dont know any of that!" She repeated, now upset, confused and angry at him. Already, she felt nostalgia for that morning, silence and heat. Whether he brought her here or not, she was appalled to be given this gift so unpleasant.
 
Jonathan blinked as his vape stick went flying across the room, watching it slide across the carpet and come to a stop against the wall. He hardly had time to question it though before his annoyance had led to his rant. At first he thought she might answer him, he might learn why she was here, maybe she would break and admit it was all just a big joke. Instead she did something he hadn't expected. Maybe if he'd been thinking about her feelings if all this was real he would have realised this was about to happen, but he hadn't. He'd been too focused on himself.

She cried.

He reacted how most men would when faced with a crying woman, clearly in distress and suffering emotionally. He reached for her, took her wrist only to pull her closer to him and then wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight against his chest. The fact that she was naked. That he was wearing only his pants, it didn't enter into it. "Hey, shhh...I'm sorry okay? I'm sorry, I didn't realise...most people know their name, I thought it was just a prank..." He sighed inwardly, if she knew nothing of herself then how was he meant to work through this? He stroked a hand up and down her back without relieving the pressure.

"We will figure it out, I'm sorry if I upset you. Ummm...you need a name for now, we can call you..." He looked around for inspiration. A men's magazine, FHM was on his bedside table, a picture of the singer Rihanna on the cover. He couldn't call her that, but one of her songs was already playing in his head, that stupid sound. "Ella. We can call you Ella, okay? Does that sound good to you? Please, stop crying, I'll stop asking you all the questions..." He was feeling incredibly uncomfortable but he didn't know how he was meant to handle this.
 
"It's not a prank," She all but whimpered the words. How could he think it was a prank, when he had to have known her existence, entirely, began this morning. What would possess her to trick him, what could possibly motivate her to do such a thing? At least he was finally showing some semblance of empathy, instantly soothing her with his tight embrace and a hand stroking her back. It calmed her somehow, relaxing the muscles once tight and tense. Finally, he assured her he would quit with his excessive questioning, his desire for things she couldn't give him. A shaky sigh rocked her body, and she wiped the tears from her eyes again, feeling the intense emotion begin to drain from the forefront of her mind. Things didnt feel quite so hopeless anymore.

Ella. Now if only he had opened with that revelation, she could have answered the question tenfold. She was Ella, no more and no less. The young woman nodded, expressing her agreement with him. "I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable," she told him, once the tears had stopped, though she didnt make any attempts to put any distance between the two of them. It was warm and comfortable there, relaxing in a way she couldn't quite put her finger on, similar to his arm over her that morning and his breath against her as he had slept. It did upset her just how much her reaction seemed to alarm and confuse him; that was, of course, never her intention. There was no intention at all, simply an outburst of overflowing emotion.

Still recovering from the unsettling emotion, Ella wrapped her arms back around him, loosely, resting her head against him now. She made only the efforts to calm her breathing, to bring her physical body back to the serenity it once knew. She hated the emotions she'd just experienced, and she hoped she would never meet them again. She hoped that his current level of understanding would continue, and that he wouldn't again believe she was dishonest when she wasn't. It was such an incredible relief that he was listening and trying to understand now. With another, less shaky breath in, she spoke without pulling away from him, "You really don't know how I got here?" She asked. It was hard to believe, impossible to accept at this point, but worth clarifying anyway.
 
Jonathan held her as tightly as he could for as long as he could. He really didn't know how else he was meant to handle this, what was he supposed to do? The girl had come out of nowhere, literally, and it seemed she knew nothing either. Oh she understood words, that she could do but any question about herself and she would freeze up or panic...he didn't want her to panic again. He didn't think he could handle the crying. He nodded, not sure if she could see it or feel the movement but prone to making such gestures anyway. "Not a prank, I understand. Then I really don't know what's going on. You woke up here?" Her body heat against his meant he was at least comfortable holding the position but eventually he was going to have to move, he could already feel that he needed the bathroom after so much drinking the night before, but he didn't want to abandon her.

