It’s My Life Metilanato
Part 1
A girl needs to pick up a bus, but it is not so simple for her due to the way she is sealed.
The door closes at my back.
It is around ten in the morning, I have all the time to do my errands and be back to prepare dinner, then enjoy the evening with my sweet love. Probably hamburger with pan cooked vegetables and a good red wine glass.
Yes, I like the idea. I add the hamburgers to my mental list of the things to buy. I have already one present on my smartphone, but actually for such a small thing I can remember by myself, then add lately when I’m on the bus.
The trip to the nearest station is about 200 meters, so I will need a good ten minutes to cover it. No problem. Buses are normally in time and the next one is due in something less than twenty minutes, so I will have the time to recover from the effort of the walk.
A feet after the other, slowly, unsteady.
One feet after the other, in line as a fashion model, shaky on my toes, all my weight pushing on the custom made cushioning gel that surrounds my toes and protect them for the effort to walk in heelless ballet boots. I started to use that kind of shoes at my last birthday, one month ago, more or less. My love gifted me them and a new dress that I’m wearing right now.
The sun is shining in this wonderful late spring day. I can see there is wind, a gentle one, the leaves of the trees on the gardens and on the road side are moving as dancing with it.
I can not feel it on my skin, I can only see the darkened world that I know since several years. On my head, resting comfy on my dark violet wig of long, curly hairs, sunglasses are waiting, ready to be used when I will feel the need. Not that I need them, my eyes are always covered in polarized lenses that are already restraining my vision field to probably half than normal, limiting if not erasing my peripheral vision and reducing my sight to a nearly dark, not black and white, but surely dull, color based world.
You know that sort of sepia effect you can obtain with a simple touch on the smartphone? Well, this is my vision for now, but when I will put my sunglasses on, also if apparently nothing will change outside, I will be totally blind, the two complementary lenses of my mask and the ones of the sunglasses removing all my sight.
Yes, you are thinking I can move my eyes to see at least the light on the side of the glasses, stylish and trendy, but you know, I told you my lenses are removing my peripheral vision and, furthermore, my mask has only small holes to let me see, so if not straight in front of me, I can not see anything.
A feet, then another, slowly, mincing step due to the boots that are calf long, made of a light alloy mesh embedded in hardened rubber and covered with a layer of sturdy hardened leather. My love searched for long time who could create them, using the same procedure, at lest for the leather, used in the past, boiling the leather in a special mix of oils that let it be shine as plastic and sturdy and rigid as metal, so much that there are no laces on the front to close them, but small locks as the ones of the skiing boots, just smaller, stronger and surely more attractive. Quick locking, hard to open without the magnetic key that is in my soulmate hands. The boots have hidden rings on the inner side of the ankles to add chains, to hobble me, but today, and being in public, I went easy, so I have not any visible restrain.
I try to think the exact length of my stride, and probably is slightly less than 30 centimetre. Yes, more or less it is that the length I move on every step. The dress my love bought me is wonderful, similar to the ones used in the ‘50: a red long pleated cotton skirt ankle long, a tight long sleeved high necked white blouse in stretchy material and a bolero in the same color of the skirt. I’m apparently able to run on such dress, but apart the ballets, you know that it’s not the best or easy thing try to run, if you have thighs bands locked just above your knees, linked together by two inches chain. Ladylike steps, as I love them.
But I’m nearly arrived tot he bus station. There are several people waiting for the bus. After all this is the only line in this zone of the city that moves to the mall, so obviously there is always people.
Some seems to recognize me, also if I changed the wig, and looked me just some second before restarting to look at the newspapers or the screen of the phone. Some people stare. Well, probably I would do the same. I’m stunning, my dress is wonderful, probably not exactly what anyone would wear now, but I love it and the contrast between the mat red of the gown and my shiny boots is surely fantastic. Probably the sun is reflecting on my hands and face, letting it shine as artificial as it is. The fixed doll like blue eyes: the most strange feature of my otherwise lifelike mask that is encompassing, sealing my whole head in a thin, specifically done rigid covering that is going down to my whole body, being the mask one of the parts of the whole skin suit I’m sealed in.
I stop at the bus station, panting for the effort. My slightly smiling face standing still, as it can only be, the air flaring quick in and out the nostril tubes that were continuing for probably three, four inches in my nose, removing any smelling sense I could have and ensuring my breathing is unrestricted, being these nostrils the only way to catch air, my mouth being totally sealed during the day. Sometime also for days if my lover wants so. My chest also is moving quick and trying to let me catch the breathe, my ample chest obliged to expand and contract not having room in my waist due to the thick, excruciating tight, nearly painful corset I’m used to wear since I decided to be as I am.
I lost the exact number of waist reduction in inches, but probably there is not really a lot more to tighten before I would need, if I would decide, a surgical action to remove the floating ribs. Yes that way I could move to a steam pipe corset type if I want, but I’m not sure of the final result. I mean, right now my waist is probably between 14" and 15", and theoretically I can go down still an inch more or less. I think I will stop there and settle it, not going for surgery. Uselessly expensive and furthermore, everything I did to my body is in some way natural, I mean, I did not removed anything that was really essential. Ribs , if they are there, probably there is a reason, no?
A man, in his fifty, smiles to me and offer me to seat. I look him and nod, starting to move there and seating in a quite rigid and unnatural position, due to my corset that is extending from my crotch to my neck base, covering the whole back and also my shoulders as a posture device, leaving only my breasts free, snapped inside cutouts slightly smaller than my breasts base, so my boobs are full and sensible, a sensation I love. Not that anyone could see my excitement, my erect nipples well hidden under my outer skin, my artificial skin that for me is my real one, after so many years I use it.
Obviously not always the same model, I changed it during the years, upgrading it to be sturdier, shinier, more restricting and, actually, I have three of them, the same model, so I can change them and let the others be washed and cleaned waiting to seal me for nearly a week every time.
Probably he was slightly aware I’m not exactly a normal girl in her mid twenties, not only for my dress, not only for my shiny face and hands, not only for my staring unblinking eyes fixed to him, but also because, when seated rigid as a post, my legs were not bending a lot at knees. I try my best, but my knees can not move more than 45°, no way to reach 90° as every other people there. More or less is the same for my elbows, I can reach with some effort my nose to move up and down the sunglasses, but nothing more.
