Steve yawned, stretched his arms back and tried to focus on the unfeasibly small red numbers of the alarm clock. In front of him a monitor cast a harsh glow over the cluttered desk and mound of computer equipment scattered throughout the small room. Hidden within the shadows of the room were mounds of books, more computer equipment, stacks of magazines and the occasional pile of S-DVD’s waiting to be sent to clients. It had taken yet another all night session but his latest special order project was finally finished, and he quickly, but carefully, ran through the usual back-up processes.
It had been ten years since the first full-immersion virtual reality suits had been built and the computer landscape had seemingly changed overnight. It had started, as such things often do, as a military project, but once the basic problems of creating realistic feedback and interaction had been solved the technology had moved into the public domain amazingly quickly, and surprisingly cheaply to boot. The basic suit these days went for about £500, plus another few hundred for a computer capable of running it and they’d almost completely replaced the old keyboard / mouse combo. Even basic data input was handled by an operator with a headset now, voice input in most companies, direct thought input in those that really needed high throughputs, the human mind effectively becoming part of the system itself, acting as an interpreter between the real world and the virtual one.
It was in the home VR had really taken off though. Someone wearing a VR suit could not only talk to people all over the world, but also see and touch them as well. Anyone that had seen the explosion in the adult entertainment industry on the Internet in the mid nineties could have predicted that such a feature would be a big selling point. As usual more socially acceptable uses had followed, and as the technology was refined it pretty much obliterated the more traditional software market in the space of a few years. Okay, some things couldn’t be simulated yet without visiting a dedicated centre (realistic movement being the obvious one) but on the whole the vast majority of consumers were enthralled by this latest toy and took to it in a way unprecedented in the entertainment industry. Besides, the mind seemed to do a very good job of fooling itself into believing what the body saw and experienced in the simulations and most users would have sworn they were moving anyway.
Of course there were always those that wanted a little more than the usual mass market experience, and VR was no exception. People would pay surprisingly large sums of money to have their own VR experience tailor made to their exact requirements, and that gave rise to a new breed of software developers. With VR the software could effectively create it’s own graphics and sound from a reference point, usually a photograph or basic recording. Add a set of pictures of the celebrity of the month that covered every angle of their body and the computer could do the rest, even taking a good guess at what their skin would look like close up and their figure under whatever they were wearing in the supplied photographs.
Such techniques meant traditional graphic artists were virtually obsolete for all but the highest-specification simulations, which is were people like Steve came in to the picture. Skilled enough to set up the scenario his real talent was in imagination, in story telling and designing the logic the program would use to immerse the user in the virtual world. Over the last couple of years Steve had gained a reputation as a real ‘go to’ man, someone who could take even the most complex request and figure out how to make it work. But it was his other skills that had landed this current job, and he was looking forward to seeing how it turned out.
The request had been simple enough, a basic outline of wanting to interact with a famous celebrity, in this case a movie star, in an environment that definitely wasn’t PG-13. Steve had spent some time with the client and had been impressed; impressed enough to put in such long nights to get the project finished a week earlier than he’d normally agree to. The fact that she had been gorgeous helped, but it had been her attitude that had intrigued him. At 31 she was running a small company and making a damn good go of it, and as with most people she wanted to use VR to take a break from her normal life. The instruction had been simple: “Make me scared, make me let go of myself, let me loose control”. A simple enough request, but one that had proven surprisingly difficult to write. Still, he thought he finally had it and, with a temporary character in place of the client had watched things unfold from his ‘fly-on-the-wall’ view. While he didn’t know if this had been what she was expecting, he was certain it met her requirements. With a shrug he packaged up the disc in a plain black slipcover, added a brief covering note with the instructions and his contact details and put the whole lot into an envelope. He’d drop it in the post tomorrow and the client should get it the next day. Exhausted he turned off the computer and headed to bed, almost collapsing onto it as sleep claimed him, visions of a silk-clad dominatrix dancing in his dreams…
Fiona arrived home a little after eight in the evening, her feet aching after spending nearly twelve hours meeting and greeting clients during their annual review meeting, her normally perfect blonde hair starting to frizz at the ends from the continued climate changes of the air-conditioned board room and the sweltering heat of the city day. A quick glance at her answer phone reassured her she hadn’t missed anything important and she slipped her jacket off her shoulders and onto a clothes hook mounted in the short hallway. She turned to check the basket behind the door for any post and stopped dead. The brown envelope lay there innocently enough but she knew what it would contain and her heart skipped a beat. She’d been a little dubious when Liz had introduced her to that strange man who claimed to be a VR developer, and though some of those initial misgivings had faded when she’d actually talked to him, she’d still doubted he’d actually deliver on time, or for that matter, at all.