Slowly he pried her arms from around him, and when he looked her in the eyes he had a smile on his face. He was faking it...he was still confused, even a little disturbed by the girl appearing in his bed but he was starting to process the situation better. He shook his head softly when she asked her question, it seemed he wasn't the only one struggling with disbelief. "No Ella, I don't know how you got here. I was pissed last night, I can't really remember everything but I'm pretty sure that when I went to sleep it was just me and...umm...a sex doll." He grinned sheepishly and held up his hands defensively, like he was fighting off an accusation. "I didn't do anything with it, it was just something my friends bought while we were all drunk, and when I woke up...you were asking me how to make it warm again."

He looked over her again...she had the same kind of hair colour as the sex doll, but that was crazy, right? It was hard to match facial features to something so basic but if he really had to bring a rubber doll to life then she would look kind of like Ella...maybe. He shook his head, like he was shaking off something completely insane. "Okay, I'm going to take a shower and try and think about this, you...you can stay here, stay warm alright? Once I feel a little refreshed we can try and work out what's happening here, maybe I need to take you to the hospital or something. Do you feel okay?" It was a stupid question, of course she didn't, she had to feel awful, he couldn't imagine how she felt right now. He sighed softly, climbing out of the bed and walking towards the bathroom.
 
Ella stayed silent, just agreeing with him on points the both of them had pounded into the ground over and over and over by now. Neither of them knew her origin, neither of them knew who she was, neither of them knew how she had ended up there in his bed. The only new information came from him shyly, getting pissed and falling asleep on a sex doll? It should have been shameful for him, even if she couldn't quite comprehend that feeling. Nor did she make any sort of connection between herself and the sex doll; it would be preposterous, outlandish to fathom in any way. Of course her situation was inconceivable, confusing, even outlandish itself, but to believe even for a moment that an inanimate object could be given life, flesh? Ridiculous.

Again, she nodded. "I'm okay," She assured him, though her voice didnt carry the confidence her words might. She was still confused, but at least she was warm, and not so anxious now. Her eyes followed him until the bathroom door shut behind him, only to look down then. Life had been so short this far, and overall dismal. The heat didnt feel quite as soothing anymore, there were more emotions and nerves tainting her attention. Deciding lying in his bed for eternity simply wouldn't do anymore, the petite girls leg swung over the side of the bed one at a time, and for the first time, she stood. It was another new, challenging endeavor, but her body took to it easily. Then, one foot in front of the other, and again, until she was past the bedroom door and down the hall, quiet and slow, taking in all these new sights.

The urge to open every door and peak out every window was hard to resist. Fear held her in place, not keen to subject herself to things she didnt know, or people or places. If her first interactions with Jonathon had been any indication, life would be full of difficulties and frustration. It was unfair, but hopefully, not so strict.

The girl walked still as she pondered these thoughts, coming upon the main room before long. Couch, table, it looked cozy enough, save for the trash, a bag of McDonalds thrown lazily on the floor beside the front door. She wondered what that meant about him as a person. Surely something. Her attention quickly wandered to the open window beside the door. The sun was already up, though cloudy and dreary, the wind rustling the trees and leaving the street quiet, devoid of anyone, anything. Her dark eyes darted to the front door, overtaken with an urge to go out, despite the bitter cold. Something told her the air would feel better, filling her lungs, to have something more natural than carpet beneath her feet. She looked over her shoulder before scurrying to the door, which was unlocked. She turned the knob and stepped outside standing there for the longest time, grateful for the instinct. It was freezing, but better than his stuffy house.
 
