Another really cool latex layers in public story by Metilanato. The story follows Carol getting ready for her weekend in all kinds of layers of rubber and venturing outside.
This story was originally written in Italian, I translated it with DeepL and LanguageTool as a spell-checker.
Rainy Day by Metilanato
A girl gowns herself one rainy day completely sealed in latex both at home and in public in front of everyone’s eyes.
It was Saturday morning, and it was time for her to go shopping. Being single and living alone in the small but nice and cosy flat in the city, she did not have the opportunity to do the shopping or to provide what she needed during the week, working shifts that were not always fixed in advance and certainly tiring, so the weekend was dedicated to tasks such as shopping, food and whatnot. But it was also a time for leisure, for recreation.
Carol was twenty-five, blessed by Mother Nature with a pleasant body and an intelligent mind. She had a degree in food chemistry. Fortunately, she had found work in her field, so her job was to test the food of the company where she worked to check quality standards in the various batches produced. Nothing really stressful, but she had to be serious and precise. And a side effect was that she had to wear gloves throughout her shift. Latex gloves. Tight latex gloves.
Yes, she was a latex fetishist. Her whole 5’ and 6’’ tall body, even her long dark brown curly hair were fetishists, loved the rubber, insistently demanded it every second of her day. No one knew this. She had never mentioned it to her family, or to work, or to anyone. To everyone, she was a beautiful, completely normal girl, maybe even too normal, with few friends and a well… private life. Yet, she was also a well-known latex lover around town. She smiled, stretching her slender body and scratching her bald head, her curly hair waiting for her on a wig stand that rested on the bedside table. She had decided to cut her hair completely a couple of years earlier, annoyed by the problem of tucking that mass under the masks she loved so much. So she had decided to solve the problem in a more radical way, by shaving off her hair and using it to create an identical wig, so that no one would notice the difference. She then underwent a series of permanent hair removal sessions, not only for her hair, but for every other type of hair on her body apart from her eyebrows. Never, not even for a moment, did she regret her decision; on the contrary, she was enthusiastic about it.
She took a long, hot shower, using the time to also complete a long and almost painful enema with hot water and soap to make sure she was clean both inside and out. Then she headed, dry and perfumed, to the clothes’ wardrobe where, next to her jeans, leggings and minidress, was her latex collection. Not as extensive as she would have liked, but certainly surprising, considering she loved having layers and layers of latex to completely seal her in. She would spend the entire weekend in latex, a period of almost 48 hours totally isolated from the outside world except for the bare minimum necessary to survive and be independent. Being alone, partly by choice, partly by fate. That is why she had self-imposed the enema and an all-liquid diet for the last two days, using low-waste paste food, similar to that used by astronauts. She checked almost maniacally what she had laid on the bed, everything she needed to make Carol disappear and Latexia appear, as she had long ago decided to call herself when she was covered in latex, totally unrecognisable to anyone.
She quickly looked outside. It was still dark, not late at night, but enough to give her time to get ready and be able to go out in the early hours of the morning and have the whole day to herself.
She noticed that it was raining. She sighed and smiled because the rain meant another layer of latex on her, and she couldn’t have been happier.
She picked up the first garment, a sleeveless, high-necked latex bodysuit without a zip or lace. A neck-entry bodysuit, where precisely the neck was to be used to slide the entire body inside. The garment was thin, not like a disposable latex glove, but certainly thinner than a normal latex dress, and equipped with long, realistic dildos that filled her vagina and anus. They weren’t electric, with no batteries ready to wear out at the drop of a hat and ruin the game, but they weren’t totally static. They had a secret. Inside they were partially filled with a relatively viscous high-density liquid, so that every movement she would make, including walking, would result in their rhythmic movement inside her. In a way that it would not allow her to reach orgasm, but would push her to the brink of pleasure each time, leaving her without the satisfaction of having one, so much so that she had already burst into tears several times out of frustration and pleasure at such a condition. She lubricated and inserted them, taking care to insert the catheter tube directly into her urethra so that she would be able to pee if necessary. The tube was long, and by now being accustomed to the operation she performed every week, she then inflated the small balloon at the end of the tube with distilled water to trap it in her bladder. Afterwards, she removed the hand pump and closed the remaining hole with a small threaded plug, preventing any leakage and at the same time preventing herself from peeing even if she wanted to. She needed a special Allen key to unscrew it and thus be able to pee.
