F/f second person story featuring soft vore (don't worry, you'll be fine!), lots of latex, and encasement. Estimated 10 minute reading time. Inspired by Rossem-Klyn

The Stormy Season had washed the city clean. Rainwater left the  cobblestone streets slick. Wind lashed at the stone-and-wood houses by  night, making the almost-freezing water seem all the more cold.

Beneath the streets were endless leagues of tunnels, carved into  stone and hewn smooth by the elven craftsmen who onced called the city  their home. The halls were smooth, decadent, carefully manicured places  of glossy marble and polished obsidian. It was a far cry from the  human-made abodes above.

Glowing lights, torches, magical illumination, phosphorescent  inlays; all of them made walking through the smooth tunnels an  experience that was both comfortable (as the light and heat were  acceptable) and unnerving (as the light was never quite enough to be  friendly.)

Eager to explore - and always eager for treasure - you were more  than happy to try a series of tunnels that had been claimed, marked  off, and very clearly demarcated. The rich lived deeper and deeper  beneath the storming surface, using elevators and passages to escape the  cold and rain and hoarding their wealth away from easy access.

Well, easy for anyone except you. You felt no unease when you  faced one such hallway that had been claimed as “PROPERTY OF THE KINKY  KUNOICHI,” the letters floating in a barely-visible blue glow whenever  you approached one such hallway.

It seemed trivial to you. Walk down the hall, explore the  maze-like hallways, and find any rooms that had been repurposed for  living quarters. Disable any residents. Escape with their treasure -  and, optionally, with the residents squirming in your grip. There was  snake-like imagery on the walls - maybe you’d even enjoy acquiring a new  pet, either to keep or to sell.

That was hours ago.

You were growing slightly hungry, slightly thirsty, and  slightly worried. This felt like a dungeon, one designed to drive its  inhabitants mad. The tunnel you had taken was clearly labeled, but after  that, there had been barely a single mark to indicate where you should  or shouldn’t go. It meant that you were lost - plain and simply lost.  The tunnels criss-crossed, went up and down, seemingly doubled back on  themselves, all of them with varying sources of illumination but no  obvious way on where to go.

Then there was the feeling that you couldn’t shake. The feeling of being followed.

You’d seen evidence of other trespassers here and there, too.  Chalk on the walls. Pitons hammered in to some corridors as if someone  was trying to climb up. Burlap sacks with a few valuables in them. An  old knife on the ground, slightly rusted. Marks of a struggle.

The plan was already to turn around, see if you could make your  way out following your steps. Trying to outrun the feeling of being  followed. Maybe being hunted.



===



You had heard the sound of slithering. The inlays and patterns  growing more and more serpentine. The tension on the back of your neck  growing more and more real and less imagined. Constantly turning behind  you, trying to see what was following you. Hoping that it was nothing.  And eventually, hoping that it was something, just to end the madness and distraction and growing paranoia.

The snake was black, artificial, and smooth. Even the scales  seemed smoothed over, shiny and patterned in a way that was totally  solid. It wasn’t a living creature. When it saw you, it wasn’t extending  its tongue or breathing or working like a predator. It was a machine,  one with one goal - you - and one place to go.

The chase wasn’t even a minute long. Tired and lost, the snake  moved without ever increasing or decreasing its speed; it was as thick  across as a person and so long that you couldn’t see its end. Every  slither was more than twice your stride. When it finally caught up to  you, it was almost a relief.

Kicking, flailing, struggling, almost biting. All of it seemed  smart enough, reflexively dignified, if also totally useless. The snake  coiled around you like a python, taking its time. Playful, almost.  Affectionate, almost.

The creature itself had a rubbery body, made of some kind of  magical material. There were no organs, no heartbeat-  just warm, black  latex that seemed solid or hollow, but very thick either way. It was  able to coil around you with great ease, stretching itself in ways that  no snake normally could to make an absolutely solid grip.

The constriction started around your legs. A second later, it  wound its way around your thighs, your hips, your rear, your waist, then  your chest. Your arms were squished against your body, and while your  dainty fingers flailed slightly between the coils of the serpent, it was  barely a whiff of resistance. Besides, the snake just moved a few  inches and carefully tucked your hands inside its grip entirely.

By the time it was around your shoulders, you had also realized  it was coating you with its own black rubber. You could feel the  restriction in new, exciting ways. First, there was the pressure from  the serpent itself going around your body.

Then there was the growing realization that, deep underground  and in an innavigable maze, you were alone - nobody was going to come to  your aid, nobody was going to save you from this rubber golem’s grasp.