And now, there in front of her, so close she could touch it, was the culmination of an almost fifteen year fantasy, as dreamt up by a pale, pony-tailed guy she’d known for maybe a month. Was she sure she wanted to go through with this, what if it wasn’t what she was expecting, what she wanted, and what she…needed? But there was the problem, now that this particular fantasy was actually in her hands how could she not try it, at least just once?
After a long moment Fiona darted forward and snatched the disk from the mailbox and almost reverently walked into the bedroom, placing the disk, still in it’s packaging, down next to the computer. She quickly stripped out of her suit, hesitating slightly as her fingers reached for the VR suit. No, she thought, do this properly, on the off chance the geek had actually delivered what was promised. She stepped into the adjacent bathroom and turned on the shower, bringing it to a point where the water was hot enough to steam and barely within a comfortable limit against her bare skin. She stood under the streaming flow, letting the water caress her, easing the aches and tensions in her muscles, leaving her almost as relaxed as if she’d had a full massage at her local gym. She quickly dried herself off then headed back into the bedroom, slipping the VR suit over her smooth skin, feeling the sensors adjust the fit slightly to make a good contact with every inch of her body. Finally she pulled the hood up over her head, the usual moment of panic taking her as she sealed the front of the suit over her mouth and nose. It lasted but a moment though as a deep breath reassured her the suit’s thin membrane was working properly, allowing her to breathe normally even with the fabric covering her face.
The suit came to life, feeding her normal surroundings to the lenses covering her eyes, allowing her to move as naturally as if she were wearing nothing at all as she stepped to the computer, checked the limiters were set to prevent her walking outside of the clear six foot by seven area in front of the terminal and loaded the disk. Her hand hovered over the keyboard, a few last thoughts chasing themselves through her mind, then a flash of determination as she stabbed the commit key. The room around her seemed to flex, then stretch away, the wall in front of her pulling out into a tunnel that seemed to reach to infinity. Then, like an elastic band snapping back into shape she was catapulted through the tunnel, the sides of the passage blurring as she entered the program.
Fiona looked around and found herself in a room of mirrors. It was like stepping inside of a diamond, the small area of floor she stood in the only flat area as the walls immediately started slopping upwards, presenting multiple images of her body as she stared in fascination at the sight. Her digital persona was dressed in a loose, flowing white dress, low cut and designed to flatter her figure. Not that she needed much help in that area, she was a natural beauty and was one of those people that seem to keep their figure no matter what they do. An energetic lifestyle and regular trips to the gym had helped as well and the results were spectacular. Her blond hair seemed to flow down her back and move almost on its own, as if a gentle wind was caressing it although there was no obvious place for such a breeze to come from. The same breeze moved the dress itself, the long, flowing strips of fabric only secured at the start and end of each run, and then only loosely, giving the nearest possible impression of being naked while maintaining her dignity.
