A short story about Fatima and her first days of being an adult in Maskistan.
Maskistan – Fatima by Querthe
The young woman woke up and stretched in her bed, still with her eyes closed. The sun was warming her face and part of her body, under the bed sheets. Her hands went to her hair, long and thick, touching her waist easily. She played with it a little, running her thin, rubber-gloved fingers through it and smiling. She liked the touch of her fingers, when she was able to feel them. It was always harder for her to feel with her hands and fingers, due to the long, thick gloves she loved to wear, and not only one pair, but layers of them.
She woke up and, still with her eyes closed, moved to the bathroom near her room, washing her face and removing her nightgown, wet with her sweat trapped under the thin layer of white rubber with black frills.
“Fatima, are you ready?” shouted her mother happily from the kitchen.
“Yes mum. When you want, I’m ready.”
“Good,” the woman said. “Come on, your breakfast is ready, my dear.”
Fatima, who had turned eighteen only the day before, was so used to going around without the use of her eyes, that she didn’t even open them to put on the dressing gown, come down the stairs and arrive in the kitchen, moving quickly yet surely in the darkness of her sightless world.
“Good morning, my dear.”
“Good morning, mum. How are you?”
“Fine, fine, my love. I see that you decided to stay with your black elbow length gloves over your transparent opera ones. How are your fingers?”
“Pleasantly numb, thank you.” She smiled, flexing the fingers that answered slowly to her efforts, due to the thick layer of rubber and the night-long hours of no movement.
“Today is your big day, you know?”
She nodded, smiling. She seated herself at the table and with her nose and with a subtle touch of her quite rigid fingers she found the coffee and the toast.
“Do you think the red of my died hairs is too much?”
“Not at all, my love. It’s perfect. It will be perfect with the brown of your eyes and the black of your hood.”
Fatima smiled, and quickly finished to eat.
“I’m ready!” she shouted.
“Not yet. First you need to brush your teeth and free your hands, and then you shall be ready. Go, my little devil!”
The girl ran up the stairs, still with her eyes closed, and arrived in the bathroom. It was only at that moment that she opened her eyes and viewed her reflection in the mirror.
“This will be the last time for a long while, I know. I like what I see, but I like more how I will appear after!” she thought. “I feel so insecure, so plain and not cute without my real face, my real skin. And now that I’m at the legal age, I can do whatever I want, including going around in public that way. Oh, it will be fantastic!” she said to her reflection.
“Yes, you will be wonderful, my dear. A real perfect girl.” whispered her mother, at the bathroom door. “Ready?”
She nodded and moved into the bedroom, where her new skin was waiting her, along with a wonderful dress.
The girl smiled and gasped at the same time.
“You bought the dress. You bought…” she gasped again.
“Yes. The one in cotton, white and with blue details. I added a small belt with a heart-shaped lock, the same as your mask.”
“It’s not a mask, mum. It’s my new face.”
“Yes, that’s true. Sorry, but I’m still thinking that your face is perfect as it is, but well, if you believe that the hood is improving your beauty, then I’m not the one to deny you of your desires and helplessness.”
“Thank you. I’m happy you have understood my desires since I explained them to you years ago …”
The mother hugged her daughter hard, kissing her forehead, inhaling the sweet aroma of her skin, imaging how sweeter that aroma would be added to the strong one of the thick rubber.
“Ok, enough mawkishness. We need to start. Legs? Hands? Face?”
“I would like to do by myself as much as possible. So, if it’s ok by you, mother, I would like to dress myself with my new skin up to the neck, and then the hood will be done by you.”
“And for the belts? How tight do you want them?”
“As much as you can, or as much as you want, mum. I’m sure it will be perfect.” She smiled, starting to undress totally, standing in front of her mother completely naked, with her young yet already perfectly-formed body, her small and pert breasts and her shaved pussy slightly wet with the excitement.
“Mmmm, you are really wonderful, you know. It’s good you want to cover yourself. Or all the boys here would follow you and try to have your heart.”
“But my heart is only for you …”
“Don’t say so, my dear. I’m flattered, but that’s not your destiny. The day will arrive when a man will discover you and conquer your heart. As your dad did with me.”
Fatima nodded slowly, not totally convinced, and then used a huge amount of silicon-based oil over her legs and crotch, up to her waist. Then she started to sheath her legs with a pair of shiny rubber pantyhose, jet black and thicker than she had ever worn before. Immediately the pressure around her feet and legs augmented, sending small waves of pleasure around her body, up and down her spine, exploding in her mind and in her pussy, that trembled with joy when the thick layer of latex arrived over her, sealing and at the same time exposing it to the world. Her labia was outlined, enhanced, more perfect than in reality.