No, I have no any disease, it’s the skin I wear that is obliging me to do it. Well, because I desired it obviously and my love was so kind to find how to realize my needs.
My skin. A thin yet sturdy suit that is totally sealing me in a inner layer of latex, a intermediate layer of light alloy wires, lattices and plates that are reducing my movements to let me be just functional as I need, but nothing more, and an outer layer of silicon similar to the one used in special effect and created to mimic my skin, but with a glossy finish due to the special polymer that is at the same time acting as a gloss and as a scratch resistant surface, enough to avoid a normal knife to leave any mark on it. This skin is part of the mask and it’s over my corset and my hygienic equipments.
The bus is arrived and I slowly lift and move in, showing the driver my transport subscription. Again someone let me seat and I do, nodding and smiling a little more to show my appreciation. I can so use my phone to add the hamburger to the list and check the last news. My fingers are done appositely to use the smartphones screens, because normal latex would not act on the touch screens. I smile internally, my face obliged to maintain a smiling, sort of Barbie face, but I can force to smile more or move my mouth to talk a little bit, also if in a awkward way, considering that as my crotch, my mouth is totally sealed in the same suit material, a perfect mold that covers totally my lips, gums, teeth and tongue, moving down to throat a little bit, enough to not let me gag but also to avoid anyone to see it’s a closed mold if they would check.
I feel a small buzz, a second, the indication the small automatic valve installed on my pussy part of the hygienic equipment is opened. I can feel the warm stream of fluid exiting, guided by the catheter and the micro peristaltic pump from my crotch to the inner storage bag that was created between the corset and the skin, so also if my waist is cruelly tightened, the external waist is slightly bigger, giving plenty of space for the pee holding bag and the internal batteries that are powering the pump, the automatic valve and the other… toys embedded on my pussy and ass, molded to fill my crotch perfectly on the front, leaving a sealed, sexless appearance when I’m undressed, showing only a small quick connection port on the back for the daily enema and the discharge of the waist pee holding bag, that is connected also to special pipes called capillaries that are collecting the sweat from my body and move safely on the bag, functioning by physic and by my movements. A clever way to avoid the sweat inside my skin. My love wants only the best for me, and this is my way, partially, to thank the efforts. I need, I want to be always the perfect girl, well dressed, well acting, always sealed, hoping in more, more restricting way to control myself but being able to do things.
I completed my task to write the hamburgers on the list, so I switch on the white noise emitter of my smartphone, connecting it to my Bluetooth earbuds embedded on the suit and check that Google Maps will alarm me when we would be arrived. While my world is engulfed in a nothing, all other sounds are disappearing. I move down the sunglasses with a nearly strong effort due to the metal forcing my limbs to maintain a doll like position on every joint, and a Stygian blackness surrounds me now. I can relax for a while.
I love what I am, I love what I can be. This is how I want to live. This is my life.
Part 2
When a doll meets her family.
It is mid-morning when the doorbell rings.
I’m not expecting anyone. I stop doing my chores on the bedroom. The vacuum cleaner still working with a loud noise, but thanks to my embedded earphones that are acting also as noise cancelling devices, I was and I am surrounded by total silence. So how I could have then heard the doorbell? Easy, the house where me and my love are living is fully equipped with home automation things, so I have wireless connected to phone, doorbell and similar so I can hear everything everywhere in the house, if my love let me. In this case I decided for silenced house chores, while other times it’s not me to decide, but my soulmate, actually at work.
I stop the vacuum cleaner and leave it in the room while struggling to move down the stairs. The doorbell fills again my ears. If I could talk, I would have yelled to wait a second: it’s not easy to move downstairs in ballet boots and hobble dress in thick latex.
Probably is the postman, so I’m not concerned about my look; he is used to see me and probably I would give him a nice hard-on for a while. I open the door with a smile, the fixed one my latex mask is forcing me to have, the long and thick mold filling my whole mouth and down the throat stealing me nearly all sound and surely any taste and smell due to the pipes running inside my nostrils. The sun is shining, reflected perfectly on my deep blue long sleeved, high necked, hobble dress, long enough to show just the tip of my ballet boots padlocked to my ankles.
I gasp seeing who is in front of me and they gasp too.
“Mmmghh…” I just mumble, unable to listen what they are saying.
I’m pale and shaking inside my latex suit, my skin, thick and rigid. A layered item built to reduce my movements to the ones of a doll, yet letting me totally self-sufficient, letting me appear as a shiny, artificial doll, Barbie like. The long curly pink hairs of my today wig are probably outstanding more than the dress and my appearance, including the unblinking open eyes of the mask, lenses covering my real eyes and robbing me any peripheral vision and colors, the world reduced to a sepia like effect since I started to wear the suit, years ago. I feel I’m starting to hyperventilate, the tight corset hidden by the latex and metal suit not helping me, but I decide to play the cool one, and indicate them to enter.
Mom and dad look me and still are talking. I struggles to move my hands to my ears, to show them I cannot listen, but the embedded metal lattice and stays are not helping me to move. Unfortunately, I cannot remove anything at all: everything is magnetically locked on me by my love, as I desire. I move to grab my smartphone and write on it, showing them.
“STOP. I CAN NOT EAR YOU NOW. GIMME 1 MINUTE”
I see them looking me again, then dad helps mom to sit the sofa on living room. She, apparently, is pale, but I cannot see her complexion, only her shaking hands and the slow movements.
I quick retrieve the app that is controlling partially my suit and restore my hearing, unlocking also the gagging section of my mask. I cannot remove the whole face or head without the magnetic key in my love hand, and also if I have a spare one for safety, it’s not probably the time to use it. At least I hope so.
I move on kitchen with mincing and snapping steps. The latex hobble dress is thick nearly 1 mm, forcing me to move slowly. I extract the gag, a perfect mold of my mouth, including teeth and tongue, hollow to let me sip water and liquid food and long enough to slip in my throat for a couple of inches. I gurgle a second and clean it under the water of the sink, before going back to them.
“M… mom? Dad?” I say, my voice trembling more than I wanted. “This is a… surprise…”
“Pumpkin?” she asks, still seated. Dad is on his feet, near her, looking me hard.
I nod, or try to do, but the embedded neck corset in my neck section of my skin let me just move some fraction of inch.
“Yes mom. I think I have to explain you something.”
