I was bored.
There I was, sitting at my computer, a portal to the vast infinity of the internet open in front of me, and I was complaining of boredom.
I’d say it was a Saturday like every other, except with the whole “#workfromhome” thing going on every day had become a day like every other and all of April and June had blurred into my own personal groundhog day.
Apathy had become a real problem to overcome, especially as the situation around the world got more and more overwhelming to comprehend.
But of course, that was all about to change.
So there I was, butt on my swivel chair, backrest swiveled to my side and my torso sprawled on my bed behind me. I was so bored that I’d somehow succumbed to the endless trap that was my Instagram feed…
…I never browse my instagram feed.
That’s how bored I’d become.
And I guess, if we’re being honest, I was a little horny too… but also a little too lazy to do anything about it.
But, there I was, lazing around and browsing Instagram.
I know… fantastic story, thrilling start, keep your pants on, I'll be here all night.
Anyway, it was a new account. One of those with zero followers but like twenty follows. You know the kind; the one that quietly follows all the kinky stuff you’re interested in… the one that always gives you a mild panic attack when Instagram suggests some of your real-life friends to follow. It was my porn account.
Well… there I was… scrolling through pictures of women of many shapes and sizes in rubber outfits of even more varied shapes and sizes. And yet somehow nothing really seemed to stick today.
I don’t know. Female arousal is weird.
One model looked too insecure… another felt contrived… and ugh, that one in particular just made me uncomfortable. And jeez, woman… use some lube. It’s like you’ve never worn latex before.
But then I hit that post. It was a video — one of those “Don’t Rush” challenge/meme/things. You probably know it better than I do, being the luddite that I am, but it’s the kind where you give yourself a makeover, then film yourself dropping a brush and tag someone and they’ll do a makeover... repeat ad nauseam.
But this one was different.
This one had rubber in it.
#latex #dontrushchallenge #rubber
It had no description other than the hashtags, and I’ll be honest, I didn’t know what I was watching until it started.
So I lazed there, staring into the screen as a sultry looking red-headed lady in a light cotton dress looked me dead in the eyes; there was just the tiniest twitch of the eyebrow and she winked through the screen, before reaching off screen and pulling out a small bundle of rubber that just barely fit in her hand.
A mask.
Grasping it in both her hands, she brought the shiny latex to the camera, pulling it taut until it obscured the entire frame.
When the image faded back in, it was her rubberized body stepping away from the camera. She was sealed from head to toe in inky, black latex, save for her eyes (and, I assume, her nostrils).
It looked to be a neck-entry catsuit with the mask pulled over the collar, or at least, that’s what I thought — a seam of loose latex around the neck signaled the collar of the mask.
Until she reached for it and peeled off the mask, revealing that the rubber went all the way around her head.
…what?
Zipless… sure. No seam at the neck…?
That’s some suit. There must be some other way into it, maybe an inseam zipper between the legs or some complicated origami pattern... either way, I was now thoroughly intrigued, and just as thoroughly aroused.
Before I could ponder it further, she held the bundle of latex in her hand, outstretched in front of her like a rapper holding a microphone after a rousing verse, and then she dropped it.
Cut to another woman. This time, a brunette — she was a little older than the popular crowd but oozed a confidence that made my little subby heart flutter.
Perfectly synced, the rubber mask fell from the top of the frame into her lap. She made a big show of being surprised and downright astonished, before picking the mask up and inspecting it.
Slightly confused, but with an air of certainty, she stretched the mask out over the frame, casting the image into darkness.
Once again, the woman emerged, body held taut by the same black rubber from before. The same head-to-toe-sans-eyes suit worn by the lady in red; the same mask-over-suit neck seam; the same but-wait-there’s-actually-no-seam reveal…
I was equal parts aroused, confused, and intrigued, and an extra tiny part of ‘coming to the revelation that that was the ratio of emotions needed to get my juices flowing’.
I watched transfixed as the same process unfolded across the world — a small parade of women, each performing their bit in turn. Receive mask, act surprised, obscure camera, become rubber, remove mask, drop mask. Women of different ethnicities and backgrounds, no discernable pattern…
Until finally it came back to the familiar room of the very first lady – she was still clad in the latex from before, and the rubber hood fell into her waiting outstretched hand effortlessly. She didn’t even move or bat an eyelid. Also hot. She strode toward the camera, did a little pirouette, then bent forward, bringing her face right in front of the camera.
It was… almost uncomfortable. Her eyes seemed to stare right through the screen… staring straight into mine. They seemed to scan me, glancing up and down as if checking me out… but this… this was a recording, right? I mean, I know if you look straight into the lens of the camera, the video kinda looks like it’s looking at the audience, but this was a whole other level of uncanny.
Then she leaned back; one hand on her hip, one hand holding the mask. Large, black letters appeared on the image, in the empty space next to her in the frame:
SIT DOWN.
I sat up. Yes please, Ms. Internet domme, tell me what to do.
NOW IT’S YOUR TURN.
Yeah it is… wait, what?
A list of usernames flashed up on the screen:
YOU’VE BEEN TAGGED.
Wait, how? What?
She held the mask outstretched in front of her.
GET READY.
She dropped it.
