The Cocoon

The following piece is the bones of a story, something I began a few years ago. Should I continue, or has the world had enough of living latex suits?

*****

Veronica stood there admiring the latex dress for the longest time. She'd seen others like it in the boutique before, but none quite like this. It shone, of course, as latex does, but the sheen coming off of this one was positively unearthly. She put her hand on it and found that it didn't feel cold and stiff. In fact, it felt warm and rather supple, almost like real skin. She had to have it. "Excuse me," she said to the salesgirl who had more holes in her face than a wheel of gruyere, "how much is this? There doesn't seem to be a price tag."

The pin-faced girl looked quizzically at her, and then with some surprise at the mannequin upon which the thigh-length latex outfit hung, or rather, appeared molded to. "Uh," she said, looking vaguely confused, "a hundred and fifty bucks?"

Veronica quickly reached into her purse and pulled out her American Express card, trying to keep her face impassive. She'd seen outfits half as good at twice the price. This was practically stealing! She hurried to her apartment with her purchase, practically skipping the whole way.

"Look at me," she said to the mirror, breathless, sliding her fingers over the unnaturally smooth fabric. "I'm beautiful." Had there been someone else in the room with her, they would have agreed wholeheartedly. The dress fit her at least as well as it had the mannequin, conforming to her shape as though it had been poured onto her. Her slim arms were bare, as was a good portion of her chest due to the teardrop cutout. It gripped her ribcage tightly as it flowed down her slim body, flaring out dramatically over the contours of her rounded hips, and then down just far enough past her buttocks to keep her from getting arrested for indecent exposure. She had a good body, made possible by many hours in the gym, many meals skipped, and many miles jogged. But the body in the mirror wasn't just good; thanks to this miraculous dress it was great! Playboy playmates didn't look this good, and they were usually at least ten years younger than she was.

She turned around and looked at the reflection of her sumptuous rear. "Oh, my," she said, actually biting her lip at the perfectly symmetrical beauty of her ample fundament, "now that is an ass made for some serious fucking." She laughed at herself, preening like a self-absorbed teenager. She took another sip of wine and turned back to face her mirror image. God, she thought, this really is too good to waste. Someone needs to take this body out for some dinner, some dancing, and some major league humping. On second thought, we could skip the dinner and the dancing and go straight to the sex. Who should I call? Jerry from Accounting? Bill from Travel? Or maybe that Steve from Operations. He looked to be packing some major heat.

She closed her eyes and tried to picture what it would be like to be held in his strong arms, then bent over and fucked like a mare in heat. Unconsciously, her free hand began to slide across her flat belly as she daydreamed, alternately gripping the material, then smushing it around. She took another drink and then negligently put her glass on the side table. She giggled throatily upon swallowing the wine, feeling a little drunk, though she'd barely had half a glass. She traced a finger over her moist lips, wishing that they could be as full and plump as one of those collagen-injected lingerie models that all the guys believed made for the perfect woman. She greedily inserted her finger in her mouth and began sucking on it with lascivious glee. God, she thought as she continued symbolically fellating herself, I feel so hot! Someone needs to fuck me right now!

She dropped her hand to her left breast and began squeezing it roughly, while her other hand traced a slow but very definite course toward her hot button. She found it in due course, and began rubbing two fingers back and forth across it, moaning audibly whenever she flicked her bean. She opened her eyes, wanting to take in the latex-clad vision as she got herself off. I look so beautiful, she thought, shuddering slightly as brushed her nub again, even my boobs look bigger in this dress.

She continued her self-love for several minutes, not wanting to come too quickly, finally closing her eyes as her own reflected image became too intense for her to bear. Her breasts felt like they were on fire beneath the synthetic material, and she groped them savagely in her raging lust, unaware that her chest had begun to swell slightly under her ministrations. She moaned audibly, her mouth a wide 'O' as the latex began molding itself tighter to her body, stretching tightly over her skin, defining each breast individually, her nipples poking up through the material as though it wasn't even there.

Her moans turned to gasps as the latex spread across her overheated body like fire across a tinder-dry forest. Up and down her legs, over her shoulders and down her arms, flowing like warm honey. The living material worked its way up her throat, and then slowly, very slowly, up over her chin, her cheeks, brow and nose, leaving only her lips exposed. She continued fingering herself, blissfully unaware that her body was essentially enmeshed within the tight, glossy material. A series of sharp gasps exploded from her open mouth, and she pressed her lips together tightly, trying to keep her moans from taking flight, fearful that her neighbors might hear her solitary cries of pleasure through the paper-thin walls. The material flowed across her lips, sealing her in, just as she experienced the most powerful orgasm of her life.