“This is sure.” dad says dry. “What is this… thing?”
I seat on my bar seat styled chair, the only one I can use, considering the lack of total freedom of bending at my knees. They can go from straight to no more than 45°, similar to the movements I imposed to myself at my elbows too.
“This thing is how I… I like to be.” I say, feeling as I just did outing.
“What do you mean? Is this… rubber?”
“Yes mom, it is rubber, or better, latex and… well, it’s complicated, but it’s really an engineering thing. I use it since… long ago.”
“But we spoke to you nearly two weeks ago on Skype…”
“Yes. I… remove it when we speak. I was concerned you would not understand.”
Dad looks me again. I’m grateful my skin is hiding my red hot face in this moment. I’m feeling as a little girl caught with hand in jam.
“Understand? It is something wrong? I mean, you do it for… blackmail? For some strange drug your companion is giving you?” he says suspicious.
I try to shake my head. “No, dad. I asked him to do it. He created and did it for me. I feel free this way, I feel myself.” I say, my voice starting to feel shaking as my fingers, not seen under the nearly rigid gloves of my suit.
“How long…” she starts, then she seems to think. “I mean, this thing…” she indicates vaguely myself.
“Years. I tried the first skin nearly six months after I moved here.”
She moans. Dad looks her then me. “Why not before? What happened to let you change your mind this way? For God sake, my girl is now a… doll!”
I move again to step nearer them.
“I had desires this way since I cannot remember, but how I could tell you? How I could ask my parents to make me a doll, to let me be restrained to be free. It was clearly a fetish and sexual thing, I can not deny it, and I had such ideas also when I was with you, underage. I just put them in my fantasies and never spoke to anyone, if not my love. I spoke to him, we decided together, he experimented and did several suits. The one I have on is the last model, and it’s so comfy for me I barely exit it. I wanted to tell you, but…”
“But?” he says still hard, but caressing mom hand, her eyes fixed on my unblinking eyes.
“I was fearing you would not…” I’m unable to end the sentence, my voice broken, my eyes filled with tears that would never come out from my plastic eyes.
“We are too old to understand? Or you deep inside you know this is wrong and you want not to admit it?”
“THIS IS NOT WRONG!” I shout, then pant due to the tight corset and the lack of air after the shout. “You wanted a girl… not a…”
“A pervert?” dad says, his face hard as a rock.
I nod, I do not know if they see it, but I have no more will to talk.
I lean on the bar stool styled chair, my head spinning, my eyes closed also if outside nothing was seen, my face still smiling, my lips forced to smile when in a relaxed position due to the molded latex lips still covering my real ones. I then start to sob, an awful thing to do when you have no room for tears and no air for lungs.
I can feel a hand on me. A sweet one.
Mom is near me. She lifted and she cupped with her hands my right one.
“Dear, why you do not go in kitchen and search for hot water? I would like a tea…” she says to dad.
“What?” he nearly shouts.
“Do it, please. This is girl-girl talk. I’m sure you will find something to keep you busy for a while. A long while.” she says.
He grunts and looks at her, then he nods and complies.
“Let seat, shall we, pumpkin?”
“I cannot, mom. My skin is not letting me do normal things. My joints are… restrained, let say.”
“We wanted to surprise you today. Dad job moved him in your city, so we had to move also. We rented a house not so far from here, I can do the walk in more or less ten minutes. But seems you surprised us more.” she still pats my hand.
“Mom, I… I feel I disappointed you.. and dad.”
“You surprised us, but not disappointed. Sure, I feel a little bit betrayed, but not for what you did, I mean, you want it and you seem happy. Just it’s something about the fact you spoke to your love and not to us, but it’s the mother in me that talks. The woman, well, she understands you. Some things must be private.”
“Yes. I’m happy. I feel really myself like this.”
“You are not hiding us, dunno… violence, blackmail?”
“No, no. We did it in a consensual way and my love is so caring. He is stopping me to do things outside safety.” I say with a smile, a larger one than my mask.
“The mask you are on… can you remove it?”
“No, it’s locked. I can, but only for safety reasons if I want. But now that you both saw me, I think it’s not a safety reason. I’m still your girl under it, just… different.”
“This is sure. The face, the skin, the dress. Why… latex?”
“I like everything on it: the smell, the texture, how it’s hugging me.”
“You mean… you like it or you… you know?”
“No and yes, but I’m not that level. I need it as protection, and I feel really myself as this.” I move my arms and hands, showing her how the skin is controlling my joints movements.
“And when out?”
“I sometime use latex clothing, but not so often, while I never go out without my skin. This is how around they know me, and they are used now to see me as you are seeing me.”
“And no one called the police or an asylum?” dad asks me sarcastic from the kitchen.
I sigh, lowering as much as I could the head in shame and sadness.
“You are gentle as a rock. Find something else to keep you busy, and not listening other people chats.” she says to him hard. “I cannot say I understand her, but we can try to do it in the future, considering we will be nearly neighborhood.”
“Whatever. I think it’s strange.” He still shouts form the kitchen, but moving in the room with a cup of hot tea.
“True, but she is not doing anything wrong, and for sure she is not able to do anything wrong to anyone restrained as she is. She can barely touch her face with her arm.”
He looks me, then her, then me again.
“Fine.” He sighs, passing the cup of tea to mom. “You know me, I’m not used to be scared, and when I am I move forward to be aggressive and rude. I have to admit I need time to digest the situation, but if you say you are doing it since years and no one called police yet, I will not be the one. Just consider that for my point of view it’s not a normal thing. And I was, and a little bit I am still concerned about you doing this for your will and not for some strange reason.”
“I know, dad.” I say. “But this way I’m the woman I want to be.”
“A beautiful one. Look at you, you are so slim and perfect.” Mom says.
“The suit helps me.”
Dad put down the coffee cup he had in hand and looks me.
“Fine, next time we want to surprise you we will tell you in advance.” He looks really deep in me, and I feel as the small girl coming home with a bad result on some exam. Then he smiles, a large one. “Now come here and hugs me.”
I sob again, but for relief this time, and move to him. I’m slightly higher than he is, hugging him as he is doing the same with me.
Mom hugs us also, and we stay like this for a while.
When we stop the hug, dad, still looking ad acting as pissed off, but his voice is no more hard, seats on the chair near me and looks me.
