Work Text:
Your feet pound against the dirty red carpet blanketing the floor of the small apartment used by the anti-nation group you belong to. Panicked screams and gunfire come from the front room as you fling yourself into a closet and pull the door shut, pressing your hand against your mouth in fear of someone -something- hearing your rapid, fearful breathing. The screams, the gunshots die down. What sort of weapon did the tyrannical Protektors bring against the rebels that it was all over this quickly, so silently.
Something moves in front of the closet door. “Well, hello dear…” the door handle begins to turn. You desperately grasp at it, trying with all your might to hold the door closed, but for your effort, you wind up sprawled on the floor, something with sharply bladed feet towering over you. “There you are, you tried to run off and hide away didn't you.” The rhythmic up and down of her soft voice cuts into the fog of fear drowning out your thoughts. She squats down and rolls you over bringing your eyes to hers. The spiral pattern of her blue irises begin to spin and close over the red dot of her pupil. Fear is replaced by something else in the role of flooding out your thoughts. “I know just what to do with a cute dear like you.” You are vaguely aware of her unstrapping her chest plate and grinning widely as a humming tune begins to play from somewhere unknowable.
She pulls you to your feet as you stare deep into the swirling depths of her eyes. She kneels down, removing your shoes as she guides your legs into a soft, rubbery opening on her chest, holding your chin to keep your eyes locked on hers. Suddenly she stands, pulling you up and further into her chest cavity, forcing your feet into points, like a dancer. Only your arms and upper body are outside now. A tap on your chin brings you a bit out of your slack stupor, still consumed utterly in her eyes and humming. “Dear, could you please pull your arms inside and move them into the holes you find?” your arms take a little bit to respond, but first your right, then your left find the places. Rubbery and snug like you were born to be in here, in her. Once in place, movement is impossible, but each attempt still produces a little squeak. “Okay, now just this left” suddenly your head is inside the rubber, and her eyes are gone, leaving only her rhythmic hum.
Panic begins to set in in the absence of the eyes, and you struggle helplessly against your rubber prison producing only squeaking. You feel your knees and arms bend as she reaches down and replaces her chest armor. You feel her walking, drowsiness returning as her movements and the squeaks produced match the rise-fall-rise of the hum. Slowly, the rhythm seems to work its way into every motion your body makes. Your heartbeat, your breathing. You slowly slip off into what feels like the best sleep of your life.