One side of the diamond seemed to split and fold down, revealing a darkly lit corridor beyond, metal walls and ceiling, a wooden floor with only the occasional torch flickering in almost medieval looking holders on the walls to light her way. She stepped forwards and found to her surprise that the elaborate costume she wore didn’t restrict her movement in the least, being just short enough to prevent anything getting trapped underfoot as she walked and the fasteners being positioned in the most natural places possible. In her mind she revised her initial opinion of the programmer, he at least had an eye for clothing, maybe she could get him to help design her summer wardrobe next year.
After she’d walked maybe twenty feet down the corridor she heard a grinding noise from behind her and turned to see the edge of the diamond reseal itself, leaving her trapped in this reality, at least for as long as she wished to be. Curious now she walked down the corridor, her eyes adjusting to the flickering firelight as she did so, and she thought she could just make out, beyond the farthest flickering torch a wooden door mounted in the wall to her left. As she walked she found herself becoming more and more nervous, she hadn’t really specified what she wanted to happen, and this lack of anything obviously threatening was getting to her. Finally she reached the door and reached out tentatively towards it, ready to jump back at the first hint of anything coming through the portal towards her.
The door swung open silently, and the sight beyond froze her mind for a second as she struggled to comprehend what she saw. The room was maybe three hundred feet long, about double the length of an Olympic swimming pool, with one door mounted at the far end, seemingly opposite this one. In between there was what appeared to be a sea of feathers, twisting and rolling as if they were liquid, the surface of this strange sea undulating as if there were real waves pulsing through it. The walls were slick, and the only way to cross that room was obvious, if she wanted to get across the only way was to swim through. Considering what she was wearing such a crossing would be torturous in the extreme and she backed away from the doorway, turning to try and find another way around.
As she looked back down the corridor she noticed something odd, the torches were going out, slowly, steadily and moving towards her in a growing cloud of darkness they were being methodically snuffed out. From the heart of that darkness Fiona would have heard she heard a soft rustle, a sound that seemed totally out of place in this would of steel and darkness. As she watched she noticed that, within the blackness moving towards her, there was a darker shape, a shadow that seemed to move on it’s own. Just as the realisation of what she was seeing hit her, the last torch went out and a figure tackled her gently but firmly to the ground.
For a moment she panicked, and that was all her assailant needed. She felt herself being rolled over towards the doorway and reached out, desperation fuelling her moves as her fingers found the doorframe and locked on, her legs pressed against the opposite edge. The light from the room spilled out into the corridor, illuminating long, shapely legs, clad in a catsuit that seemed darker than anything she’d ever seen. Her mind registered the fact that the suit was made out of silk, rather than the more traditional leather or rubber, but she had little time to ponder the significance of that titbit of information as she felt her assailant reach down and wrap strong arms around her legs and lift her entire lower body, from hips to feet, off the ground and throw it over the threshold.
Fiona could feel the occasional touch on her bare feet, a gentle caress by the feathery ocean below her and fought to hold back her laughter, knowing she couldn’t afford to loose her grip on the doorframe as she tried desperately to lift her legs up, away from their seemingly inevitable fate. But her attacker was too quick, already she was lying down next to the struggling blonde, legs extended, feet pushing at her hips to prevent her getting any leverage as silk-clad fingers descended on her exposed underarms.
