The white towel laid in a messy heap at the foot of Elsie’s bed as the girl rummaged over the corner of her couch, butt in the air. She emerged, victorious, with her own ‘package’. Hers was loosely wrapped in an old terrycloth towel. Quickly, she unraveled its folds, pulling from its fluffy womb a black catsuit of her own, and two bottles of silicone lube.

On a whim, she’d decided that it made no difference to anyone else whether she was wearing anything else underneath her fetishy, new raincoat, so… might as well go all the way.

Elsie’s personal catsuit had been her prized possession for far longer than any catsuit should’ve lasted. Her rubbery companion bore all the worst signs of use: shoddy patches of scrap latex held together scars and scratches across its crotch and zipless back in an effort to maintain its airtight seal on her body. As a major stress point for entry, the neck that held its attached hood had suffered the most, and was a messy overlap of rubber cement and layers of patchwork repair jobs. It wasn’t pristine, but Elsie’d be quick to insist that it at least had character.

The girl turned the suit’s legs and sleeves inward and into its torso, before squeezing a generous helping of lube in through its neck. Half-instinctively, she massaged the rubber, spreading the oil thoroughly across its inner surfaces before turning the sleeves back outward.

She laid the greasy, old towel that the suit called home onto her couch and sat herself down on it, before slathering more oil across her body, starting at the legs. Satisfied, she glanced behind her and out the window one more time just to remind herself that Kay was still seated patiently by the fountain.

Working quickly now, she gathered the suit in her hands, collapsing the opening in its face and that in its ankle into an oily, latex wormhole. She pushed her foot through the hole and aligned the suit’s stirrups, before doing the same with her other foot. Standing now, she guided the suit up her calves, relishing the sensation as the latex slid across her skin and consumed her in its tight embrace once again.

She worked the suit taut up each thigh, stopping for a moment to ensure that the fit was snug. The tight face-aperture of the suit cinched her legs together, resisting her attempts to coax it across her hips. Careful not to tear the delicate material, Elsie gathered the back of the suit in another tight bunch beneath her bum. She pulled on the seat of the suit, blushing as the oily rubber slid snug between her legs. As she sat herself into the latex, its elasticity did the rest, collapsing around her waist as it climbed up her body of its own accord.

The hardest part had past. With a quick top-up of lube on her shoulders and arms, Elsie reached inside the hood of the suit until her right hand found its way out the other side. She straightened the sleeve before repeating the action with her left arm.

As she raised either arm, the suit began to ‘fall’ up her arms. It quickly and suddenly collapsed around her neck with a wet, slippery snap, easily gliding across her meager breasts and sucking her into its rubbery maw. Elsie rolled her shoulders, smoothing out the latex across her body.

The sensation was always like… like she was floating. It was as if she had found weightlessness on land. The oil trapped within her rubbery skin thwarted her sense of touch – her body slid freely within the tight confines of the catsuit, and yet… the suit was fit so perfectly as to not leave her skin. It was… a contradiction. A contradiction… that felt like heaven.

Elsie was barely cognizant of her actions as she pulled on a pair of matching rubber socks and gloves. Each pose she inevitably struck, each muscle she flexed… every movement allowed the suit to work more air out from within, and it slowly, yet surely tightened its omnidirectional grasp on the naked girl that had willingly clambered within its clingy form.

Now enclosed in black latex from the neck down, the girl stood in the middle of her room, briefly considering her next move. The new suit was already oily, but… more lube couldn’t hurt. She figured she had to compensate for the relative dryness of the outside of her inner suit. Her brain grew a new crease as she struggled to parse the previous sentence.

Elsie undid the zipper of the new ‘total enclosure’ catsuit. A generous overlap of rubber lined the inside of the zip. She figured it was partly for wearer comfort, partly to maintain an airtight seal. And perfect for rubber cement, smirked a lewd part of Elsie’s brain. She made a mental note to save that for an ‘August’ story she’d pen some other time.

Once again, she turned the legs and sleeves of the suit inside out; a feat much more easily achieved when the back split all the way down the middle. This was followed quickly with a generous helping of silicone lube – most went in the suit, but some ended up on herself. Once she was satisfied, she turned its sleeves back outward and turned her attention to herself. Spreading the oil across her body was like painting her inner suit to life – the oil rendered her patchy black skin in a renewed, glossy vigor.