When she finished slipping the two fake male members inside her, she groaned and bit her upper lip as the two intruders settled perfectly, filling her as she never thought a man could do. The rear dildo was fitted with a central tube, with a threaded cap firmly tightened at that moment to allow her, if she unscrewed it, to administer an enema if necessary or desired. She checked that the slightly larger Allen key for that plug was also available, before moving on to the next item on her list, the corset.
It had been made especially for her, and of all the items she owned, it had been the most expensive. Thin, no more than 3 millimetres, but rigid as concrete and certainly inflexible when fully closed. It had been made so that it had only one position when unfastened: fully closed. It was made of thin latex inside and out, but the central part was a 3D Kevlar mesh that created a light, yet virtually indestructible structure, embedded in a special foam to make the whole thing melt as one. It was a half-cup corset, fastened at the front by titanium alloy clasps on both sides of the corset. She put it around her waist and, as always, at least five inches were missing before she could close it. She grabbed a large, specially made metal belt, similar to a sort of small waist clincher, and put it around her waist and over the still-open corset. There were rack-like guides so that she could close and tighten the belt slowly, with a minimum of effort, but with a lot of power, like winches for lifting things. With much calm and diligence, taking over an hour to also get used to the changes that the corset, as it closed, imposed on her breathing and organs, Carol managed to snap her Kevlar corset shut. It had taken a long time, perhaps longer than she had anticipated, but the end result was exceptional. Her breathing had changed to accommodate the extraordinary restriction to her waist, her breasts were now firmer, prominent, completely filling the half-cups of her corset, giving her a figure every man would adore and every woman envied. When she heard the click, indicating that the titan clasps had closed, she tested the sensations and proceeded, this time quickly, to unfasten and remove the metal belt. The corset was closed perfectly, and the clasps were almost invisible due to the type of construction. She turned the clasp locking system with a small key, sure that in this way she was trapping herself in the corset and that no one, not even she without the key, could open it. Apart from destroying it somehow, there was no other way to free her life, reduced to the proportions of a wasp.
Fighting lightly against her compressed and rigid torso, she picked up the main object of her outfit from her bed, a black thick latex catsuit. She had ordered it to fit her body measurements when she wore the corset. Pouring copious amounts of lubricant inside the garment, she began to put it on, enjoying, with ill-concealed pleasure, the thickness of over 1 millimetre and the extremely tight fit, as she slowly engulfed the shiny black surface, sealing herself in it, including the individual fingers in the gloves and toes in the moulded stockings, stopping only when the neck of the suit brushed against her chin. The catsuit had a zip at the front, perfect for closing even with the tight, thick gloves she wore. She took a long time to align the capped tubes of her catheter and her enema butt plug with the reinforced ones in the catsuit. The presence of long, black fake nails on the gloves did not help her, also because the gloves were equipped with shiny black fake nails that were much longer than the normal ones, which were cut short in an almost masculine way to better enjoy the feeling of latex on her fingers all day long. The nails over 1" long were rather annoying the first few minutes, but then her mind adjusted, mindful of all the past times, on how to do things despite the nails and everything went fast. The zip was closed from the waist to the neck, but this would not provide the seal she desired, so as usual, she smeared rubber glue all over the zip and then did the same with a long strip of thin, black latex, pressing it into place and waiting a few minutes to be sure, pressing it down. The final effect was a catsuit with no opening, no way for her to escape except to rip the suit off, which she would never do. The glue would remain until she took a long hot shower. She smiled, feeling almost completed. The contours of the corset were invisible under the thick latex, her body was compressed and moulded to perfection and her naked head was rather odd to see on such a perfect, but unpolished surface.