“Now, I will not say I will agree, but I want to understand, so… Tell me more about your new self, honey.” he smiles.
I nod, or try to do it, and start to talk. It will be a long chat, but we have time to recover from years of lies from my side.
Part 3
A mother and a daughter play dress up in latex.
Since mom and dad discovered my new lifestyle, things in general changed a lot, also if not so much on my daily life.
After the long discussion we had when they discovered me, several months ago, we started to find a new equilibrium in our lives. It was not only the fact they discovered I’m a latex and bondage fetishist, a special one, loving to appear and act as a doll also in public rather than be physically restrained by ropes or similar things. It was also a change in my family life. They moved int he same town we are, but both mom and dad had to find a new equilibrium. Dad had a promotion, but this, apart the money upgrade, was also obliging him to be often away from home for several days, while before he had just the trip home to office and back.
Mom and I, after an initial period where she had to recollect herself about the strange life of her daughter, we went out daily for shopping and walking, just passing time together as we were missing those moments. I helped her to discover the shops, the mall and similar in a city for her totally new and soon she was know in the zone as much as me. She was clearly distressed the first times to move around with me, to wait me due to my restrained movements, sometime because my ballet heels, sometime because my latex dresses or other things hidden under normal dresses but still styled to appear eye-catching. I love vintage style, the ‘50 in particular, so also if more than appropriate, it is a style that can not be considered… normal. But after some week, she was no more in shame or in fear that someone stopped us asking why I was masked, or mute, or shiny, or with green hairs or whatever I decide, or my love decided, I had to wear.
It was a couple of weeks ago than she asked me why I love so much the ‘50 and the restraining styles for clothing. We were walking from her home to a park not so far, just enjoying the bright day and the sun and the sweet air. Well, so she said, my skin was removing me all the sensations from hot, cold, breeze and also nearly all the color, my life a sepia movie due to the special lenses I had on my mask. She was dressed in a simple olive green dress with under the knee pleated gown and a jacket, along with a white female cotton shirt. I was in my white and flaming red outfit directly from some ‘50 movie, with a high necked white long sleeved sweater over a red gown and sheer pantyhose. The only fetish part was that the pantyhose were smoked latex, the shoes calf length red shiny ballet boots with 4" chain locked between D-ring on my ankles and that my hand and face were my skin, so the latex shiny and artificial looking suit reducing if not stealing my movements. I went for a Marilyn Monroe wig, both in color and style, something heavily mimicking “How to Marry a Millionaire” movie.
“I frankly do not know. Probably is like the same reason you like formal dresses and girdles as undergarments. I like the aesthetic of them and they suits me really good. I mean, if you think, I’m a sort of living Barbie and the first dresses for her were from late ‘50. My corsetted waist, my lack of movements. Probably somehow I would like to be her.” I wrote to her using my phone.
She looked at it and nodded.
“Probably you are right. Just I hope you want not to be totally plastic and mindless as a real doll.”
I moved my head as much as I could to say no.
“I like the restrictions, but in a fair way. I mean, I wanna be totally independent. As I am, also if more and more restrained. Every day I try to push me more on my limits, go beyond them so I can know I can restrain myself more.”
“More?” She asked me.
“Yes. This is actually my best, but if you would see my first best, you would laugh, probably.”
She just smiled and let fall the subject.
Yesterday, she wrote me she would like to come home for a chat and to cook something together, because there was dad birthday coming, and she wanted to try a new cake with me. I texted her to come when she wanted, and because dad was away some day and the same my love, she could stay overnight if she wanted. She agreed.
So today she rings at my door mid morning. I’m up already since three hours, I’m an early person and having alarm clock piercing my whole ears by the earbuds embedded in my skin is really helping me to wake up at the right time. The alarm is stopped automatically by internal sensors that register I’m standing up, and also other sensors embedded int he suit are monitoring my status, as normal when my love is away. If something is outside normal, he is advised immediately on his app, and if needed, he can contact me or release me also in remote. But everything is fine, I check my waste bag, clean myself internally and shine my skin before slipping in a pinkish translucent latex tracksuit, perfect for a lazy day at home with mom. It was not the first time she would see me like it, so I’m sure she will not stare at me too much. Low heeled shoes and a flaming red long straight hair wig completed my today look. I’m preparing some cherry tea when she rings. I open the door, smiling as always, my mouth filled with my mold stealing my voice, my taste and my tongue movement.
“Mghhtt, mmmmohherr.” I say with some effort.
“Hi honey. How are you? I see you are as always smiling…” she jokes.
I nod as much as my embedded posture collar let me and let her in. She sometime jokes about my condition, but I see she is ok with it. Maybe not understanding all the details, as my need to be restrained and controlled in everything, including my bathroom needs, but she accepts it.
“I can smell tea. Cherry one. May I steal a cup?”
“Heesh.” I moved rigidly with her to the kitchen, seating on the high chair, my knees refusing to bend more than 45° as my elbows. Mom serves herself the tea and does a cup for me too.
“Can you taste it?”
I shake slowly my head. Just some degree, but enough for her to understand.
“So you can drink everything, also disgusting, and you do not taste it?”
I nod. I know it’s really hot because all my mugs are the “magic mug” style, the ones that change color or let images appear if the liquid inside is really hot. I learned to drink it when the drawing is starting to fading away, or my stomach would hurt. I can not feel the heat while in my mouth and part of the throat, but when the liquid pass through the small hole in the mold, well, it’s another story. She puffs on on her mug and smiles. “I have to confess you something.”
I looks her in my always sepia world, and indicate her to go on.
“I’m here for the cake, but also for a thought I had in my mind since several days.”
“Mghh…”
“You remember when we spoke about how you started and the first suits you had?” I nodded slightly. She moves uneasy on the chair and coughs a couple of times. “I was thinking if you can show me them. I mean, I’m curious. What you have on is more like a mix of an armor and a prison, something that just thinking of it it’s letting me breathless and claustrophobic, but I would like to see how everything started. Think of it as a way for me to understand better your will, your needs.”
“Mghhttt? Mmmmhh!”
“It is a yes?” she asks puzzled.
I move to catch my smartphone and write, showing her the text.
“It’s only curiosity? You are acting strange mom.” she reads and giggles embarrassed. “Well, maybe… I… Well… I see how a lot of people looks you, and how your love looks you. And I miss it from dad.”