Jonathan stripped down in the bathroom, hoping Ella would be okay on her own while he took a quick shower. First things first, he took a quick piss, sighing as he broke the seal that had miraculously kept his bed dry for the night. Once that was taken care of he stepped beneath the red hot water, the heat almost instantly soothing him. The shower gel, lynx Africa, was worked up into a lather as he cleaned himself as quickly as he could, wary of leaving her alone for too long. Once he was done he grabbed fresh boxers from the radiator to the side of the room and pulled the slacks back on. He had to check in her. "There, all clean, the paracetamol is starting to kick in so maybe we can figure out how you got he..." He was talking as he left the room, but Ella was no longer there. He swore under his breath, immediately leaving the room to search for her.

It didn't take long to find her, he could feel the strong breeze as he practically ran down the stairs. Without thinking how it would look if he was seen or about how she would feel about it he grabbed her from behind, an arm around her waist and one around her chest. Lifting her a little off the ground he carried her back into the house, kicking the door closed behind him before he released her. He was already red from embarrassment and hoping none of the neighbors had seen her. "Fucking hell, good thing I saw you before the police did...what were you thinking, going out naked like that?" He was resting his back against the heavy wooden door, his head starting to pound again.

He didn't want her to cry again, and it was clear she wasn't understanding that walking around naked wasn't something that she would get away with for very long. "Ella, you can't go outside with no clothes on...you'll be arrested, you'll go to prison, do you know what that is?" He kept his tone low, trying not to scare her. "Honestly you nearly gave me a fucking heart attack...we're you not comfortable in the bed? Come on, let's find you something to wear." He didn't have any female clothes but he had some things that would at least cover her up, and he took her hand, trying to lead her towards the bedroom again and not stare at her naked body.
 
She gasped when suddenly there was an arm around her waist and chest, which picked her up and ferried her back in the house. Physically, she didn't fight him, not that she had the chance, but just as soon as he set her down, she was ready to walk back out. Yes, it was freezing. Yes, she had goosebumps, her feet were beat red and her fingers a deep pink, along with her nose, but she didnt care. She could come back in and bask in the heat in his bedroom when she was finished. She wanted to be outside, to breathe in that crisp air, so cold it burned on the way down, so cold it made her eyes water and her nose stuffy, so cold she couldn't feel her toes. She wanted to feel the bitter wind slapping against her exposed, pale body, the stinging sensation when it was too cold, how it pricked her like needles.

"Why can't I go outside?" She asked, perplexed and upset at just how intensely he reacted to her decision. If nothing else, his heaving as he slumped against the door quelled the notion she had to push past him and go back out. Though, she was also very curious why he seemed so upset about it, himself. She still held that notion of modesty, that clothing was required, but to her it felt like a pleasantry, not a necessity. Did it really matter so much? Surely they wouldn't lock her away like a common criminal just for being outside in her most natural state, would they? With a long pause as her answer, he spoke again and before she knew it, she was being dragged back to his bedroom. She shook her head, pulling her hand away from him.

"Why do I need to wear something?" She insisted, stepping back from him, in the direction of the front door. Clothes looked uncomfortable, and she truly didnt see the point, especially in his home, when he was already well acquainted with her nude form. "What's wrong with this?" She questioned, gesturing down at her body. He was so difficult, denying her the outside and now to be nude. Was it so difficult to be accommodating? "I want to go back outside." She added, now convinced the dispute of wearing clothing was finished, that she would get her way so easily, but really, why not? Why shouldn't she be allowed to do as she pleased in her own skin?
 
Jonathan had expected her to come with him. He didn't know why he'd expected that, in hindsight it seemed pretty foolish, she had proven to be unpredictable at best so far and she continued on that trend. She pulled her hand away from him, practically yelling at him as she gestured to her own body. He couldn't help but look at her...she was perfection, every inch of her seemed to be free of blemishes and while she was starting to turn a little pink it was enough to briefly distract him. When he looked up again, he sighed. How would he answer her?

