The air felt wet and thick. Dashie was a long way from the reflections of the light from the crevice in the roof of the cave now. An injured wing left her walking - stumbling, even, with these rocks. Hopefully there was another way out of this cave, but it wasn't a guarantee. In her current state though, she was left with no choice but to explore - even if she could recover enough to return the way she came, it'd take long enough that she'd need some supplies. Quite frustrating.

There were lots of flowers down here, which was peculiar for how dark it was. She didn't think about it until she stopped to rest and check on her wing. She found somewhere to sit, and found it to be a flowerbed of some sort. Most odd. At least it was reasonably comfortable. With a ginger wince, she kneeled, then sat on her legs, and gently teased her wing out from behind her.

What light there was dimmed. She hissed trying to crane her wingtip back into the light, but a pair of hands stayed her waist. Wait, hands? Before she had time to flinch and scurry away, a calming whisper filled her ear.

"Shh. It's okay. I won't hurt you," said a voice. There was definitely someone hugging her from behind - someone with a pretty substantial bust pressing around the back of her head, and wearing latex gloves, and based on part of the aroma that had just arrived, quite a bit more than just gloves. The other part was... butterscotch. And cinnamon? Either way it was sweet and inviting. "It looks like a sprain. You're fine, child."

"Child? I'm n-"

"Shhhhh..." she purred into her ear. Dashie's words melted away in an instant. Her pain dulled, and her scalp lit up with tingles. "Let me take you home to rest. It's safe there."

"Safe... Yeah... Okay..." Dashie burbled. The stranger lifted her effortlessly, and she slipped into a semi-slumber. She hardly noticed - she only felt the world begin to swim as her sense of balance departed, and she was cradled by softness. Some of it was live fur, some of it was latex... it was almost like being in bed. She wasn't sleepy before, but now consciousness seemed so hard to cling to...

The next memory she could register was being laid on an armchair far too big for her. She sank into it comfortably, and dared to open her eyes. There was an open fire in the fireplace on the opposite wall of this room, which left most of it in half-light, but what she could see was furnished with thick, soft fluff everywhere. And what wasn't was...

Her. Someone tall, white-furred and almost silhouetted by the fireplace as she towered over her, wearing a thick and woolly sweater. She was quite full of figure too - the sweater looked like it was having serious trouble stretching over her breasts, and her belly was wide enough not to be in their shadow. It bunched up at her hips, leaving her thick, white haunches on display. Also snapped around them were a pair of tall latex socks - how they stayed so far up her thighs was nothing short of a wonder.

"How are you feeling, child?" she said. Her voice calmed with its very timbre. Dashie mumbled. She rubbed her temple and looked around. Her jacket was... oh, it's on the coffee table. How did it get over there? No matter. "You must be quite weak after your fall. How about something to eat?"

"I... mmh?" was all Dashie managed to say.

Before she could stop her, the figure approached, plate seemingly already in hand. Dashie tried to sit up, but she was pushed back, gently, but firmly. The stranger's hand was also gloved. Pressed back into the chair, she could do nothing as the stranger climbed on top of her, first raising one leg and bending it at the knee to one side of her, then putting her weight on it to lift the other. The armchair groaned as it took her weight. Dashie, however, was having an interesting time having someone three feet taller than her sitting in her lap.

The stranger leaned forward. This had the side effect of pressing the thickest parts of her torso into Dashie, pinning her to the chair. The difference in height lifted her chin with her breasts, then pressed every part of her below her neck into the cushioning with flesh. She could smell the latex underneath the sweater.

This woke Dashie up considerably. She blinked, and looked blearily up at the figure sitting on her. A pudgy white face, smiling softly and gazing at her with half-lidded eyes, seemed to spill from the collar of her latex outfit. A pair of big fluffy ears hung behind her head, and there were even a couple of little nubby horns. She couldn't escape that sweet smell that seemed to come from her breath.