She had two different masks, apparently identical from the outside, but really different on the inside. She looked at them for a while, not knowing which one to use, whether the standard one or the more restrictive, occluding one, until she decided to be brave and gently folded the normal one into the box where the other, which she was not using at the moment, was resting. The occluding mask, like the other one, from the outside was a perfectly modelled hood that followed her features on the inside, while on the outside it modified them, reshaping them as if they were those of a mannequin in a clothing shop, with only the stylised shape of a woman’s face and oval mirrored lenses on her eyes, letting her see the world as if she were wearing sunglasses but removing any possibility from the outside to see her eyes. The mask had a zip at the back and had a long neck that overlapped that of the catsuit. The two together, the 1 mm collar of the catsuit and the 2 mm collar of the mask, which exceeded 5 mm in some places to shape the face, were acting as a corset for the neck, greatly limiting her ability to bend or turn her neck and face. Like the catsuit, the zip at the back would be concealed, by more latex, but specifically a strip of latex already formed part of the hood for quicker positioning. Soon, the glue sealed not only the zip, but also the two collars, making the whole cover quite unique and sealed. Inside, however, there were major differences between the normal mask and the occluding mask. The occluding hood had small earplugs that removed all sounds apart from loud voices, alarms or warnings, for safety reasons. The nostrils had long tubes that penetrated several inches inside the nose, eliminating any possibility of smelling anything, but at the same time ensuring a free passage of air to her lungs. The mouth part was the most unbelievable and difficult to handle and endure, as it was totally closed, wrapped and lined the entire lips, gums, teeth, and mouth with the tongue and throat for almost 8", silencing her in ways she could not imagine before she tried it. To achieve this, she had to undergo a long and gruelling training to dampen her gag reflex before she could swallow the hollow tube, which only had a small hole in the back to let through any liquids, such as water or food she would prepare.
She started with the mouth mould, where her gag reflex kicked in a few times before she was able to swallow the wide, long tube. Then she positioned the holes in her nose, slowly pushing the tubes down. Her sense of smell overwhelmed by the scent of lubricant and latex, then her world darkened, and the sounds vanished as she closed the hood and glued the zip shut. She smiled, but the mask did not smile with her. Her outer face, rigid and thick, unable to show expression, nor to allow her to make any sound, even considering the tube that extended far beyond her vocal cords, blocking them open and rendering her mute as if she had been born without them. She was alone, lost in the silence and darkness of her sweaty world of sensuality and body heat mixed with excitement.
She struggled to lace up her polished, black latex calf-length boots with long stiletto heels, bought on the internet in a fetish shop, and looked at the long-sleeved, high-necked, royal blue latex minidress that would be the last layer of her Latexia being, not before she had long and carefully polished every millimetre of her black body until she was a real statue of shiny, almost out-of-this-world, alien black deity. After she had polished her dress, she was ready to leave.
She picked up her mackintosh, a beautiful garment of shiny unlined black PVC. As shiny and squeaky on the outside as it was on the inside, with a large fantasy-cut hood, it had a double row of buttons on the front and a belt at the waist. She put her papers, money, and her credit card in her inside pocket so that she was sure she had everything without any bag to clutter it up, tightened the belt on her coat, lifted the hood to almost completely cover her masked black face and opened the door, ready to go. When she closed the door, leaving the special keys at home so that she could undo her crotch, pee or whatever, the certainty of being locked in until she returned, together with the movements of her dildos deep inside her, pushed her so close to an orgasm that she was afraid she would have one, but unfortunately for her, it was not enough. She was panting from the corset and the pleasure and passion. She grabbed a black umbrella with trembling gloved hands and moved slowly towards the lift, ready to step out into the rain, which was heavy and thick. Perfect weather for a latex creature like her.