"Ella...nothing, nothing is wrong with that but...it's what people do!" He hadn't figured anything out in how to answer her, he just had to wing it. This was possibly the first time this situation had ever come up, ever. "Children might see! Or angry parents or...the police! You can't just go outside naked, you will be arrested!" He approached her, stopping only about a foot in front of her and placing a hand on her shoulder. He didn't want to force her but he would if he had to.

"Come with me, get dressed in something or have a shower if you prefer and then talk about it. If you go out and get arrested they won't be nice to you, they will never stop asking questions." He reached down for her hand, to try and lead her up stairs again but if she still insisted on resistance he would grab her and throw her over his shoulder, carry her up himself. It was for her own good, she needed to listen to him or else this situation was going to get a whole lot worse.
 
All his words, convincing, logical and sound as they might be, went in one ear and out the other. She didnt understand why his will superseded her own. There was no one outside, there were no police around and surely, they would be so kind as to leave her be, to let her engage in activity that made her feel good. If not that, then what were these people doing with this gift of life? Repressing impulses, denying themselves pleasure for no reason? She couldn't believe that. They wouldn't have the heaters, the fancy homes, the blankets and soft carpet if they were so strict. Instead of listening to him, taking his words at face value, she believed he was the one wrong, something must have been wrong with him to deny himself and her these pleasures. Alas, his threat, subtle as it may have been, worked. She would do anything, anything not to be questioned relentlessly all over again. Whether he was telling the truth or not... she wouldn't take that chance.

With a frustrated sigh, she took his outstretched hand and followed him upstairs, to his bedroom. She was disgruntled, aggravated with him, and it was impossible to hide, not that she had any desire to. Another choice imposed upon her would be next, shower or clothes? The shower sounded incredible, the clothes not so much. Both ended in what she understood to be heavy, itchy, restraining fabric. "Will they arrest me for being naked in here?" She asked, blatant tones of sarcasm almost drowning out the words, despite not being entirely aware of the answer. Certain knowledge came naturally, but that mixed with her own understanding of desire and instinct blurred the lines immensely. She didnt expect him to understand her perceptions, but she couldn't figure out why he wasnt having the very same battle himself, and worse yet, why he seemed intent on preventing her from ever figuring it out on her own.

Ella took her hand from his, in a gentle manner, though it ended with a huff and arms crossed over her chest. That was a new position, but it felt right. It felt safe. Her attention wandered briefly, as she contemplated the options he had given her. She had to get dressed either way, but she supposed that if she could shower first, she would at least get some sort of relaxation and good feeling out of it. Like an angry child, she dropped her arms and marched to the bathroom, fully expecting he would follow. Without so much as a glance over her shoulder, she entered the bathroom and stood in front of the tub. "Show me how to shower." She all but demanded, not quite so rude as she had been before, simply impolite and without regard, as she had been that morning about the heat. It just didnt occur to her yet that the way she said things might matter.
 
She seemed to be deep in thought again, Jonathan had already noticed she did that a lot. Had to be hard, not knowing who you were. He smiled sympathetically, trying to at least show some form of emotion she would understand. Her question came out of nowhere and he actually laughed, his face splitting into a grin while he nodded in affirmation. "Yeah, you can wear as much or as little as you like in here, so long as we keep the curtains closed. Still might get in trouble if somebody is looking in, I'm not actually sure it's against the law if it's an accident though..." He was starting to slip into his comfort zone even with her completely naked in front of him. He always felt more at peace while he was talking, he liked to gab, maybe a little too much.

She pulled her hand from his after a rather aggressive stance and then marched past him up the stairs. Shaking his head, he followed her up, unable to avert his eyes from her rear which was placed level with his head due to the stairs themselves. He didn't want to let her out of his sight, though she really should be wearing something, she was far more distracting like this. "You know, even if you don't want to, clothes are good...don't you have any modesty? Men are going to stare at you, fuck, I'm going to stare at you, your ass at least." He wasn't trying to be creepy or too forward, he was just trying to reason with her. In the bathroom, she finally spoke, and he chuckled again.