And finally, there was the warm, flowing sensation that ensured  no gaps at all in coverage, no openings to use; your body from the neck  down was squeezed in a tight rubbery embrace, and quickly coated in a  sterling-snug sack. You felt your arms being maneuvered behind your  back, forcing your breasts out and your toes straight down.

The snake’s mouth and maw were almost a welcome sight. You  stared at it, and it stared back at you. Smooth, beady eyes. No emotion,  no fangs. Just an open mouth and your own scream being cut short. It  made good use of its pre-coating as well as the snake brought its maw  down upon your head and face. Instantly, you could feel the latex tight  against your visage; slick, snug, forcing its way into your ears and  mouth and throat. The snake fed your cocooned form into its maw with  dispassion - you weren’t even a meal, you were just a target.

The pressure changed. It was no longer a thick, intense coiling.  Now it was the sensation of being engulfed. It started at your head,  going down to your neck. The layer of secreted latex was nothing  compared to the rubber enclosure of the golem swallowing you. Being  caught was nothing compared to the heat, the pressure, the awareness.  Your entire world shrank down. All that mattered, it felt, was how it  was going to swallow you whole.

Your breasts took a bit more work to fit into its maw, but the  serpent simply grew wider to accommodate your curves. It did result in a  particularly tight squeeze, though, especially once it got to your  waist and rear. It was like an ocean of thick rubber crashing down over  you, going from top to bottom, with your shiny fate coming in waves as  the snake took its time going farther and farther down.

Gulp…

You could feel it tightening, too. Adapting. Reforming its  magical structure to make sure you had plenty of padding - no chance for  escape or wriggling free, of course! Not that you didn’t wriggle, just  that it didn’t do you any good.

Like a mummy in a tomb.  A fly in a web.

By the time the snake was slurping down your feet, you were the  most exquisitely packed, wrapped, and engulfed thing in the entire  dungeon. Your chest and rear and face protruded the most through the  rubber serpent’s frame, and so the snake made absolutely sure to slither  in such a way that none of them could even feel freedom. The best you  got was the occasional sensation of your rear touching the floor. But  aside from that, you were a weightless rubber prisoner.

The thick protrusion down your throat kept you alive at the cost  of making you devilishly warm. Sweat beaded on your forehead, wicked  away by whatever magical substance that the serpent that swallowed you  was composed of. Occasionally you’d feel pressure across your body as it  rippled through some opening. It was a particularly strange,  engrossing, and arousing feeling to have your body squeezed , but not all at once - it was always in segments.

You groaned, and felt that tight pressure against your waist.  You did it again, and felt it around your hips. It was maddeningly snug,  with the only senses being taste (the snake’s magical rubber), touch,  and your own sense of proprioperception. All of them were useless as the  golem dragged you back.

After a while, you came to a stop. Your face was surely visible  through the incredibly tight latex coating atop it. You tried to gum out  some words, moving your sweet, cute lips against the membrane. No words  came out through your packed mouth, but you managed to look cute doing  it.

There was a hand on your chin. It took it in thumb and  forefinger, then moved up to your cheeks. A soft, dominant hand that  knew you were a catch -a  valuable little toy, not a thing to be sold or  given away or ever released. The witch who controlled these tunnels,  and this snake, had a growing collection that you were destined to join. You could feel her tracing something on your forehead,  and a magical glowing rune burned into the golem, giving it a new  command.

====



The black serpent slithered out of the room and over to another  corridor. Fantom, the witch who had created it, had recently started  calling it the ‘hatchery,’ though it was something of a misnomer.

A half-dozen snakes had already caught travelers and all of them  were alive and well - if completely encased in shining black rubber.  The snake did as was commanded, slithering to the corridor and reforming  itself into an ovoid egg-shape, with the prisoner inside being  carefully maneuvered to maximize their comfort. “Comfort” being  relative, since they were all of course coated, swallowed, and thickly  imprisoned in multiple layers of magical rubber.

The “hatchery” got its name from the six other egg-like shapes already in the room. The feminine groans of the  newest addition would quiet soon enough. Fantom simply hadn’t gotten  around to releasing any of them - not that she was in any hurry. They  were quite well inside their rubber containers, and she contemplated if  she should let them out at all. She was dimly aware of the entities  within each one; a red-headed adventurer, a white-haired witch, a blonde  bombshell of an elf. The magical connection she had with the cocoons  allowed her a vague understanding of who she’d caught.

Like a holiday present, she couldn’t bear to open up the  wrapping paper when the packaging was so cute! But… maybe it was time to  get one out. Six was more than enough ‘eggs,’ and she decided that it  would be good to interrogate one of her visitors and see if they had  ideas for drawing in more thieves…