In the back of her mind Fiona had expected the first touch to be a light one, but again she was surprised as a hard, almost brutal sensation exploded on her exposed side, fingers scrapping and searching over her armpit and ribs, causing her to convulse in surprise as her body betrayed her. Mouth open as laughter was ripped from her lungs and throat, she felt her grip slip slightly and a moment of sheer panic fuelled her, and she actually made a little ground against the seemingly inexorable pressure against her lower body and managed to hook the toes of one foot around the ledge for a moment. For a moment her heart soared, seeing the future before her clear as day, a triumphant fight back ending with throwing her attacker into the feather filled pit prepared for her. Adrenaline coursed through her, her arms flexing as she started to swing her body, using her delicate grip as a pivot point, her hips and legs arching upwards, just one swing away now from getting back onto solid ground. She was going to do it, she was going to win, she was…
A hand caressed the bare skin of her belly, fingers flicking over the taunt skin at the exact moment she was swinging out, away from the ledge. A single finger entered her belly button and with unerring accuracy raked across the virgin skin hidden within. Fiona convulsed, and instinctively tried to reach down to batter the hand away. With only one hand locked on the door frame, her own swing ripped her from her perch, sending her falling back into the room, her body tingling in anticipation of what was to come. As she fell she finally saw her attacker clearly, outlined in light as Fiona dropped, seemingly in slow motion, every detail etching itself into her memory as her assailant lay, stretched out comfortably on her side, ready to watch the show. Long, curvy legs led up to perfect hips and a flat stomach that even in her current predicament sent a twinge of jealousy through Fiona’s mind. Full breasts and slim yet well defined arms, all covered in that black silk catsuit, so tight it was like a second skin, a matching black ninja mask wrapped around her face, hiding everything but her eyes, a flash of pale, almost porcelain skin and a luxurious wave of red hair flowing down her back and over her side, a startling contrast against the black night of the silk. Then Fiona hit the pool and her world disintegrated.
It was, for the first moments anyway, like falling into a pool of water, the substance around her reacting just like a liquid and she felt herself drop at least five feet under the surface on her back. She kicked upwards and broke the surface, taking a deep breath, then the feathers started their diabolical work. They were everywhere, around her, below her, the movement of the ‘sea’ brushing them against her body in a way that she’d never experienced before, never even imagined possible. Her dress, previously so elegant now seemed to float away from her body, the feathery tide washing in underneath it and touching what felt like every inch of her skin.
The sensations overwhelmed her and she literally screamed with laughter, striking out desperately for the far door, knowing with absolute certainty she wouldn’t make it. It took barely ten strokes before her laughter overcame her and she wrapped her arms around her body, trying to batter the feathers away as she would a person tickling her armpits, her ribs, her feet. But there was no one physical presence here, every movement of her body just seemed to make the feathers flow around her faster, increasing her ticklish torment exponentially. She could do nothing now but laugh and she started to sink into the suffocating pool, the feathers seeming to suck her downwards.
It had been ten years since the first full-immersion virtual reality suits had been built and the computer landscape had seemingly changed overnight. It had started, as such things often do, as a military project, but once the basic problems of creating realistic feedback and interaction had been solved the technology had moved into the public domain amazingly quickly, and surprisingly cheaply to boot. The basic suit these days went for about £500, plus another few hundred for a computer capable of running it and they’d almost completely replaced the old keyboard / mouse combo. Even basic data input was handled by an operator with a headset now, voice input in most companies, direct thought input in those that really needed high throughputs, the human mind effectively becoming part of the system itself, acting as an interpreter between the real world and the virtual one.
It was in the home VR had really taken off though. Someone wearing a VR suit could not only talk to people all over the world, but also see and touch them as well. Anyone that had seen the explosion in the adult entertainment industry on the Internet in the mid nineties could have predicted that such a feature would be a big selling point. As usual more socially acceptable uses had followed, and as the technology was refined it pretty much obliterated the more traditional software market in the space of a few years. Okay, some things couldn’t be simulated yet without visiting a dedicated centre (realistic movement being the obvious one) but on the whole the vast majority of consumers were enthralled by this latest toy and took to it in a way unprecedented in the entertainment industry. Besides, the mind seemed to do a very good job of fooling itself into believing what the body saw and experienced in the simulations and most users would have sworn they were moving anyway.
Of course there were always those that wanted a little more than the usual mass market experience, and VR was no exception. People would pay surprisingly large sums of money to have their own VR experience tailor made to their exact requirements, and that gave rise to a new breed of software developers. With VR the software could effectively create it’s own graphics and sound from a reference point, usually a photograph or basic recording. Add a set of pictures of the celebrity of the month that covered every angle of their body and the computer could do the rest, even taking a good guess at what their skin would look like close up and their figure under whatever they were wearing in the supplied photographs.