"Sure, though I only have men's soap in here, nothing feminine sorry." He was having difficulty figuring out what she knew and what she didn't, she seemed to figure out some things but the shower looked to be stumping her. He reached in and turned the dial to a hot temperature, the showerhead firing out a powerful spray towards the floor where it was aimed immediately. "Simple really, you step under it, the dial here controls the temperature and the soap there..." He pointed towards the bar of soap and bottles of shower gel. "Those are what you wash yourself with. Oh, don't slip, the mat should help but it can be dangerous." He was already backing towards the door. "If you need anything else just give me a shout okay?"
 
There was that word again, having so oft played in her head, modesty. She was aware of the definition, she may have even understood it in some context, but to apply it to her in his home, she couldn't grasp. Why did it matter if she was naked? They didn't have a relationship, she wasnt particularly concerned for her safety here, nor were there any police at the ready to shackle her. Of course, they were strangers, and perhaps that drove his insistence, but she had been in his bed, and whether he realized it or not, he had been staring at her all morning. There seemed not to be any sense in covering up now, when her natural state was so comfortable, and he was so intimately acquainted with her figure. "Why does it matter if you stare at my ass?" She asked, truly, completely innocent. If anything, she didnt understand why her butt would be of interest to him.

If nothing else, she was relaxed by his newfound smile, the way he chuckled after she spoke. It didnt yet occur to her to wonder why he was chuckling, it simply served as a way to put her nerves at ease in this stressful situation. At least, that was the case when she wasnt throwing a temper tantrum and expecting a thorough handholding in every new venture. No, instead she remained in a huff, watching rather intently as he reached down and turned the knob. The water that shot out like a bullet scared her beyond reason, causing her to grab Jonathan's arm and jump back, heart pounding, threatening to beat out of her chest. It only calmed her just how much he failed to react. Her hand stayed all but attached to his arm, and she remained back from the shower. "Its supposed to do that?" She surmised, convinced now more than ever that he was insane. She expected a shower to be gentle, soothing, not burning hot water that beat into your back.

She heard everything he said, unsure the relevance that he had nothing feminine for her to use, and for the moment, ignoring his directions, as he distracted her by slipping away, an attempt to inch out the door. Ella reached out to him again, grabbing his hand now. "You cant just leave me here," she insisted, looking like a lost puppy as she peered back at the running water. "Cant you stay with me?" She asked, practically begging. It was strange, she knew, in her mind, that she would be fine, and that there was virtually no danger here, that she could easily navigate shampoo lids, body wash, a shower head, but she felt anxiety again. Fear, even. It was ridiculous, and she knew that, but she was certain that his presence and his capability to protect her, whether or not necessary, would make her feel better.
 
Jonathan opened his mouth to answer her, but closed it almost immediately as he tried to think of the right words. She legitimately didn't seem to have any idea why he would want to stare at her ass, did she not know about sexuality at all? Didn't she know how men were pretty much always horny and could not stare at a girl like her? It wasn't completely true, but right now he was having a hard time denying it. "Because it's cute, sexy, because you're hot and it makes me wanna...just forget it. I'll deal with it." He grinned sheepishly, this wasn't a conversation he had ever expected to have.

Her reaction to the shower made it a herculean effort to not laugh, how could somebody be scared of the water like that? When he thought about it a little more he supposed...but it was hard to suddenly put himself in her shoes, as somebody who had seen this thousands of times. "Hey, ummm, Ella...relax, it's okay..." He placed his hand on her shoulder, trying to at least be soothing. He didn't know if it was really working. "It won't hurt you, it's just a shower. Just hot water, not scalding hot, I made it a little cooler than I normally use." He gave her an easy smile and pushed her gently towards the shower, stopping just a little short.