"Here. Eat this," she said, clearly having a little trouble navigating the plate in the slightly cramped space. She lifted something from the plate and pushed it to Dashie's mouth. She had little choice but to open her mouth and accept it - even if the aroma made her disinclined to protest. Her reward for compliance was a mouthful of thick and sticky pie, coating her tongue with the creamy taste of butterscotch... with a couple of sparkles of cinnamon. She almost forgot to chew as it coated her tongue, it so filled her senses. The stranger giggled at her difficulties, but she didn't stop stuffing the slice into her mouth.

She blushed as it went down, her face filling with warmth, her belly filling with warmth... and something else filling with warmth too. She had no idea why, but the more she swallowed, the tighter her pants became. Her cock strained against them as it tried to find its way out. The stranger seemed surprised to notice this too. Dashie huffed and averted her eyes, squirming to try and keep it under control - not that she could.

"Ooh, that is a surprise!" The stranger chuckled. "I wouldn't have known that was there by looking at you," she purred, her face closer now. Being this close to her made her light-headed - in a good way. A kind of enchanted fizz to the mind.

"O-oh," Dashie muffled. There was still pie in her mouth. "I'm tra-"

"Shhh..." The stranger whispered. Again, her vocal cords, tongue and jaw gave up immediately, and her spine lit up with an electric spasm of goosebumps. "It matters not, child. You are beautiful anyway. Rest."

And she did. She hadn't a thought of protest.

When she woke again, her clothes were nowhere to be found. Her eyelids felt heavy and her ears felt like they were full of cotton. Her arms felt kind of tense, and there was a dense heat in her groin, and every time she stirred and shifted her hips something felt really good...

"Ah! You are awake. Do not be worried. I have dressed you for bed," the stranger's voice bounced around in her head like a she was hearing an echo. Even though she couldn't see her, her presence soothed her, and made the questions she had about where she was seem a lot less pressing. She tried to open her mouth and hack up whatever it was that tasted like rubber, but she couldn't seem to.

Her hands pressed her hips, then her stomach, then her breasts, then back down again, firmly massaging her. Her touch calmed, urging her to relax. She couldn't move. Her foggy mind could just about register the touch and spring of latex pressed all around her body. A vacbed perhaps? She couldn't have a vacbed... but then she did have all those other things... It definitely felt like one. She pulled on her legs and something pulled against her to keep them in place, and her breathing hissed, as if through a tube. The stranger's hands urged her to drop deeper into her trance and accept the care, as they kneaded her breasts and soothed her stomach. Had they gotten bigger while she was out? That couldn't be. She felt a little thicker too... illusions, probably. A good night's sleep and she'd figure out what was going on.

Something pressed against her face. It was really quite heavy, but it was soft too, spread out and wrapped around her head. Muffled under it, she heard the stranger sigh happily, and the sound reverberate through the mass on her head. Was she sitting on her? Yikes, lady. Still, there was something soothing about feeling her around her, even if it was an unorthodox way of doing it.

Then her cock felt absolutely divine and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Wet, soft, warm and sucking on it - it had the nubby feeling of textured silicone, and the rhyhthmic squeeze of mechanical power. The stranger ground her hips, enjoying  good sit on Dash's face while her cock was milked. After the pie, she'd been so aroused. She couldn't stop it, and had no release for it either. This, to her dismay, continued. Delirious as she was, it didn't take long for the edge of climax to come, and she could feel the beginnings of the rush of relief, but it never got past it - just a hair away from release, even as the machine pumped at full steam. It had a funny way of eroding her will to keep one foot in the conscious, as soon the only thing she could think about was getting the orgasm that continued to elude her. The stranger evidently had more success, with her deep, breathy groans of satisfaction, and the soft, muscular squeezes through the latex around her snout. She was totally insulated from the moisture and the smell, but she could feel it, and it washed a little embarrassment into the swirl of disorientation and desperation she was feeling.

"Sweet dreams, child," she whispered after getting up. Dash lost track of her after that.