Relativity is funny. I guess my brain must have been running at a hundred thoughts a second, because the mask seemed to fall in slow motion as questions raced through my consciousness. How did she know me? I couldn’t be on camera! What was I going to wear? I don’t wanna show my face!
Waves of overthinking and anxiety washed over me as my hands flailed — a physical manifestation of the internal tornado of thoughts. Until a flash of black whooshed across my face, landing perfectly in my waiting lap.
Oh boy, my heart.
The video had ended on my screen, and I put my phone to sleep, not daring to look down.
Was this how it all worked?!
Staring straight ahead, I gingerly laid my hands in my lap.
Oh god there really is something there.
I was still and my eyes were wide, but if my brain had a voice you’d hear whimpering from the other room. Was it fear? Perhaps a little bit, but not an ‘oh fuck I’m going to die’ kind of fear… more of an ‘oh my god that’s really a vacbed’ kind of fear.
Is that why everyone in the video looked surprised?
Wait… how were they being recorded?
Yeah. A magical latex mask just teleported into my room and here I’m pondering the logistics of instagram video recording.
I picked up the bundle of latex. Well, I just wanted to be sure. It was definitely rubber. I’d spent enough time in the material to know right away. It was oily too… very oily… and just a bit… different. It was hard to explain.
I worked up the nerve to finally look down and sure enough, there it was — the very same mask from the video that was on the internet in my phone.
Whaddya know. I guess being stuck at home really does make you go nuts.
Well, if we’re going to be crazy…
I picked up the mask in both hands and stretched it, before holding it out in front of me.
I don’t know, I guess I thought the magic would work it out.
Well, it didn’t. Nothing happened.
I guess I still had to put it on myself.
Should I wear my suit first?
Or should I just try on the mask first?
Maybe the mask is magic.
Sure.
Welp. In for a penny, or something like that…
Let’s skip ahead to the part where I’m naked.
*ahem*
So there I was, naked; standing in the middle of my room with a magic rubber hood in my hands.
Never thought I’d say that line and mean it.
Well, here we go.
The latex stretched… very easily. Experience had taught me to turn the mask inside out first. I aligned my face to the inner surface of the hood and held it in place with my left hand. My right hand pulled the mask over and around my scalp, until it snapped tight around the back of my head.
Easy enough… but now what?
I guess I expected it to do something more.
So… there I was… naked except for a rubber mask on my head and feeling really silly about the whole situation.
I pulled up my phone to use as a mirror and… well the mask fit really, really well. Well, except for the collar, that was a little bit folded over on itself. The edge of the rubber seemed to almost roll over itself.
So the phone went back to the bed, leaving my free hands to adjust the fit. It was easy enough to iron out the creases, but it only made obvious that the rubber still had a lot of give to it.
…it felt like it wasn’t fully on yet, as if you’d pulled on a pair of tights halfway and you could feel that it still wanted to keep going up your legs. Well, this mask wanted to keep going down my neck.
So… I gave it a tug, and it pulled right along with me. I kept pulling it, and it kept stretching downward, the seam unrolling over my skin until it crept around my collarbone.
I was breathing pretty heavy by then.
There was still more, so I kept unrolling it, pulling the rubber taut as it unfurled over my skin, creeping across my shoulders and down my arms. Latex somehow wrapped around my armpits as I continued to roll downward, allowing the material to coat me with sleeves and I continued to push it along.
It was like climbing through a tight inner tube…. an inner tube that consumed everything and sealed it in rubber. And sealed it TIGHT too.
My hands were through now, and I was coated from scalp to waist in rubber. In hindsight, I’d trapped myself the moment the armpits were sealed in, but I didn’t know that at the time. Not that I would have stopped.
Onward the inner tube rolled, sealing my hips, before tightly vacuuming around my sex and splitting into two tubes — one around each thigh.
Rational thought had left me. The embrace of latex does a good job of robbing me of that. I wasn’t really thinking anymore when I pushed the rubber downward still. It continued to unroll over each leg, coating each calf in turn.
It was at my feet that the rolled-up edge of latex felt like it began to thin. Slowly it unraveled, no longer infinite, until it turned itself right-side-out in an impermeable seal over each toe.
It was done.
I ran my gloved hands across my rubber skin. Like a rubbery onion peeled in reverse, I’d spread an impenetrable layer of latex across my own. Seamless… airtight…
Of course, that’s when it started to shrink.
It just wouldn’t be right, you see… for magic rubber to not shrink.
I think my neighbors might have heard me when it did that the first time. Well, if they didn’t, they definitely did when the suit “turned on”.
But that only happened later on. You don’t get to enjoy it right away.
No, first you have a responsibility.
I reached toward my neck, and sure enough, there it was — the seam. Slipping my rubbery thumb between the layers of rubber, I gripped the edge of the new mask and peeled it off of my head, shuddering at the sensation of oily rubber pulling against oily rubber.
Straightening out the new garment, I took a breath to compose myself, struggling to ignore the new sensations across my body. I couldn’t help but let a sultry smile creep across my face… you could probably see it under the latex pulled tight against my lips.
And so there I was, trapped in a magic internet rubber suit, with a magic latex mask held out in front of me.
So I dropped it.