Such techniques meant traditional graphic artists were virtually obsolete for all but the highest-specification simulations, which is were people like Steve came in to the picture. Skilled enough to set up the scenario his real talent was in imagination, in story telling and designing the logic the program would use to immerse the user in the virtual world. Over the last couple of years Steve had gained a reputation as a real ‘go to’ man, someone who could take even the most complex request and figure out how to make it work. But it was his other skills that had landed this current job, and he was looking forward to seeing how it turned out.
The request had been simple enough, a basic outline of wanting to interact with a famous celebrity, in this case a movie star, in an environment that definitely wasn’t PG-13. Steve had spent some time with the client and had been impressed; impressed enough to put in such long nights to get the project finished a week earlier than he’d normally agree to. The fact that she had been gorgeous helped, but it had been her attitude that had intrigued him. At 31 she was running a small company and making a damn good go of it, and as with most people she wanted to use VR to take a break from her normal life. The instruction had been simple: “Make me scared, make me let go of myself, let me loose control”. A simple enough request, but one that had proven surprisingly difficult to write. Still, he thought he finally had it and, with a temporary character in place of the client had watched things unfold from his ‘fly-on-the-wall’ view. While he didn’t know if this had been what she was expecting, he was certain it met her requirements. With a shrug he packaged up the disc in a plain black slipcover, added a brief covering note with the instructions and his contact details and put the whole lot into an envelope. He’d drop it in the post tomorrow and the client should get it the next day. Exhausted he turned off the computer and headed to bed, almost collapsing onto it as sleep claimed him, visions of a silk-clad dominatrix dancing in his dreams…
Fiona arrived home a little after eight in the evening, her feet aching after spending nearly twelve hours meeting and greeting clients during their annual review meeting, her normally perfect blonde hair starting to frizz at the ends from the continued climate changes of the air-conditioned board room and the sweltering heat of the city day. A quick glance at her answer phone reassured her she hadn’t missed anything important and she slipped her jacket off her shoulders and onto a clothes hook mounted in the short hallway. She turned to check the basket behind the door for any post and stopped dead. The brown envelope lay there innocently enough but she knew what it would contain and her heart skipped a beat. She’d been a little dubious when Liz had introduced her to that strange man who claimed to be a VR developer, and though some of those initial misgivings had faded when she’d actually talked to him, she’d still doubted he’d actually deliver on time, or for that matter, at all.
And now, there in front of her, so close she could touch it, was the culmination of an almost fifteen year fantasy, as dreamt up by a pale, pony-tailed guy she’d known for maybe a month. Was she sure she wanted to go through with this, what if it wasn’t what she was expecting, what she wanted, and what she…needed? But there was the problem, now that this particular fantasy was actually in her hands how could she not try it, at least just once?
After a long moment Fiona darted forward and snatched the disk from the mailbox and almost reverently walked into the bedroom, placing the disk, still in it’s packaging, down next to the computer. She quickly stripped out of her suit, hesitating slightly as her fingers reached for the VR suit. No, she thought, do this properly, on the off chance the geek had actually delivered what was promised. She stepped into the adjacent bathroom and turned on the shower, bringing it to a point where the water was hot enough to steam and barely within a comfortable limit against her bare skin. She stood under the streaming flow, letting the water caress her, easing the aches and tensions in her muscles, leaving her almost as relaxed as if she’d had a full massage at her local gym. She quickly dried herself off then headed back into the bedroom, slipping the VR suit over her smooth skin, feeling the sensors adjust the fit slightly to make a good contact with every inch of her body. Finally she pulled the hood up over her head, the usual moment of panic taking her as she sealed the front of the suit over her mouth and nose. It lasted but a moment though as a deep breath reassured her the suit’s thin membrane was working properly, allowing her to breathe normally even with the fabric covering her face.