“Mghh?!” I nearly shout, ready to remove my mold.
“No, no. I mean, he loves me and I love him so much I cannot imagine to loose him or similar, but sometime I think we went on a sort of routine where there is no more… space for spiced sexual life.”
“So you want to see if I can help you to spice up your life in some way?” I write.
“Maybe.” she sighs. “I dunno. It could be. I know he is not into latex as your love is, but I recognize he liked and still like the old movies, the ones where the girls are more like you than like me.”
“You are still beautiful.”
“Thank you.” she smiles. “I know I’m still in good shape, but probably it’s something linked to be… old. I mean, I’m on my fifty.”
“Early fifty. And you look beautiful, your body can be easily the one of a thirty something.”
“Yeah, but not my face, my hairs and not my waist. Not for sure as your waist.”
I giggle under the mask.
“Well, a tight corset and months of almost liquid diet can help. But you still use the Playtex girdles?”
She nods.
I moan a little bit as thinking.
“Ok, what about letting you try my first suit? Just for fun, and you can stop me wherever you want.”
“You mean?”
“Why not? It was your idea, after all. But my conditions.”
“What con… conditions?” she stutters.
“You will not see the final result until the end. I will blindfold you during the whole process. But you can stop me if you feel too weird or in pain.” I write adding a smile.
She looks me, then slowly nods.
“Yes, I want to see if I can feel again that spark when I was looked by men. I do not want to have affair, but I want to be appreciate again. More than I am actually.” she smiles.
I giggle, or try to do considering my mold, then write again.
“Maybe one day we will go out as twins.”
She looks me with wide eyes and nearly pale.
“M… maybe but I mean, I do not think I can cope with… you know… I mean, you never entered in the real details.”
I nod slightly, writing more.
“Let say some detail is better to remain covered. Now let’s go my room, so we can find the right blindfold and the right suit for you. I maintained all of them as treasures. All of them are made with love and passion.”
We moved to my room. Well, to my and my love room. The first time I showed it to mom she was probably thinking to enter in a fetish dungeon, with chains at the wall, gags and hoods or maybe some torture devices. I remember she was nearly disappointed to see it was a totally vanilla room. A king size bed with simple bed-sheets, a small mirror on a desk for some make-up and a big wardrobe, where I have my dresses, both fetish ad not, and my suits. I have two of them, identical, but the other ones, the old ones, are still conserved in vacuum bags and stored inside the wardrobe. Opposite to the present ones, they were more like… catsuits, with no embedded rigid lattice or stays as my actual skin, so easy to store away. I search my first one and look it trough the thick plastic of the bag. I searched also a simple leather blindfold, finding it in the small box where we had some bondage item. Because she would not see soon, I decide to remove my mold so mom can hear me.
“Whaithh mee heerh” I gurgle and exit to remove the mold on the bathroom, washing it and coughing a little bit due to the length.
When I’m back she is moving in her hands the black blindfold.
“Are you ok mom?”
She just nods.
“Wanna me to blindfold you and start to dress you?”
Again, she nods, never stopping to look at the blindfold. Then she smiles and put it on, buckling it, blinding herself.
“I’m ready. do you need me to undress?” she breathes deeply, as trying to ease the stress.
“Yes, thank you. Tell me if you need help.” I say, not sure I can be really helpful with small parts as buttons or hooks due to my nearly rigid, surely impaired, fingers gloved in so thick and tight latex.
“I think I can do by myself, just to know… how undressed I must be?” she asks me, blushing slightly thinking the answer I could give her.
“It can be too much to say totally naked? I think it’s the best if you can try the original feelings I had, and furthermore, having anything under your new skin would probably bother you soon.” I says, moving to her and holding her shaking hands in my rigid and cold ones. “I’m still your pumpkin, mom. Everything is fine. You have not to do it if you do not want.”
“I want, honey. Just I feel stupid.”
“Stupid why?”
“Because I can not understand you, but I deeply envy you about the stares and glances you receive. No one is a mocking one, or a lewd one. Well, maybe some, but you seems mainly to have smiling looks. Guys looks you, girls looks you. I want someone to look at me the same way.”
“But between you and dad…”
“I love him, but we are sort of… cold now. I love him, he loves me, this is sure, but we are just… used to be an old couple. I need… need…” she stutters.
“You need sex mom?”
She starts to sob nodding, the tears absorbed by the blindfold.
“Yes. I need it. I need it to feel alive, to feel loved, to feel again the woman he married. I want him to see me and jump on me.”
“But dressing and acting as me it’s not…”
“No. He was feared you was on a bad path, but he is convinced, just he wants not to give you the idea he is ok with your lifestyle. You know, acting as the old grunting caveman he always wants to be, but he told me he is happy you and your love are together, and he sometime told me he appreciate your look. I know he did some research for latex dresses, female ones, but I want not him to see me in such dresses, not as I am, old and wrinkled as a dry plum.”
“You are not a dry plum, silly…” I smile and hug her as much as I can. “But ok, I understand your point. so let’s create a new mom and see how she likes herself. for her and for dad. Maybe we can later send him a picture with some spicy idea for you both.”
“Honey! You can not say this to your mom!” she shouts, blushing more.
“When I wold finish with you, you will not be any more my mom, more my slightly older sister.” I say serious, then I tap her chest. “Come on, better if you undress quickly, or maybe I can find where I put the whip.”
“You have one for real?” she asks while starting to undress.
“Frankly? No. My love played a couple of times the bad guy, but he is too silly, and false mustaches are not helping the credibility of the role…” I giggle, moving to the suit and opening the bag, revealing the mannequin colored latex catsuit with back zipper, paired latex elbow gloves, short latex socks with single toe and a hood with skillfully painted female features, really similar to a doll, not a cheap one, but more as a sensual latex Barbie doll.
I search also a corset, one that can be used with mom, not too tight, but enough to let her fit inside the catsuit, made with measures from myself when I started to be corsetted. I find it, in black, but there is no problem, it would be hidden under the catsuit. I waits her to undress totally, admiring how she was caring of her body. apart some relaxed part, she was still in perfect shape and the Playtex latex girdle she was using was acting really as a corset and helping her to have a wonderful waist and slim legs. I see blushing internally my latex skin she is also shaving herself perfectly everywhere. Well, a wise thing to do, considering she had a rubber girdle all day. It would be much better. When she is ready, I move near her.
