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Naps Together
With one hand Amy held the damp rag to her own face while the other hand snaked down between her legs to lightly rub against her jeans. She moaned deeply, drawing the fumes into her lungs and feeling the room sway around her, her sedation only intensifying the warmth in her crotch. Her arms and legs felt heavy, her mind sluggish, and with each breath the medicine smell grew more pleasant. She took the rag away for a moment to draw in some oxygen, but instead she only received a lungful of gas as Sam pressed the clear mask over her lips and mouth. It smelled like strawberries. She inhaled willingly, smiling at him as she felt the gas spread throughout her body. The gas wasn’t like the chloroform. It made her feel relaxed, happy, pliant. The world became soft and warm, and a gentle fog drifted over her mind.

Amy was so glad whenever Sam decided to visit. As a single mom at thirty nine she didn’t receive much attention, even with her fit body and long auburn hair. But once every few months Sam would swing into town, with his goody bag of gases, chloroform, and other toys, and Amy would send her eighteen year old daughter Sara to a friend’s house for a weekend sleepover. Then Sam would relieve her of pesky things like willpower and consciousness, letting her spend days drifting on a drugged cloud. Not that it was all one-sided – in her altered state Amy would rarely turn down Sam’s advances. And she knew from experience that whenever she tried to turn him down, a few moments of sweet-smelling gas forced to her lips would quickly show her the error of her ways. But by Monday morning, her body a little sore and her mind a little groggy, Amy would be sad to see Sam go.

This visit was no different – Amy had just felt so conscious lately – and she took deep whiffs of the numbing gas as Sam’s hands slipped up the front of her blouse. The room seemed almost to sparkle above her as her thoughts drifted one by one out of her head. But something was wrong; Sam’s fingers had stopped inching toward her nipples. Amy looked into Sam’s eyes and saw that he was staring in surprise over her shoulder. Amy let the gas mask slip from her lips as she turned to look, and she too opened her eyes in surprise. In the doorway stood Sara.

“I came back to get some books,” stammered Sara, “and…..what, what’s going on?”

Sara took a step back from the room. Sam rose slowly from the couch. He appeared to weigh his options for a moment. Then in one swift motion he grabbed the chloroform rag from Amy’s hand and leapt across the room. Sara turned to run, but Sam was already upon her, one arm wrapping around her waist and the other clamped to her mouth. Sara tried to scream, but the rag cut her off. She began to pull at Sam’s arms, shouting into the cloth and kicking her legs.

“Whaaaa, what arrree you doooing?” slurred Amy.

“I’m giving her a little nap,” said Sam, “When she wakes up she won’t remember a thing, unless you want her to know what we were up to.”

Amy rose to her feet. She crossed the room and stood in front of Sara as she continued to struggle against Sam. Sam held her tight, lifting her legs off the ground, but Sara’s hands kept clawing at Sam’s. Sara’s eyes connected with Amy’s, and Sara gave her mother a pleading look as she moaned into the cloth. Amy reached forward, took Sara’s hands in her own, and pulled them away from Sara’s body. Sara’s eyes widened in shock and she screamed into the cloth.

“Shhhh, baby,” said Amy, her head clearer now, “be a good little girl and breathe it in. Just breathe it in and forget all about what you saw.”

Sara kept struggling, but her mother’s betrayal seemed to have sapped her resolve. Her arms were pulling less against Amy’s, her legs making weaker kicks. Breath by breath, plea by plea, the fumes soaked into Sara’s lungs. Her eyes were blinking rapidly, rolling around the room. Her moans were lower. She felt so sleepy. Her thoughts felt jumbled, her body unresponsive. She had been scared of something a moment ago, but she couldn’t remember what. And who was this nice man holding her up? Sara let out a final low moan and leaned back into Sam’s arms. He drew the rag from her face and her mouth hung slack. Then he loosened his grip and Sara sank to the ground. Her eyes were still open, but glazed over. She swayed back and forth slightly.

“Finish it,” said Amy.

A grin crossed Sam’s mouth.

“Finish putting her to sleep,” said Amy again.

“She seemed like a cool kid,” said Sam, looking at her body, surely the spitting image of her mother two decades before, “maybe she’d like to play with us.”

Amy looked at Sam in disbelief.

“She could breathe a little gas, you could breathe a little gas, and when you guys are feeling a-ok we could all go up to the bedroom.”

“What are you saying?” asked Amy, beginning to feel afraid, “I won’t involve my daughter in this.”

“Sorry,” said Sam, “the issue has been decided.”

With surprisingly force he pushed her backward and Amy fell back onto the couch. Sam fell upon her, reaching with one hand to grab the gas mask. Amy fought to push Sam off, but he was too heavy. He brought the mask up and forced it over her mouth. Amy shoved a hand between the mask and her mouth, but she could still feel the hiss of the gas blowing through her fingers and against her lips.

“You know you want to,” said Sam.

“Please, let me go,” begged Amy.

“All you have to do is breathe. Breathe. It’ll be so much fun.”

Amy struggled underneath him. She could smell the strawberries. The room seemed to soften around her. Her body began to tingle.

“Pleeeease,” she moaned.

“It’s too late,” said Sam, “you know you’ll give in.”

And she knew he was right. No matter how hard she fought, the gas would win. She could feel it seeping into her, relaxing her body and mind. She couldn’t seem to hold onto her panic. Sam this close, sweating, breathing hard - it felt so right. Amy’s eyes started to glass over. Her hand slipped to her side and Sam pressed the mask forward, completing the seal. Why had she been so worried? What harm could a little fun be? Why would she want to keep Sara from feeling as good as she herself felt now? Because everything was so nice now. Everything was so dreamy.

“That’s my girl,” said Sam, easing Amy up to a sitting position.

“Are you ready to play?” he asked and she nodded.

He took the mask from her lips and she stared blissfully into space. He walked over to Sara, still crumpled groggily in the doorway. Her cobwebs were beginning to clear and she looked up at Sam in confusion. He brought the mask to her lips and cooed lightly in her ear. In a few moments she was floating, stoned and relaxed. Sam helped her up and led her to the couch to sit beside Amy. For several minutes there was only the sound of gas as he passed the mask back and forth. Amy and Sara inhaled happily, dopey smiles on their lips and eyes focusing on nothing. Then Sam unzipped his pants and one went down on him while the other inhaled the gas. Then the cloth to both their lips until they drifted off to sleep. They never fought.
Great story. Thanks for posting these!

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