The suit came to life, feeding her normal surroundings to the lenses covering her eyes, allowing her to move as naturally as if she were wearing nothing at all as she stepped to the computer, checked the limiters were set to prevent her walking outside of the clear six foot by seven area in front of the terminal and loaded the disk. Her hand hovered over the keyboard, a few last thoughts chasing themselves through her mind, then a flash of determination as she stabbed the commit key. The room around her seemed to flex, then stretch away, the wall in front of her pulling out into a tunnel that seemed to reach to infinity. Then, like an elastic band snapping back into shape she was catapulted through the tunnel, the sides of the passage blurring as she entered the program.
Fiona looked around and found herself in a room of mirrors. It was like stepping inside of a diamond, the small area of floor she stood in the only flat area as the walls immediately started slopping upwards, presenting multiple images of her body as she stared in fascination at the sight. Her digital persona was dressed in a loose, flowing white dress, low cut and designed to flatter her figure. Not that she needed much help in that area, she was a natural beauty and was one of those people that seem to keep their figure no matter what they do. An energetic lifestyle and regular trips to the gym had helped as well and the results were spectacular. Her blond hair seemed to flow down her back and move almost on its own, as if a gentle wind was caressing it although there was no obvious place for such a breeze to come from. The same breeze moved the dress itself, the long, flowing strips of fabric only secured at the start and end of each run, and then only loosely, giving the nearest possible impression of being naked while maintaining her dignity.
One side of the diamond seemed to split and fold down, revealing a darkly lit corridor beyond, metal walls and ceiling, a wooden floor with only the occasional torch flickering in almost medieval looking holders on the walls to light her way. She stepped forwards and found to her surprise that the elaborate costume she wore didn’t restrict her movement in the least, being just short enough to prevent anything getting trapped underfoot as she walked and the fasteners being positioned in the most natural places possible. In her mind she revised her initial opinion of the programmer, he at least had an eye for clothing, maybe she could get him to help design her summer wardrobe next year.
After she’d walked maybe twenty feet down the corridor she heard a grinding noise from behind her and turned to see the edge of the diamond reseal itself, leaving her trapped in this reality, at least for as long as she wished to be. Curious now she walked down the corridor, her eyes adjusting to the flickering firelight as she did so, and she thought she could just make out, beyond the farthest flickering torch a wooden door mounted in the wall to her left. As she walked she found herself becoming more and more nervous, she hadn’t really specified what she wanted to happen, and this lack of anything obviously threatening was getting to her. Finally she reached the door and reached out tentatively towards it, ready to jump back at the first hint of anything coming through the portal towards her.
The door swung open silently, and the sight beyond froze her mind for a second as she struggled to comprehend what she saw. The room was maybe three hundred feet long, about double the length of an Olympic swimming pool, with one door mounted at the far end, seemingly opposite this one. In between there was what appeared to be a sea of feathers, twisting and rolling as if they were liquid, the surface of this strange sea undulating as if there were real waves pulsing through it. The walls were slick, and the only way to cross that room was obvious, if she wanted to get across the only way was to swim through. Considering what she was wearing such a crossing would be torturous in the extreme and she backed away from the doorway, turning to try and find another way around.
As she looked back down the corridor she noticed something odd, the torches were going out, slowly, steadily and moving towards her in a growing cloud of darkness they were being methodically snuffed out. From the heart of that darkness Fiona would have heard she heard a soft rustle, a sound that seemed totally out of place in this would of steel and darkness. As she watched she noticed that, within the blackness moving towards her, there was a darker shape, a shadow that seemed to move on it’s own. Just as the realisation of what she was seeing hit her, the last torch went out and a figure tackled her gently but firmly to the ground.