“Ready for the new mom?”
“Yes.” she said hesitant, but smiling under the black blindfold.
I will lube your body, so do not be afraid of my hands on you, ok? It’s slightly cold at the touch and apparently oily, but it will warm soon and more when you will be in latex."
She nods and let me massage her legs and torso and arms up to the neck in a skin friend lube I normally use. Some goes inside the catsuit also, the socks and the gloves, the first things I put on her, tugging gently until the single fingers are perfectly sheathed and the long but not so long to be dangerous nails are visible under the mannequin, artificial and shiny chlorinated latex.
“How do they feel on you, mom?”
“Strange. I mean, they seems thick as the household gloves I normally use, but at the same time more hugging, as the disposable gloves used by doctors. I feel as everywhere in my hands and forearm is hugged… I can say caressed?”
“Yes, you may. It’s the latex, the chlorinated one, so much more silky than the normal used for example for disposable gloves. Now I will let you seat on a chair. You can feel on your back, and I will put on you socks, then the corset and catsuit and the mask, ok?”
She nods, breathing quicker, slightly feared.
“Corset? I will have your waist?”
“No, mom. I have it after years of tight lacing. Yours will be… let say slightly thinner than the one you are used with the girdle and much more hugging you, because the corset will help both to be rigid on waist and push your chest up.”
“Ok, if you say so.” she mumbles, and just touches her blindfolded face with her gloved hands, sometime stopping the fingers near the nose as to inhale the strange, strong, but for what I can see, pleasurable for her, smell.
I help her up and I move on her back with the corset.
“Now I will wrap it around your waist and start to close it. I need it fully closed if you want to have the catsuit on, ok? But please, if something is painful, if you feel some pain or distress, tell me immediately.”
She just smiles and nods.
“Go on.”
I smile, something broader than the smile of my mask, and gently wrap the corset around her torso and start to tighten it, both to let her be accustomed and because my restrained hands and fingers. Time goes on, as the waist of my mother is reduced more and more, obliging her to change the way to breathe. she touches her sides, as to test the tightness.
“Are you ok? Do you want me to stop?” I ask concerned, when a inch is missing to close the corset totally.
“No way. I like the sensation. I mean, is similar and at the same time totally different than my girdle. Is tougher, is firmer, but also is more supporting and I like it a lot. Close it all the way if you can.”
“As you wish, but beware of your desire.” I giggle and after a while close totally the laces and do a double knot to avoid it to loose by chance. “Done. You look stunning mom, i have to say.” I clap my nearly rigid hands and look her.
She twirls slowly on herself, still caressing the whole corset, feeling how it was giving her a better shape and firmer, fuller breasts.
“Oh my. Do you feel the same?”
“Probably yes.”
“It is so strange but it let me feel alive in some way, more than normally. Can you put on me the catsuit now, dear?”
“The mask before, or better, the hood. It a totally sealing hood apart nostril, several pinholes at the eyes and molded mouth. You will be able to talk, smile, eat and so on, just you will have some less peripheral vision. Can you promise me to not open the eyes when I remove the blindfold?”
“Yes. I promise.” she says and she removes the black leather blindfold with closed eyes.
I fit the mask on her, after I tugged her long dyed as blonde hairs under a bathing cap. Gently I seal the mask zipping it up on the back, then before she could react I put again the blindfold in place.
“Now the catsuit and we will decide together the wig, at least the color.” I say and, helped by her, more and more eager to try the catsuit.
Soon, after several snapping and tugging, the back zipper is closed and my mom is disappeared totally under a latex layer. I gasp, because she is practically identical to me; better, to myself some years ago. The staring blue eyes, the shiny mannequin skin. she was fantastic and I can now really understand why my love gasped when he saw me first time dressed in it.
“Anything wrong?” she asks, caressing her body and head and everything. “It is so smooth and strange. I feel warm, but not hot or bothered and I like the gentle smell of the latex and the lube. You spoke about a wig. Do you have something totally opposite to my old self.”
“Something dazzling as my today wig?”
She seems to think.
“No. I want something extreme yes, but still natural. Do you have something in deep black, maybe long and straight?”
“Sure.” I say, then an idea arrives on my head. “Mom, are you ok if I try to create a lolita goth style with you?”
“A what? I do not follow those modern rock bands!”
I laugh and pat her gloved hands.
“Mom, it is a style of dress and make-up. Dark hairs, dark but sweet clothes, makeup similar to Wednesday, the girl from Addams Family. This is more or less the style I’m speaking about. I have something can fit the idea. It will be fun and sweet and eye-catching, but totally on the safe side.”
“Ok, it seems good, and I like Addams Family.”
I work on her for nearly half an hour, maybe more because make-up is not simple on a latex mask and I have to check if she opens the eyes after I removed the blindfold, but the final result is flattening. The edges around the eyes, where the mask stops and the real face starts, are invisible, and the long wig is giving her that cute and scary first impression. Also the dress I found, along with lolita black shoes, is perfect. I let her move to be in front of the wardrobe mirror.
“Ready, open the eyes.”
She does and she gasps, unable to talk, moving slowly with her right hand stretched in front of her until she touched the mirror, understanding finally that the girl in front of the mirror is herself.
“I… she…”
“She is you, mom.”
She turns and shakes head.
“Anything wrong?”
“No, at the opposite. but please, I dunno why, but inside me I feel it is not right to address me as mom. Call me… Noirée.” she smiles.
“Noi… Noirée?” I stutter.
She nods.
“Yes. I feel this is the right name for such a doll. Now, do you think we can go out to search what we need for your dad cake?”
“I think so.”
“Good, let me move my documents and money in a more appropriate bag while you dress up.” she says, exiting the room panting under the corset.
“I created a monster…” I giggle and start to undress.
Part 4 (Translated)
The day around the mall and other shops with my mother as Noirée was really nice. After a first moment of euphoria when she was still at home, my mother started having second thoughts when it was time to go out, but I managed to convince her, pointing out that no one would agree that her face was actually a mask or who she was. really the woman under the mask, as she would be with me all day and surely they would notice me as the weird girl and not her. I got her to help me in a similar dress in style, so as to look like a couple of girls who wanted to have fun and who dressed in a particular way.
