Imagine, if you will, a bundle of black fabric. It sits at the foot of a bed, beneath a pink, rubber hair tie, and an unopened bottle of silicone lubricant.

It shimmers with a luster that you’d expect of latex. Formless, it is folded neatly into a small square, no larger than a small laptop. There it sits, waiting to be interacted with.

Awaiting an occupant.

Its very presence compels you to step toward it. That is, after all, why you’re here.

Light bends about the folds of the material in a nearly-cosmic way, twisting the reflected image of whatever room surrounds you into indistinguishable streaks of light and dark.

You set the lubricant aside.

As you lift the garment, it falls open with a thick ruffle. Alone, it hangs limp – devoid of form. Its shape is meaningless without an occupant.

Unsurprisingly, it hangs before you as a suit – a drooping reflection of your form. It runs seamless, forming individual toes and fingers.

Surely by now, this should be a familiar ritual.


The suit has been oiled for your convenience.

You open the bottle and generously slather its contents across your skin. The oil is warm, and paints your body with a faint reflective sheen.

It gets everywhere.

No matter.

With your hands, you work the oil into every pore… crevice… crease… from between each toe, to the nape of your neck. Perhaps you linger in certain areas as you desire.

The bottle is almost done.

Sufficiently slippery, you empty the contents into the neck of the already well-lubricated rubber.

Couldn’t hurt.

You stand, naked, but shielded from the air in the room by a thick layer of silicone oil. The room is neither too hot, nor too cold.

Gathering the suit, you slide a leg into the rubbery maw. The excessively long neckline glides across your skin, gradually enveloping you tighter and tighter as you navigate the inner walls of the latex.

It touches you as you touch it, and it slides quietly around your calf as your foot finds its place inside of this enclosure. The rubber finds its way between your toes, pushing the oil into a uniform layer as it settles tight around you.

Your footing is unsteady. The oil hinders your grip on the flooring but you find your balance anyway.

Of course you do.

Confident now and of better footing, your other leg finds its way home. Your experience now helping it find its place quickly.

You guide the fabric up around your calf, and pull it over your knees. Its hold on you grows tighter as you help it along. Slowly, the suit begins to adopt your form.

The neckline cinches you as you pull it over your waist. With your palms, you guide the material upward, ironing out the loose fabric of its torso as your hips find their place in the suit. And as you settle yourself into the seat of the suit, so too does the rubber mold itself to your form.

Its presence pushes against the inside of your thighs, as well as up against you between your legs. The layer of oil facilitates its adherence to your skin, allowing it to freely explore your body as it so desires.

 

 

 

 

A breather.

 

 

 

It seems to have gotten a little warmer in this room. Wherever ‘here’ may be.

 

 

Your cheeks may be a little flush.

Perhaps your heartrate might have sped up a little.

Your blood must be pumping.

 

 

 

 

 

 

You are compelled to continue.

The neckline has bunched up tightly around your waist. With some difficulty, you are able to push your hands into the latex. Once in, it isn’t hard to find their respective holes.

The oil makes it easy for you to slide each arm into their sheaths simultaneously. Wiggling your fingers helps work the air out of the gloves and sleeves, and the material pulls tightly against either arm.

A flex of the shoulders, a wave of the arms, and a little help with your hands – the suit quickly completes its consumption of your body with an audible slurp. It slides up and around your shoulders, collapsing against your torso and back.

Its neckline bunches up, gathering around your own neck in a scrunched-up turtleneck.

Its loose appearance quickly gives way to your body. Sheathed in black rubber, your form has been absorbed by the suit. Every curve of your body has become the curve of the rubber. Every twitch releases air, further cementing its grasp on your senses.

 

 

It touches you. As you touch it.

 

 

It moves with you.

 

 

 

You cannot leave its touch.

 

 

Your body slides around within its oily embrace.

 

 

The smell of rubber permeates every breath.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You are compelled to continue.

It might take some fumbling, but your hands find the seam of the neckline – the only edge to the suit, where the outside meets the inside.

As you straighten out the folds of the material, the shape of its excess becomes apparent.

It is just as you’d imagined. Two rubber tubes, placed where you’d expect. Admittedly, this part is going to be a little bit harder.

You take a deep gulp of air, before plunging your world into darkness. With touch alone, you guide the two tubes into your nostrils and guide the fabric up around your head.

It molds perfectly around you – tight where it could be, and tighter where it should be. The material narrows out immediately as it wraps around the top of your head, and you carefully guide your hair through the opening.

You draw a noisy breath through the narrow tubes.

 

 

It seems to work.

The suit’s enclosure is nearly complete.

You reach for a small vacuum, conveniently appearing within arms’ reach. Its hose is thin, and you carefully line it up with the suit, cinching the rubber tightly around it.

Holding your breath, you reach for the switch you know is there, and flood the silent room with the angry roar of a powerful motor.

 

 

The suit collapses around your form as any remaining air is evacuated from within. The latex tightens around you, shrinking and sucking perfectly against your body.

You allow the vacuum’s hose to fall to the floor, and it dematerializes, irrelevant. Quickly, you gather the suit’s opening with your hair and tie it off with the provided rubber band.

 

Three loops around is more than enough to keep things airtight.

 

 

 

 

The suit’s enclosure is absolute.

 

 

 

 

You are now sealed in rubber.

The rest of your evening is yours to do as you wish.