Olivia ran her hands up and down her body, breathing heavily. Everything was so… full. Contained. Slick. The numb sensation of her palms and padded fingertips running their course over the flat expanse of her stomach, curving up and over her breasts to her neck… One finger traced over the bump where her lips had been and after some slight application of pressure probed inwards, invading her mouth, and she ran her tongue over her new latex appendage, suckling it with shiny black teeth and tongue. The soft squeaks her entire body, her new skin was making, poured through her earpieces, arousing her beyond measure until curls of ice and heat ran up her spine. Olivia needed a mirror. Now.

She gingerly drew back the shower curtain and padded over to the sink. Her breath caught in her latex-covered throat. Could that really be her? That godly, slim figure, all sensual jet-black curves from head to toe? Her gaze danced upward from her sex, where a hand had inocuously inserted itself deep into her coated slit, up her gleaming stomach and navel and breasts to her face. Oh god, her face… it was like someone had printed a 3-D version of Olivia out of black plastic. It was undeniably her, her features vaguely recognizable, but they were impossibly inanimate, the blank inky spots where her eyes had been gleaming indistinguishably from a too-smooth twilight that had been coated over her face with an impossible precision. She looked like… a latex Olivia mannequin. Oh god. The blush soared over her cheeks, completely hidden from view on her new face. The thoughts invaded her mind. Being on a stand in a convenience store, unable to move, a mindless doll in front of everyone… or maybe a man, or woman, taking her pliant and unresponsive figure to bed and penetrating her, cumming into her seamless latex insides… Whatever dreams she had for this new Olivia, they all included her being little more than an object- because what else could that thing standing in the mirror be, but a doll ready to be used?

Olivia withdrew the finger she had been suckling on, and with a slight *pop* the opening melted shut, sealing her sleek latex mouth once again. There was barely a ripple as the closed, almost pouty lips reformed- mere raised bumps on her featureless face, just like her eyes, her nose… Olivia tried to moan, but all that came out was a metallic, inhuman rasp as the mimetic nanofluid coating the inside of her throat and around her voice box silenced most of the noise. The hand that had been caressing her mouth flew frictionlessly over her blank face, while Olivia stroked herself harder down below. A warm, erotic glow was diffusing itself across her already-blurry vision. She stood there, twitching, huffing, making muted raspy moans, all coated and covered and encased inside this inky figure, and felt the entire world begin to shine around her as she edged closer to-

Olivia pulled out of herself with a gasp, avoiding orgasm at the last minute. It took supreme willpower to not go back to rubbing her slit, but Olivia mentally restrained herself. No. No, not yet. There was more to be done. As the waves of pleasure slowly drifted away, Olivia peered into the mirror. Even despite the erotic haze that had knitted her brow and parted her lips slightly, the mannequin face dominating her own had not shifted at all. What little features could be discerned were calm, mild- an emotionless version of Olivia’s face, alchemically transformed into latex. Her body was still her own, too- a sleek, midnight black version of it, but her body, nonetheless. An Olivia mannequin. But no. Olivia wanted the transformation to proceed even farther, go on even more radically than even being impossibly made one with an endless coating, inside and out, of black nanofluid. She needed to radiate… hunger. Lust. Appeal.

Rings. Straps. Locks. Even chains, all the dark little details. Olivia didn’t quite own a latex collection- she had always felt self-conscious about ordering that stuff and having it come in the delivery, proclaiming her deviancy to the world proudly- but she did have a bucketful of high-tech MNCs and a wicked imagination.

Olivia made her way back into the bedroom, reaching for her laptop. A few keystrokes triggered the next pre-programmed routine, and even as she returned to the bathroom the MNCs in the bucket reassembled themselves into latexwear beyond Olivia’s wildest dreams. A ribbed corset that didn’t even need to be laced on. A harness, replete with buckles, that would hug her figure and prop up her bust. High, high latex boots, ones that would reach up to mid-thigh and yet not encumber her movement in the slightest. A bolero as well- added on a whim, with arms that continued on into delicate gloves and a triangular window that arced over her bust. And the centerpiece of it all- an elaborate latex hood, one that would pull her hair up into a ponytail through the top and simultaneously cover her entire face, reducing even her vaguely recognizable features to a blank expanse. All of this would eliminate the lingering shreds of her humanity while reducing her to little more than a sex doll- both inside and out.

She hastily pulled them on. Buckles here- straps there- her eagerness, coupled with the way the nanofluid-constructed latex apparel practically guided itself together and the sheer slickness of her new skin, made short work. Soon Olivia had pulled on the gear and dressed herself from neck down. Now all that was left was the hood...

Slow now.

Gradually tugging it down-

Slippery, her face, her entire head, like her skin was made of oil.

The muted pressure translating through the mimetic nanofluid encasing her face. Brushing. Rolling down. And even as she pulled, the hood and her “face” bonded- allowing her to breathe, with the same (albeit slightly constricted) ease as the first layer had afforded. 

Suddenly, she could see through the hood. She could hear.

No, wait. She had forgotten- but no. The hair that Olivia hadn’t pulled through the gap for the ponytail slithered through by itself, guided by the constructors. Olivia relaxed and pulled the hood down all the way, letting her chin and lower face fill out the cavity. And it was in position. At her fingertips, the harness’s final straps- the thick collar meant to restrain her from pulling off the hood- slid into place. A tightness. Finality.

She was sealed.