"Okay, I'll stay. Look." He stuck his arm back under the water, the heat far less soothing now but still pleasant. "See? Doesn't hurt, it even feels great." He didn't want to force her into the shower, he figured that would be much more traumatic than anything else he could do. He grabbed some of the shower gel and squeezed it onto his arm. Sticking it back beneath the stream he rubbed it into his skin, the scent mild but still overpowering everything else as he worked it into a lather. "This is what you use to wash, you use your hands or the sponge. Easy, right?"
 
When he made the effort to push her, ever so gently, toward the shower, Ella stood eerily still. Any doubt she had was erased, he was absolutely out of his mind if he thought he could shove her into his shower and scurry away. Thankfully, something she had done swayed his favor and sympathy, as he agreed to stay with her and even showed her how harmless the water was. She intentionally stood behind him, watching intently as he lathered his arm with the soap, subsequently washing away with the supposed warm water. The smell was pungent as anything, but she supposed it would wash down the drain afterward. At least, she didnt smell anything so strong on him.

Finally, she nodded in response to his question. Of course, it looked easy enough. Easy was never the issue. The issue was how much irrational fear had bubbled up when he turned on the water like a brute. "Don't leave," She demanded again, taking a moment before breathing in deeply and stepping ahead of him. Another moment and she stepped under the water, letting it fall on her body. Her hair became slick, beads of water trickling down her body, from head to toe. He had been right, it did feel good, soothing and relaxing. It was even serving to calm down both the fear and frustration he had managed to elicit from her in such a short period of time. With that, she peaked from the pouring water, to ensure he was still there.

Before long, she was lathering her body. She opened the soap just as he had, pooling it in her hand before applying it to her chest, neck and upper arms. She tried rubbing it in with her hands, but instead reached for the sponge, using it to harshly press the soap into her, leaving her skin a delicate pink but so relieved as the water washed back over her. She went on, down her arms, her stomach, hips, thighs and legs. It was refreshing in ways she hadn't been able to imagine. However, without any warning, she gestured him forward, all but shoving the sudsy sponge into his hands. She turned around and pulled up her wet, stringy hair before looking over her shoulder. "Can you get my back? I can't see."
 
Jonathan had no intention of leaving, not while she was clearly so scared, but she felt the need to remind him not to before she stepped into the shower, phrasing it more like a demand than a request. He nodded, backing off a little to let her have some space. "Try to relax Ella, I'm not going anywhere. You'll see, it's perfectly safe." Once she stepped in he watched her a little longer, he could visibly see how much she was letting go of her fear and relaxing under the hot water as it cascaded down her body, the little droplets running together, down her chest, over her naval...

He made a soft growly noise in the back of his throat, the kind he made when he was aroused and turned away. Watching her wasn't going to help him when he could already feel himself growing erect from watching her and he definitely didn't want her to notice. If she hadn't seemed so scared he might still have suspicions this was just a prank, a girl with no inhibitions hired to fuck with his mind but it seemed so real, her reactions, the fear in her eyes. Could that be faked? He wasn't entirely sure.

He heard her voice, not quite registering what she had asked at first. He blinked, looking at the sponge in her hand. She was standing with her back to him, close to the edge of that shower. It took him a moment to register what she had said. "Uh, sure why not..." It was about all he could say, moving closer and taking the sponge, starting to run it lightly over her back and shoulders, following the gentle curves of her body, concentrating entirely on trying to make his swelling go down. He wasn't a small man, if it persisted he was bound to be noticed and he had a feeling he'd have more explanations to give, ones he didn't really want to.
 
Soothed exclusively not by his words, but his tone, Ella began to tune out Jonathon, focusing on the rhythmic melody as the water hit the floor beneath her, and streamed down her skin, forming new trails with every drop. It was better than the heater, better than his breath, different to the cold air and better yet. The sponge scratching against her gentle skin hurt in just the same way, but that mild redness washed away with the water. It felt fresh afterward, cleansed, and she felt relieved, especially after standing out in that cold as long as she did, not that she didnt plan on pulling that off again. Maybe if she could find somewhere private, where no one would bother her. Maybe he could help her find a safe place, and see just how much excitement it brought her. Maybe then he would understand.