“It’s soo good mum, soo good…”
“I’m sure, my dear, but remember, no way should you touch yourself, not before marriage.”
“And how do you think you can stop me?” she asked smiling, sure to obtain a good answer.
“This way. Close your eyes and don’t open them until I will say so. Now!”
The girl obeyed immediately, then she was touched on her feet to move her legs slightly apart. Something cold and hard was moved around her legs, until a faint click around her waist and crotch let her understand that her mother equipped her with a chastity belt.
“Done. Open your eyes, my dear.”
The chastity belt was heavy, shiny, wonderful. It was tight around her skin, around her black rubber membrane that was denying her some movement and caressing her skin and pussy in a pleasant way. Fatima tried to touch herself, finding only unyielding steel.
“How I will go to bathroom?”
“You will have to ask me, and I will give you the key, but until you give it back, I will be present. There will be no way for you to masturbate in the bathroom.”
The girl was shocked and pleased, and nodded, kissing her mother on the cheek.
“Thank you, thank you so much!”
“No problem, my love. Now continue. I want to see you in your full splendour and to close the hood over your face…”
Fatima grabbed the gloves, long and black, and enclosed her fingers and arms in them, until the rubber edges touched her armpits.
“Can you move your fingers?”
“Not exactly as I want, but it’s ok. They are as I want. Now the dress, the belt and I’m all for you. Give me a moment.”
“All the time you want, my dear. I like to see you, to see your new skin. Indeed, I’m starting to regret my refusal for a full catsuit…”
“No, it’s perfect this way, I want to be able to feel the difference between my old skin and my new skin. Only in this way I can continue to feel the restriction, the sensation of helplessness and disability that the rubber is giving me on my touch and my movements,” Fatima explained, while grabbing the light dress from the bed and putting it over her body, covering it. The dress was short, covering only the legs to mid-thigh, and it had only short sleeves which were frilly like the gown. The shoulders and the arms to the elbows would be left free, so the ends of the gloves would be perfectly visible.
The mother handed her the belt. Black, thin, with a small buckle and a smaller heart-shaped lock, the only key hidden in a safe place, where Fatima would never find it. The belt was closed, more ornamental than necessary, but perfect in the ensemble.
“Ready, mum. Do your best.” She smiled, turning and seating herself on a near chair.
“Oh, I will do, but I will do my worst,” she thought, lifting the hood and observing it really for the first time. It was done in latex, a heavy gauge of it, black and shiny, with small, quite invisible holes for the nostrils and strong laces to fit it as a glove around the head. Two large buckles were positioned horizontally and vertically, one over the eyes and around the ears, the other one to pass under the jaw and close them, muting the wearer if the internal gag was not enough. Both of them were closed and padlocked by small heart-shaped locks, opened by the same key as the belt Fatima was wearing at that moment.
The mother opened and stretched the hood over the head of her daughter, covering it and caressing the surface to be sure that Fatima was ok and at the same time to remove any bubbles or wrinkles.
“Mmmmght, mmmm…” was all she was able to say, due to the internal gag. She was already mute and blind, and also her hearing was heavily impaired by the rubber sponges covering the ears.
The mother slowly but continuously closed the laces on the back of the hood, until the rubber was so stretched over the skin as to be glued to it, transforming the beautiful face of Fatima into that of a mannequin, black and shining.
The mother closed the first belt, the one passing under the jaws, and only when the rubber creaked, did she stop and padlock the buckle.
Fatima was trying to say something, but nothing was audible, and she touched her covered face with her gloved hands, then she moved her fingers to her mother’s face, and caressed it.
“I love you too” her mother whispered, while she grabbed the second belt and closed it over her daughter’s already covered eyes, forcing them to close to give in to the pressure. The padlock finished just on the back, above the ears, perfectly symmetrical.
She liked it.
To finish the new face, the mother took a high collar made of black leather, completed with various metal rings, some of them with a small bell attached, and closed it around Fatima’s neck. A big bell just under the chin, signalled her presence everywhere she would go.
She kissed her daughter’s forehead, then she guided her to the stairs and helped her to go down.
“I know you can not see me or hear me, but I want to say you that you are beautiful and perfect.” She smiled. “And I’m sure that also the man that will accept you as you are will be pleased with you and will learn to keep you in this way, or better.”
She left her daughter for some seconds, just the time to take from the clothes hanger the light blue Pakistani burqa and help Fatima to cover her body with it. Then she took her own black one and when ready, she moved her daughter outside the house.
“As everyday, let’s go to do some shopping,” she mumbled, starting to walk on the pavement of a quiet and respectable London district.