Stepping into the zippered suit before her was far easier than squeezing in through its neck. Elsie easily pulled either leg of the suit snug, and fit the crotch of the suit tightly against her own before turning her attention to her upper body. The new suit seemed to suck her in as she pulled herself into its sleeves. Her fingers swam in its oily arms briefly, before finally popping into their attached gloves.

It was a very different feeling from donning the zipless suit she wore within. As she smoothed out the outer suit across her body, it collapsed snugly against her form, blurring the mental line between skin, latex, and latex. Elsewhere, her wall clock read quarter to three.

There wasn’t much time left. She knew that crossing the park would easily take ten minutes. Elsie shook her head roughly. Focus. She reached behind her and gathered her hair, coaxing it into her inner suit’s attached hood as she snapped it closed around her forehead. She reached for the gasmask that flopped in front of her neck, and turned its rubber hood outward. Grasping its face from the outside, she expertly brought the mask up to her head and pressed it against her face. She reached above her head and grasped at the hood, pulling the oily latex down over her latex-coated scalp in a quick, smooth motion.

The mask easily settled snug around her head – it had more material in the back than a standard GP-5 mask, and so it fit much better across her face without the usual pressure points under the chin. Elsie exhaled sharply to clear the mask of any contaminants, before drawing in a tentative breath. As her lungs filled with the thick, musky aroma of rubber, she knew she was ready.

Elsie had thought that nothing could trump the sensation of being ‘eaten’ by a well-oiled, zipless, latex catsuit… but Elsie had thought wrong. As she coaxed the zipper on a downward march along her spine, the suit progressively collapsed around her body. The ‘snug fit’ that had encased her body up to this point shrank tighter still as the opening in her back drew closed. It slowly yanked the clingy latex tight around her ribcage, waist, then hips.

By the time she had finished, it was a struggle to remember where she was, or where she had to go. The boundaries that defined where her skin ended, and her inner suit began… or where one suit ended and the other began… it had all become utterly meaningless. As her hands explored her body, any air trapped between the layers of latex was slowly whisked away, and she was drifting within her personal void – her personal atmosphere. For a brief moment, the intensity of touch overwhelmed the girl, and it coalesced into a soft, high-pitched moan that managed to eke its way out her lips.

But she was not yet done. There was another step. Elsie’s heart fluttered as she considered it. She reached to the coffee table and grasped the small hunk of metal in her hands.

Kay is waiting.

Her heart acted on the sentiment before her brain could pick it apart. Mustering more dexterity than she had expected to have, she repositioned the suit’s four zippers between her legs, before threading the padlock’s bolt through each tab.

Kachunk.

Elsie jumped a little as the lock clicked shut. The sound of the bolts locking resonated loudly across her body with a thundering finality. It tickled her between the legs without so much as touching her, and her heart sank into the rubbery depths of her personal prison.

And then silence.

Inescapable.

Elsie drew a deep breath.

It was a dread that stoked the fire in her loins. A messy blend of fear and pleasure, so carnal she couldn’t hope to pick it apart herself. She had trapped herself in rubber.

Kay is waiting.

There was nowhere to go now but forward. She had made sure of it herself. Elsie clambered to her feet, pulling her arms into the sleeves of her scarlet trench coat. Complete with epaulettes and a vented back, the coat (thankfully) was equipped with press studs, allowing it to be easily closed despite the layers of slippery rubber that sheathed her fingers. She pulled the attached belt tight, cinching the jacket around her waist, and pulled the hood up over her masked face.

Fuck. I wish I had rubber boots.

She settled instead on a pair of zippered Doc Marts with a small platform, before reaching for the doorknob.

Elsie paused. She allowed herself a brief moment of hesitation. Carefully, she pushed her latex-covered ear to the door…

…silence.

Kay is waiting.

Elsie pulled her mouth into another half-grin-half-frown – as much as she could within the confines of her gas mask – before turning the doorknob and pulling the door open. With a loud clatter, a rod the length of a walking stick fell into the apartment.

…how the hell did she find a rubber umbrella?

The layers of latex that cladded her creaked loudly as she bent over to pick it up. The umbrella was clear, save for a glossy black trim at the end of its ribs. Yet another note was tied around its handle.

Good girl. Now hurry along. I’m waiting.
- K.