Unboxed

Annmarie Throckmorton, M.A.

Oct 22, 2022

My feet tickled as I edged my toes here and there, seeking to find the limits of the tight, long box of water in which I was poised. Whatever was I doing here? I poked out harder with my feet for purchase against the hard, ribbed sides of the water box, and I stubbed my toes on it.

Stabs of pain from my stubbed toes ran up my legs, but I relaxed as I realized that warm, gentle water swirled here and there, flowing soothingly and rhythmically over my legs which I now instinctively had wedged against the slightly yielding sides of the water box.

With a shock I realized that nothing but me swirled in the water box, there were no markings, no clues, no guides. Where was I? Suddenly I felt excitement in the waters, it quickened within me. I sensed it as a pungent smell, no, a familiar fragrance, an insistent tonic exciting my skin. I found my hands and my arms and I ran them over my now undulating body, finding the rest of myself. As the temperature rose my back hunched, my torso lurched, and my knees and elbows jutted out to push against the now wavelike moving walls of the water box. I was propelled onward, outward and I went with the flow of it eagerly. I was intoxicated with what was happening. I demanded more with vigorous contractions of my newly realized body. I did not care that it hurt, even though it hurt a lot. I twisted, rolled, squeezed, and pinched myself tightly against the now convulsing water box.

Great tides of water sloshed up over my shoulders and down my back, stimulating lovely sensations, primal pleasures. It hurt but it hurt good. And my head, what of my head? My head hung down, and it was being squeezed, squeezed hard. Oh pain! Lifting my wet face with great force I felt the crown of the water box muscularly ripple me out in one great gush, out through the birth canal, into mother's waiting arms and father's fond gaze.

Unboxed

animation and image by Annmarie Throckmorton 2022