It was almost unnerving how much her thoughts drifted while under the water, almost like a dream. Eventually, she had handed him the sponge, holding her wet hair up behind her head so he could rub circles into her skin with the soap. It felt even better when he did it, evident in the sweet, vibrating moan that followed her head tilting. The lower his focus fell down her curves, the more her back arched away from him, very unintentionally pushing her hips in his direction. She could feel how noncommittal his movements seemed, unsure if he was distracted or something else, but she peered over her shoulder, falling out of her would-be trance for but a moment. Still, she hadn't noticed the bulge forming in his trousers, simply unthinking of looking at him there. Instead, confusion colored her expression at just how perplexed and distraught he appeared. "Are you alright?" She asked, eyes gazing at him still, unsure if she'd even managed to catch his attention.
 
Jonathan was doing his best not to get distracted by how close he was to her, how he was washing her naked body, running the sponge over her. It was stupid, he wasn't some teenage virgin with his first naked girl, he had confidence, he'd done this before, this very act and yet somehow it felt different now. Guilt was eating at him, like the very implication that she had no idea how aroused he was starting to feel towards her, that she might not even understand the concept at all was making it wrong. Like he was being subversive, hiding it from her. He'd tried to get the words out, but how did he explain this? He almost had to move back when she arched, her rear coming towards him, dangerously close to the evidence of his lust. He didn't even notice she was looking at him until she started to speak.

His head snapped up to look at her while his hand kept moving, pressing more firmly without his conscious effort behind it. "Yeah, sorry, I'm just..." Again he was finding it so hard to articulate. "Just trying to be careful, you're very...distracting and I'm trying my best not to take advantage, and..." He sighed, everything he would normally say didn't apply since normally the girl would damn sure be aware of what he was feeling. "It's nothing Ella, don't worry about it okay? Just try to enjoy the shower, is it as bad as you thought it would be?" While answering her, his hand had wandered lower anyway, the sponge rubbing over the soft curves of her rear, something he quickly adjusted when he started paying attention to what he was doing again.
 
"No," She shook her head slowly, obviously gone just as soon as he had instructed her not to worry about it. What could be so distracting about a body that he had been staring at all morning? Surely, anything he desired to figure out from her figure, he had by now. He pressed harder when speaking to her, the sponge drifting lower down her back. It did feel different, pushing firm against the sensitive skin of her bottom, just the same as the cold air piercing her skin and inflaming her nerves. She still didn't understand why it felt any differently, nor why he now proclaimed that he didnt wish to take advantage of her. The phrase itself threw what seemed to be a constant state of confusion deeper upon itself. What was there to take advantage of? What purpose could her body serve him, so much that he would even think it? A few more silent moments as he scrubbed her skin and it began to occur to her that sexuality may have been playing a role in it.

It was a topic her conscious had been actively avoiding. Everything else was already so confusing, and the topic was layered, nuanced and just so complicated. Her body tensed, slight and gradual, as she came to the vague conclusion that she was making him uncomfortable. A little more compassion on her features now, Ella looked over her shoulder again. He looked like he was in physical pain. She sighed softly, turning slowly, making a subtle effort not to display her intimately exposed body to him so prominently again. She tried to hide a little, with her arms, legs tight, retreating into herself and further back. She reached out for the sponge, shooing him in the direction of the door. "Could you find something for me to wear, please? I'll finish washing on my own." She waited for him to leave, feeling downright evil for not noticing what her selfish demands had done to him.