For a moment she panicked, and that was all her assailant needed. She felt herself being rolled over towards the doorway and reached out, desperation fuelling her moves as her fingers found the doorframe and locked on, her legs pressed against the opposite edge. The light from the room spilled out into the corridor, illuminating long, shapely legs, clad in a catsuit that seemed darker than anything she’d ever seen. Her mind registered the fact that the suit was made out of silk, rather than the more traditional leather or rubber, but she had little time to ponder the significance of that titbit of information as she felt her assailant reach down and wrap strong arms around her legs and lift her entire lower body, from hips to feet, off the ground and throw it over the threshold.
Fiona could feel the occasional touch on her bare feet, a gentle caress by the feathery ocean below her and fought to hold back her laughter, knowing she couldn’t afford to loose her grip on the doorframe as she tried desperately to lift her legs up, away from their seemingly inevitable fate. But her attacker was too quick, already she was lying down next to the struggling blonde, legs extended, feet pushing at her hips to prevent her getting any leverage as silk-clad fingers descended on her exposed underarms.
In the back of her mind Fiona had expected the first touch to be a light one, but again she was surprised as a hard, almost brutal sensation exploded on her exposed side, fingers scrapping and searching over her armpit and ribs, causing her to convulse in surprise as her body betrayed her. Mouth open as laughter was ripped from her lungs and throat, she felt her grip slip slightly and a moment of sheer panic fuelled her, and she actually made a little ground against the seemingly inexorable pressure against her lower body and managed to hook the toes of one foot around the ledge for a moment. For a moment her heart soared, seeing the future before her clear as day, a triumphant fight back ending with throwing her attacker into the feather filled pit prepared for her. Adrenaline coursed through her, her arms flexing as she started to swing her body, using her delicate grip as a pivot point, her hips and legs arching upwards, just one swing away now from getting back onto solid ground. She was going to do it, she was going to win, she was…
A hand caressed the bare skin of her belly, fingers flicking over the taunt skin at the exact moment she was swinging out, away from the ledge. A single finger entered her belly button and with unerring accuracy raked across the virgin skin hidden within. Fiona convulsed, and instinctively tried to reach down to batter the hand away. With only one hand locked on the door frame, her own swing ripped her from her perch, sending her falling back into the room, her body tingling in anticipation of what was to come. As she fell she finally saw her attacker clearly, outlined in light as Fiona dropped, seemingly in slow motion, every detail etching itself into her memory as her assailant lay, stretched out comfortably on her side, ready to watch the show. Long, curvy legs led up to perfect hips and a flat stomach that even in her current predicament sent a twinge of jealousy through Fiona’s mind. Full breasts and slim yet well defined arms, all covered in that black silk catsuit, so tight it was like a second skin, a matching black ninja mask wrapped around her face, hiding everything but her eyes, a flash of pale, almost porcelain skin and a luxurious wave of red hair flowing down her back and over her side, a startling contrast against the black night of the silk. Then Fiona hit the pool and her world disintegrated.
It was, for the first moments anyway, like falling into a pool of water, the substance around her reacting just like a liquid and she felt herself drop at least five feet under the surface on her back. She kicked upwards and broke the surface, taking a deep breath, then the feathers started their diabolical work. They were everywhere, around her, below her, the movement of the ‘sea’ brushing them against her body in a way that she’d never experienced before, never even imagined possible. Her dress, previously so elegant now seemed to float away from her body, the feathery tide washing in underneath it and touching what felt like every inch of her skin.
The sensations overwhelmed her and she literally screamed with laughter, striking out desperately for the far door, knowing with absolute certainty she wouldn’t make it. It took barely ten strokes before her laughter overcame her and she wrapped her arms around her body, trying to batter the feathers away as she would a person tickling her armpits, her ribs, her feet. But there was no one physical presence here, every movement of her body just seemed to make the feathers flow around her faster, increasing her ticklish torment exponentially. She could do nothing now but laugh and she started to sink into the suffocating pool, the feathers seeming to suck her downwards.
. Any and all feedback , comments and criticism much appreciated.
lol. Well, i think by Revolutions we all knew that while the Wachowski's may be good directors, they are terrible writers. I fell asleep during Trinity's death scene. 
