Balloons
Margo basked in the sunshine, her thighs spread wide
, enjoying the foot or so of thick cock throbbing inside her.
"I hope this doesn't mean you intend to forgive him", said Ginnie, as archly as possible given that she was busy pleasuring herself with a 'rabbit' vibrator. She gestured with her free hand from across the solarium, her generous tits jiggling merrily.
With an effort, Margo focused enough to smile. It was true that her own cascading waves of orgasmic pleasure were tempting her to excuse Al's previous offenses. And watching Ginnie's bouncing boobies, she was even prepared to forgive her.
******
To be fair, her friend had been a huge help; but she'd also contributed to Margo's current difficulties, tangentially at least, because she owned 'Naughty Giselle's Boutique' down at the mall. Still, before Al arrived on the scene Ginnie had only teased her from time to time, by showing her some of the shop's various toys and accessories. Back then Margo had been a shy young thing, unable even to bring herself to go inside the place. She was nervous enough just visiting Ginnie's apartment, for fear that yet another new novelty item would be conjured from behind the couch.
But then she'd met Al, and there had been some lovely dinners and romantic walks, followed in time by some seriously hot sex. And it had been Al who'd gradually persuaded her to go beyond what he called 'vanilla' sex (a flavor she was quite fond of, thank you) to experiment with the edgier side. Ginnie had just been there with the discounts.
Margo had always been reluctant, but he was charmingly persuasive. She'd moved up to leather skirts and latex undies (inside the apartment only) when she and Al fell out over something she considered trivial - she'd had coffee with another guy.
After that, she had seen much less of him for a while - he'd said he was working on a project. Then he had turned up with a peace offering ... a fresh kink. It was a DIY latex bodypaint kit. The box had a photo of a smiling model wearing what appeared to be, at first glance, a red latex body suit. On further examination, you could see it was a shiny coating of some sort of rubber paint. Underneath was a picture of a spray gun, and a slightly incoherent message assuring that it 'drying in sixty seconds - to be washable with soap and water'.
She'd been suffering a bit of withdrawal from Al's charms, but still needed some serious foreplay and a good deal of wine inside her before she was ready to go 'all the way' and try it out. However, once he'd begun the process (after donning a rubber apron and gloves), she found it to be quite enjoyable. He started with her back, spraying with smooth even strokes - it was tingly cold for the minute it took to dry. It wasn't until he made his way around to her chest that she could actually see results. It looked better than she'd hoped - a thin layer of material gave her naked body a bright red sheen. Yet it concealed little - when he got to her breasts, for example, you could still see the puffiness and darker shade of her areolas and even the faint crevices at the action ends of her nipples.
Leading the way with caresses, Al sprayed her completely, from chin to waist, before moving back up to her head. With many assurances that it would turn out just fine, he had her sit on a chair and hang her long thick hair over the back. Then he carefully sprayed and combed the stuff through, and massaged it down to her scalp.
After a coating over her ears, he shifted operations down to her feet (she spread her toes for the stuff to dry evenly) and worked his way back up. By the time he got to her groin, she was seriously aroused - actually, she couldn't remember having ever being so excited. He spread her butt cheeks and coated their contours evenly; then had her hold her own legs wide apart so as to spray a layer over her smooth-shaved mound, swollen clit and flower-petal pussy lips. She was already trembling when he abruptly thrust the spray nozzle inside her and gave an extended blast.
Once he'd filled her with a good quantity of latex, he took the nozzle out and pressed his rubber encased fingers in, and began to spread the stuff around (while nibbling on a nipple) ... whereupon she finally came. She was still in the throws when he climbed aboard her slithery body and proceeded to give her a serious fucking.
She screamed through three more-or-less continuous orgasms until passing out ... just after Al began spraying her face to complete the costume.
******
She woke up stretched flat on her back on the floor of her living room, with her arms at her sides and the sun in her eyes. Groggily she lifted an arm over her face. That was much better - now the sun was just a dim red disk.
Slowly her mind focused.
What the fuck
, she said ... or rather, she meant to say. Nothing came out - not words, not air. She felt panic, but there was no adrenalin rush, nor the usual pounding of her heart. No heartbeat at all, actually.