It was only when we got off the bus that my mother realized that yes, of course, they were watching her, as they were watching me, but they weren’t looks of disgust or compassion or reproach, but amused, sometimes even slightly excited, approving looks. even. They were the looks she wanted to feel on her and this heartened her, so much so that she soon behaved normally. We had a wonderful day as we had never done before, almost no longer mother and daughter, but two friends, two sisters. Her way of behaving also changed, she became younger, more open, as if the appearance of her young made her feel young inside her. She surely smiled so embarrassed, even though her mask didn’t show anything, when some guys muttered to each other after crossing us, commenting almost aloud how cute we were of her, especially her.
By the time we finished the tour and got home, it was late afternoon and we finished making the cake and everything for Dad right before he warned Mom that he would be home soon. She called him and told him to come and get her from me. I was amazed, but she was convinced of it and when he opened the door the first thing he asked me after greeting me was where my mom was and who was my friend. Noirée replied by telling him that she was all daddy’s forbidden dreams, approaching him with a sensual way and printing a kiss on his mouth while he didn’t even have time to react. I had never seen my father as embarrassed as that day. Only after several seconds in which he could only stammer, my mother burst out laughing and she told him the truth. I watched them go shortly after, she still like Noirée, he looking at her strangely, as if he wasn’t convinced of it, but there was a light in his eyes that I recognized: it was the light of desire that I saw in my love when I looked at.
Since then, Noirée has been out with me and even alone several times, so much so that, by now, I had given my mother a dozen dresses so that she could change the style if she wanted. My mother was quick to learn how to put on the rubber mask and tie the corset even on her own, so that I wasn’t surprised that day when Noirée showed up at home alone, dressed in the same outfit as her first outing.
“Hi Noirée, how are you?” I ask her through my mobile. It was a kind of game between us not to call her mom when she was dressed like this, and we had decided that if anyone asked, she was a distant cousin of mine who had gone to live with my parents. For a moment I realized that I hadn’t called her mom for weeks. It had been maybe two months that Mom hadn’t left the house, while Noireé was often with me or out shopping, cooking or whatever.
“All right. Uncle is always very kind to me since my aunt is not here. I’m happy to be at home with him. Let’s say that now there are more me than my aunt lately.” she smiles, making me understand that as I had imagined a couple of times, she did not take off her suit for over a day, with all that she could achieve when she and dad slept together. I push the thought out of my mind, it’s never nice to think about your parents doing erotic things, but inside I’m happy. She is finally serene as I have not seen her for years, and my father also seems more relaxed and happy.
It seems that Noirée’s presence in her life has made him young again, full of energy and also much more inclined to accept the way I dress and behave. Of course he still mumbles and avoids really looking into my eyes, but I accepted it and I know he doesn’t do it out of fear or disgust, but only because he has his ideas and as he cannot force me to be normal, I cannot force him to reason like me.
“I’m glad of it. I didn’t remember you were coming. Can I help you? Do you need other clothes or something similar? Are there any problems?”
“No, absolutely not. Even if I actually need you and maybe some of what you have in your closet.” She tells me, as I make her sit down. I am dressed comfortably, to stay at home, so in addition to my skin I only have a heavy green rubber tracksuit with black details, similar to the one made by Adidas, in addition to ballet shoes, now inevitable since the my ankles have been locked in that position for at least two weeks and I have no plans to go back to walking any other way than with the ballets.
“Explain yourself better. Is Dad okay?”
She nods and smiles.
“He’s fine, and that’s the reason for my visit. I think you need to know one thing, that he will probably make you laugh like he made me laugh.”
I motion her to continue, an almost imperceptible movement of my head blocked by the rubber and metal skin I wear, but she is now used to how we both are used to no longer relying on facial expressions, difficult for her, impossible for me.
“Two nights ago my uncle raised his elbow a little with me. We had a great time, but what amazed me, just before we fell asleep, hugging each other, was his confession. He told me that he tends to be gruff with you so as not to show how happy he is.”
“Happy? Of what?”
“To see you. He confessed to me that when he saw you he realized that maybe what he thought was one of him … you actually had a problem with him. He loves rubber dresses wrapped around beautiful women’s bodies and everything else that you like too, but he has never told anyone, not even his aunt … not even me. But now I know, or at least, I know that he really likes me as I am, so I wish I was more and more, if not always. But he also let something else slip away.”
“Other? Was he drunk?”
She nods and smiles.
“Yup. He said that he has always found … exciting the idea of seeing girls or women in bondage in public while no one really knows they are. You know, like what you do, but even more secretly, something only he and I know.”
“You? You mean that you agree.”
She nods.
“I’m not saying I’ll like it, but I’d like to try. The small restrictions that the rubber suit or the corset or the mask give me, remind me every moment that I am a kind of living doll, of something not real, but precisely for that free to be and do what I want. Now I would like to try to be not only the doll, the person I want to be, but as much as possible the one he wants. His love is undoubted, like mine, but I wish we could truly be each other’s dream.”
“But so he doesn’t change, only you do.”
“True, but he thinks about what you do. What does your love gain? It doesn’t do anything for you.”
“It is not true. My love controls me, follows me, is always somehow with me, I am always in his thoughts.” I write, then I freeze and shake my head as much as I can. “I understand. You are right. He does a lot for me and so dad does a lot for you. He is your knight, he has all the attention for you as you want.”
She nods smiling and gets up, coming to hug me. He knows that I can’t feel the tactile sensations much, but I still like the gesture and I spare it as much as I can, although my fingers and arms are limited in their movements due to the plates and lattices inside my rubber skin that I have. wanted to be more artificial. While wanting to remain self-sufficient, over time I have reduced my motor skills to be able to do what I want, but with difficulty, so that even just the breath reminds me of what I wanted to seal myself in. A very pleasant, almost erotic sensation.
“So I wanted to ask you if you would like to help me, how did you make me discover my real me, Noirée.”
“Of course. Tell me what you would like.”
She continues to hug me.
“I don’t have the exact ideas. I think it also depends on what you have available. I talked to dad about what he told me drunk. Of course he denied it, but in the end he gave in and he told me that apart from what you do, one thing that has always attracted him, without ever telling me about it, is what is called “pretending”. He likes the idea of a girl pretending to have problems, like a cast, or an amputation or the like.”