More difficult, but she figured out just how to clean every inch of her new body, without his help this time. It wasnt so complicated, just easier with his help. The last few minutes without him were full of confusion, wondering if she was right, that it was something sexual, wondering if she should ask him, wondering just how much care she needed to express in the future about her actions. It seemed to be affecting him more than it did her. Finished, she reached down and turned off the water, just the same as he had turned it on. Her eyes sought a towel, all the information still entering her mind like a trickling stream; some things came to her, some didnt. She dried some and wrapped the towel around her body, leaving her hair to sit down her neck and wet against her back. She decided, after a few minutes, to walk back out into his bedroom, hoping he would be there so she could ask him if his discomfort was from her body. Though, another part of her resisted, not keen on overwhelming him the same way she had been so overwhelmed. Lost in thought all over again, she stepped out of the bathroom and searched for him or the clothing she had asked for.
 
Jonathan continued to scrub her back, slowly growing just a little more comfortable though that wasn't saying much, he was still completely focused on not touching her inappropriately even with the barrier of the sponge between them. It was subtle at first but he started to notice a change in her posture, the way she reacted to the sponge. His head spun...was he making her uncomfortable now? She'd been almost apathetic to the idea of him washing her, but when she turned around she was practically hiding herself from him and asked him for clothes of all things. "Err...sure, I'm sure I can find something for now, just be careful okay?" He wasn't missing the chance to get out of there, when she'd turned and taken the sponge his hand had fell to shield his not so little problem from her eyes.

He retreated back to his bedroom, finding his vape on the floor and picking it up, pressing the switch on it to check it was still functional. He smiled as it lit up, taking a hit and sighing softly, it definitely helped with the stress. Rooting through his wardrobe he looked for things that might work for her, knowing he was probably going to have to go out to get suitable clothing but finding something temporary was important. He found one of his old t-shirts, pale green, but he could do nothing about pants. He did have some striped pyjamas bottoms which at least looked comfy. A clean pair of boxer shorts joined the mismatched set.

He was just done pulling on a shirt for himself, a blue cotton t-shirt with black circular patterns on it when she found him, a towel wrapped around her like she was suddenly concerned with modesty. Maybe he'd gotten lucky? He smiled, trying to keep her at ease while he held out the clothes in his arms. "Here you go. They aren't really very matching, but they do the job and are warmer than nothing. Want to try them on? I can look away." At least he wasn't hard anymore and didn't have to hide.
 
"Thanks," She offered a smile, making maybe her hardest effort yet not to be selfish. It was unequivocally the most challenging thing she'd done yet, and self-imposed, accountable only to herself. The whole ordeal made her want to curl back up in bed and forget about anything but the warm air, or the warm water. However, she knew it wasn't a very good idea, at least if she planned to get any answers and gain any more experience. Better yet, she didnt know that she was welcome back in his bed, not that she had been in the first place. All these social nuances were occurring to her, in no particular order and as slow as they possibly could. Her reality was coming into view the more she looked outside herself, and it truly made her more scared and unsure than she cared to admit, and yet she seemed to keep alienating the only person who had offered her any sort of safety and guidance.

The realization was greatly unnerving, making her realize she would have to be a little more open and thoughtful with him. It just wasnt going to be easy. She took the clothes and nodded when he offered to look away, waiting until he had to set them down on the bed. She stared for a moment, figuring out just how everything should be put on. The shorter pants, first, barely staying up over the curve at the top of her hips. Then, the longer legged pants, one leg at a time. They had a drawstring which she pulled taut. She fumbled to tie the string before giving up temporarily, planning to ask him just as soon as she was decent. Nearly there, she reached for the shirt, sliding it over her head. It was certainly more restricting than her nudity had been, but it was warmer, softer and hopefully, less strenuous on Jonathon. "Could you help me with this?" She asked, holding up the baggy pajamas at the waistband, extending the tie in his direction. "I think I know how... but every time I try it falls apart," Truthfully, she didnt know if letting him in on these confusing thoughts would be helpful or not, but the opposite sure wasn't working.
 
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