[Story] Eternal Cocoon: Descent into Oblivion

In the shadowed fringes of a decaying city, Elena awoke to an abyss of utter paralysis. Her body was a frozen prison, sight stolen, voice silenced, every muscle locked in merciless rigidity. Only the mechanical rasp of her breath pierced the void. Her final memory: a solitary evening at a dingy cinema, some forgettable thriller blurring into nothingness. Had she dozed off? The aftermath was a gaping black hole, swallowing everything that followed.

Elena was 28, with long raven hair framing a strikingly beautiful face that masked a profound detachment. Scarred by failed romances, she had fled to this anonymous metropolis for a soul-crushing job, becoming a ghost among strangers. She wasn’t shy, merely incompatible with the world, pretty enough to turn heads, yet solitary, forging no bonds. The work drained her; evenings dissolved into gym rituals, sparse meals, internet escapes, or dog-eared books. Television’s empty chatter repelled her. Boredom birthed darker vices: online sex toys for self-indulgent nights, human touch reduced to occasional bar flings, raw, fleeting releases that never lingered.

As awareness clawed back, Elena realized her eyelids were fused shut, no light seeping through. Limbs refused command, twitching futilely against an invisible vise. A car accident? Paralysis? Terror exploded, heart pounding like a trapped animal. Breathing wasn’t hers to control, hijacked, rhythmic. This was no hospital; it was a tomb on life support, shrouded in eternal dark. Panic surged until consciousness fled into black.

Gym sessions sculpted her lean body twice weekly, a point of fierce pride. But solitude bred escalation: web dives into bondage forums. BDSM’s humiliations disgusted her, yet self-bondage ignited a forbidden thrill. Tentative trials with torn sheets escalated to near-catastrophic nights, bound so tightly dawn brought agonizing freedom, work a haze of exhaustion.

Awakening repeatedly, Elena fought exhaustion from pointless struggles. Time dissolved; dreams teased escape, only to shatter against reality, still entombed, form-fitting shell unyielding. No pain, yet no sensation beyond the snug, warm constriction. Hunger and thirst gnawed, death’s shadow looming, until a bizarre fullness bloomed in her gut, no swallow, no taste. Force-fed via tube. Reassuring, in a twisted way: someone sustained this nightmare.

Online, she fixated on “live mummification” after a museum’s ancient sarcophagus haunted her, a craving for total erasure. Chatrooms yielded Marcus: brooding web designer, mid-thirties, boyish charm veiling a voyeuristic fetish born from childhood erections at bound women in old films. Messages flowed; a public meet escalated to his flat.

Initial sessions: plastic wrap coiling skin, duct tape armoring into erotic rigidity. Ecstasy overwhelmed, heat building, sweat pooling, pressure points blooming into sweet agony. Bandages followed: ACE layers cushioned, Vet Wrap cinching snug. Vibrators randomized orgasms through nights. Endurance pushed: weekends encased, sustained on juices via straw, bedpans for waste.

But Elena craved oblivion, waking encased, memory erased. Marcus enlisted allies: Dr. Harlan, manipulative hypnotist-therapist, and his wife Dr. Vivian, icy ER medic. Hypnosis wiped her mind during a “session”; a sedated cinema outing delivered her to their lair.

Stripped, shaved bald, catheterized, enema-plugged, feeding/breathing tubes inserted, custom dental gag locking jaws, molded earplugs sealing sound. Electrodes glued for torment; goggles for blinding pulses, earphones for disorienting audio. Seamless catsuit donned, foam padded, Vet Wrapped, then rigid synthetic casting fiber, layers thick, limbs splayed neutrally, fingers/thumbs individually immobilized. Over three-quarters inch thick in places, a featureless white statue, anonymous and eternal.

Elena awoke in hell: void absolute, panic hyperventilating until tranquilized via tube. Feedings every four hours; daily enemas; rotations on gurney to avert clots and sores. Anticoagulants pumped; monitors tracked frailty as muscle wasted.

Stimuli tormented: pulsing lights/sounds hypnotizing; electro-shocks jabbing skin to vibrating ecstasy; plugs inflated to splitting agony, bladder denied release until madness loomed. Orgasms forced repeatedly, waves of shattering pleasure amid terror. Vivian’s cruel watch: disembodied voice taunting, random shocks with lightning flashes, chaotic rotations, internal assaults blending pain and climax until Elena’s psyche shredded.

Dreams bled into reality: drowning in black, endless forests. Quiet lulls suspended existence, worries evaporated, floating in void. Yet agitation grew; weakness deepened over four grueling weeks.

Eye-tracking via goggles confirmed awareness. Choice offered: release or continue. Hesitation yielded to weary assent.

Cast-saw’s scream vibrated bone-deep; nicks feared fatal. Shell halved, tubes extracted, feeble squirms. Naked, emaciated, pale, bald fragility exposed. Eyes unsealed to dim light; gag removed. Marcus’s tender “Welcome back” echoed as dizziness gripped.

Recovery crawled: bedridden days, raw throat, supported steps. Mirror horror, skeletal, ghostly, yet short stubble suited her pixie rebirth. Hair bleached white-blond, spiked defiant.

Job quit; possessions abandoned. Craving persisted, intensified. They relocated to a secluded house, one room a dedicated chamber of torment. Bondage resumed, deeper, darker experiments knowing her limits. Their union, forged in oblivion’s forge, was the most intimate she’d known: love twisted with addiction, pleasure devouring boundaries.

Elena emerged transformed, relaxed, assured, reborn in darkness. The cocoon’s allure never faded; it whispered eternally, promising return. In Marcus’s arms, she treasured the abyss they shared, where self dissolved into exquisite nothingness.