I detach myself from her and look at her. Certainly she cannot see the intense gaze that I throw at her as I then stare at her, my face hidden by a practically motionless mask, my voice trapped in a mold of my mouth and tongue that also takes a good part of my throat, titillating my gag reflex.
“Would you like to appear … amputated?”
“I do not know. Not right away, but I thought about it a lot after I talked to him about it. Considering the story we made up for you and me, that is to be cousins, I think I have a valid explanation that doesn’t make me go crazy.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy. Just be careful.”
“I know, I never thought you would consider me crazy, but for others. Listen to me, then you tell me.”
“Ok.”
“You are known in this city as a strange one, but by now no one notices your way of being or dressing anymore, or at least they don’t notice it and if you too start to be less mobile as you would like, it would be a sort of natural process for them. . I thought I would do a similar thing for myself, or rather for Noirée.”
“Explain yourself better.”
“What if your cousin suffered from a rare genetic disease that would slowly lead her to suffer from ailments like arthritis and the like? Disorders and problems that would lead you to have less and less mobility, loss or reduction of senses, perhaps in the future amputations?”
I didn’t answer for a few minutes as she waited patiently. I got up and moved stiffly around the kitchen, as if thinking.
“Do you really want to arrive perhaps in years, to seem amputated, perhaps paralyzed, even unable to do things that I can do?”
She nodded slowly, reading my question.
“Yup. The more I am blocked, the more he will have to heal me, the more he will be close to me. In a couple of years he will be retired, so we can really be together always and in case, if we both wanted, I could suffer a … sharp deterioration, let’s say. "
“I’ll help you as much as I can, Mom. I think it’s better to start with something simple, let’s say reversible. I don’t have the skills to cast a cast, nor is my love. But I guess if you want to try, I still have the wheelchair that my love used for an accident a few years ago. That is a bit of fantasy and Noirée might be forced to depend on someone to move, if she doesn’t feel like pushing herself.”
She smiles and nods.
“It would be perfect. So I see how he reacts and how others react. But do you think it’s possible to make sure that I really can’t move and walk? I don’t want to pretend I can’t get up, I wish I couldn’t.”
“Believe so. We will have to change your dress, but we can do it. Do you want to go out for a ride and see the effect on other people?”
“Thanks, that would be a really beautiful thing, my little one.”
“Imagine if that makes you happy. I’m surprised, however, that you’ve gotten used to such a… strange life in such a short time. Maybe you and dad aren’t all that different from me.”
“Probably yes.” She tells me, and follows me as we slowly move upstairs to my room, where I choose a simple dress, more like my 50s style than the style of Noirée. It is baby blue, with a long pleated skirt that reaches to cover the ankles. The top consists of a white cotton blouse, very feminine in style, and a jacket in the same color as the skirt. Long black heavy cotton socks, light black leather gloves and black but opaque ballet boots complete what my mother will wear.
“Do you want me to put the ballets on me? I don’t know if I’ll be able to walk in those shoes. " She asks me, then stops and giggles. “How silly, I can’t walk, so I can put on the shoes I want and in fact, this will really prevent me from doing it.”
I help her undress and get dressed, noticing how the corset is almost closed, a sign that her body is getting used to the corset and that I could give her the tighter one. I sit her down and put her ballets on, or rather she helps me, my fingers are not so suitable for precision work.
“Oh my, the feeling is incredible. I am sure that I will never be able to walk in these shoes, but I feel that I like it. I feel like a strange electrical sensation in the nerves of the feet, as if the thought of having your feet in this unnatural position and not being able to do anything to change it is erotic. It makes me feel alive, it makes me feel… good.”
I smile through an emoticon and tell her to stay there while I move into the studio of my love, where there are also things for the do-it-yourself. I find a roll of industrial plastic film that is thick and tightens with heat. It is almost half a meter tall and heavy, but I can carry it to my mother.
“Get up and lean on the headboard. I have to wrap your legs with this, then you’ll sit down and I’ll use the hairdryer. " I am writing to you, not being able to explain it step by step not being able to speak.
“So this is going to stop me from walking or getting up?”
I point to them with an emoticon that she guessed right and slowly wrap layers upon layers of plastic all over her left leg, from just below the crotch to the ankle, and then do the same with the right. Every movement you try to make with your knee is more and more difficult and the creaking noise of the plastic fills the air in the room.
“The plastic is so tight, yet I like it, I want it even tighter, as if my legs weren’t…” she murmurs with her eyes closed. I finish and stroke her, then I make her sit down. She very hardly bends her knees until she is sitting as she was before. “I don’t think I can get up except very slowly …” she smiles at her. I signal her not to move and go get not the hair dryer, but the paint stripper of my love. Much more powerful, she will tighten and almost melt the plastic if I’m not careful. She starts swiping her legs, and we both see the plastic shrink, wrinkle, almost begin to melt layer by layer as she tells me she feels the heat but not to stop, to continue. I go on like this for several minutes, slowly, to avoid damage; then, I turn it off and wait for it to cool down. The layers seem fused together, almost transparent and thick.
“Try to get up, Noireé.” I am writing to her.
She nods and tries, but she doesn’t succeed in any way. Even with the help of her arms, her legs are stiff and bent, motionless. She looks at me and signals me to come closer. She hugs me tightly.
“Thanks, it’s perfect. I feel so helpless and so beautiful. With the skirt covering my legs no one will ever know anything. Thank you, thank you my sweet love. " She tells me excitedly.
I hug her as much as I can and check that everything is in order, then we use the elevator of the house and we arrive at the ground floor. I change into a thick but simple rubber dress: red skirt just below the knee and a jacket of the same color over a feminine cut shirt in white rubber. Sheer plastic stockings to simulate those with the seam of the past, ballet heels and handbag with keys and little else besides money.
“Ready to go out?” I am writing to my adventure partner.
She nods and we leave. When I close the door I then stand in front of her and show her a message.
“We will not return until tonight, all day you will be stuck like a real disabled person, a poor girl victim of an illness that will soon prevent her from doing even the simplest things.”
She reads the message, bites her rubber lip and closes her eyes, moaning. She looks at me with dreamy eyes, breathing heavily.
“I hate you, what you wrote she just gave me a little spontaneous orgasm.” She tells me panting, then she smiles. “Let’s go.”