Stunned, she held her translucent hand in front of her face. She was a ghost! Except ... while she had no previous experience being dead, it seemed to her that she should be, well, misty. On the contrary, she was distinctly shiny, just like last night.
She pinched one red hand with the other as hard as she could. It felt real enough, although it didn't hurt.
Abruptly, she jumped up, and found herself launched at the wall. Proof of her solidity was forthcoming, as a picture fell on her impact, while a lamp was knocked over on her wild rebound. For her, if not the furnishings, it was as though gravity had been turned way down.
She sorted herself out and moonwalked (ala Neil Armstrong, not Michael Jackson) over to her full-length mirror. There stood the reflection of her red latex coating ... only the morning sun was shining right through. No bones, no nothing. Clearly she was no longer inside it, even if she was somehow looking out. It resembled a Margo-shaped balloon, with latex hair and even latex eyelashes. Mind, it wasn't an exact copy. It had pneumatically exaggerated boobs and butt, and the neck was longer than before. On the other hand - oddly enough - her freckles had somehow transferred over.
It - she - was wearing a velour tube top that she'd recently bought at cost from Ginnie, which was distinguished by the pair of large holes through which her breasts protruded. The colour was so close to her own that it stood out only by its soft texture against her sheen. The only other thing she wore was a silk collar around her elongated neck, one she'd never seen before, in the same red as the rest. She gave it a little tug - no seam and not enough stretch to pull over her head. She had no idea how it had been put on her.
There was one other addition: on her left shoulder was an inflation valve just like the one on her beach ball. As if this wasn't alarming enough, she was holding her mouth in a perfect O. She clamped it shut in a frown, but it was too late. She'd already seen inside. She'd seen something like it before, when Ginnie had taken inordinate pleasure in showing her what was billed as a heavy-duty sex doll - 'As rugged as your favorite pocket pussy', the packaging had said. And now, behind her teeth (which seemed to be made of the same soft red stuff as the rest of her), was a similar sphincter-like opening. Beyond that, she knew, would be an elastic-walled sack, thick enough not to collapse under her internal pressure and strong enough to take a fair amount of hard service.
Which meant ... she sat down, bent her legs wide into impossible positions, and then folded them behind her head so as to give her clear access to her nethers. Sure enough, the same re-engineering had taken place down there - perfectly reproduced inner and outer pussy lips (plus a plump, oversized clit) all open and welcoming, but backed by that creepy tight aperture that could grip any size of cock.
Al's fetish bodypaint had somehow transformed her into an inflatable sex doll, and she knew her only hope was to beg him to turn her back. But first ... first she had to satisfy an alarming craving that had been building ever since she'd woken. Every touch to her skin (or rather surface) had made her hornier, and now that she was focused on her cunt she needed to get off.
She proceeded to probe and prod for all she was worth. All that fingering definitely took the edge off. But, wonderful as it was, she couldn't quite get over.
After brief consideration, she went into her bedroom and emptied her bottom drawer onto the bed. Then she rummaged through the pile of sex toys Al had given her. And then she hurried back to the mirror carrying 'Black Jacque' - an oversized dildo with a fat testicle-shaped palm grip. Previously, she had only ever rubbed it carefully across her crotch. Now, with a forceful twist, she quickly had the thing's head lodged inside herself. Which was definitely nice.
Then she tried experimentally pulling the thing in deeper. She could feel her inner pouch-pussy stretch as she did, which was even nicer. And - bonus - she could still see it while it was inside her.
Before she knew it, she had Jacque's ballsy hilt mashed against her happy clit. She began to enthusiastically crank it around, and watched it swirl around inside. Occasionally, its bulbous nose would force her belly to bulge outwards, or would push out a mound where her tailbone used to be.
Delightful as this was, no orgasm was forthcoming. She was headed back toward the bedroom for another toy when she noticed the box the bodypaint kit had come in, laying on the table. She stopped and stared, and Black Jacque slipped out of her to land on the floor with a thump.
The lid now featured a cheesy painted image of a big-boobed doll, posed in a clumsy standing position and dressed exactly as she was now. It was a crude but accurate version of her own reflection, right down to her mouth - which, she realized with horror, was again fixed in the open oval expression of surprise she'd first seen in the mirror. From behind the lurid, puffy lips in the illustration winked a reinforced fuck-ring, and she realized that her face would always relax into that position unless she concentrated on it.
