Gromet's Plaza Latex Stories
Entering Rubber Society
by LatexLadyLL
latexladyll@yahoo.com | Forum Feedback | http://latexlifestyle.blogspot.com
© Copyright 2014 - LatexLadyLL - Used by permission
Storycodes: Solo-F; FFF/m; D/s; store; displays; latex; clothing; catsuits; corsets; hood; mask; surgery; objectification; statues; gimp; cellar; cons; X
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Entering Rubber Society 3: The Fitting LatexLadyLL Solo-F; FFF/m; D/s; store; displays; latex; clothing; catsuits; corsets; hood; mask; surgery; objectification; statues; gimp; cellar; cons; X
story continued from part two

Part 3: The Fitting

Sylvia directed Katherine towards the front of the retail space where the dresses and gowns were arrayed on fashionable mannequins. Although all the fashions were feminine, several of the mannequins, Katherine noticed, were male, although feminized male figures with feminine chests, waists, and hips.

Every dress was of soft, shimmery latex, strategically placed lighting showing them off to their best benefit. Every dress was also constraining, tightly fitted, and obviously meant to confine and limit the wearer’s freedom of movement. In some cases this restraint was quite subtle. A tighter than normal skirt or straps that draped loosely on the mannequin but would have limited the stride and resisted the movement of the wearer.

Other designs were more blatant about expressing Atelier Sutcliffe’s philosophy of designing restraining rubber couture. Katherine noted one evening gown which rose from a tight hobbling hemline to a severely constricted waist then rose stiffly over rigid breasts and up the neck to completely encompass the head. That particular gown, in stunning metallic blue latex, also had long, fitted sleeves ending in tight, narrow mittens fully encasing the hands, D rings attached to their ends.

Another dress, styled as a cocktail dress rather than an evening gown, looked fairly normal until she noticed the bright red latex frock had no sleeves; not a sleeveless dress but rather one with the shoulders closed off and meeting the side of the dress smoothly. It was a dress designed for someone like Sophie, with no arms. The mannequin wore a thick matching corset in red with black piping over the dress as a waist cincher. The corset fitted very well on a mannequin with a narrow 50-60 cm waist.

Noting Katherine’s focus on the closed shoulder yoke, Sylvia said, “I design dresses and catsuits and even blouses like this for Sophie and the other rubber girls who’ve had her surgery. There’s quite a clique of them now. Lady Brackenridge started the group after her husband allowed her to undergo the surgery.”

“Lady Brackenridge? I never noticed she was armless.”

“You haven’t seen her in the last three years, I daresay. She very seldom appears in public. Spends all her time mounted on a pedestal in the great hall of Brackenridge Manor,” Sylvia said with a knowing smile.

“Sophie attends meetings of the group there from time to time. I can’t imagine what they get up to; I make a point to gag her quite severely before she goes. But she does seem to enjoy herself. Always comes back very happy and relaxed,” Sylvia chuckled.

The red latex dress had a flared skirt which came to just below the knee, completely normal looking until Katherine saw the straps falling from beneath the skirt, down to rubber ankle manacles in a crisscross pattern. There were four such straps, a pair in the front and one in the rear. The straps were tight on the upright, motionless manacle, stretched somewhat.

“The straps are connected to the subject through these rubber underpants”, Sylvia said, raising the bright red hem of the skirt. A pair of tight red longline underpants, sealed together between the mannequin’s thighs with a narrow latex sheet, illustrated quite succinctly that the person wearing this dress would be severely limited in both movement and access. “When the subject walks,” Sylvia continued, “the straps pull on genital and anal piercings. The limiter serves as a helpful reminder that any sudden or broad motion of the legs may bring incredible pain. The subjects wearing this dress typically comport themselves very finely and with slow deliberation.” Sylvia smiled at Katherine.

“My God, that’s diabolical, Sylvia!”, Katherine was taken aback. “Who wears such a dress?”

“Well, I do, quite often, as does Sophie. But we have several clients who wear a dress like this during the day as they go about their chores or daily arrangements. Anytime you see Rubber Society ‘Ladies Who Lunch’, you will, most likely, see a few of them wearing our flared training dresses.”

“We have quite a few male members of Rubber Society who wear them, too. The underpants can be had with either anatomically correct sheaths and measured straps, or in a more discreet form factor where the strap passes through the pant to connect to rings in the gentleman’s sack.”

Turning away, Sylvia led Katherine across the floor to another mannequin. “This ensemble is generally worn to functions such as Lucretia Waldron’s coming out party by members of the press. It is tasteful, quite appropriate for Rubber Society, but guaranteed not to upstage the young lady or any of the guests.

There was such a flap a few years ago when a reporter, invited to the Rubbermen’s Ball, wore an ultra severe seven piece formal rubber bondage evening suit in bright gold rubber. “

“Why?”

“It was a questionable design for the Rubbermen’s Ball anyway, but being in gold and with the total enclosure ball hood she wore, the reporter was more interesting than Lord Cranston’s newly rubberised third wife from Indonesia. Lord Cranston had chosen the Rubbermen’s ball to introduce her to Rubber Society.

“She was in a gorgeous total enclosure bondage gown in metallic silver latex, with an internal straitjacket, a silver gasmask with a 10 liter rebreather bag and wearing 23 cm platform ballet boots. The Ladies Cranston I and II were in identical latex outfits in black and red. Lord Cranston was in a beautiful all white formal latex tuxedo with matching gas mask. The whole group looked fantastic.

“However, the reporter was in gleaming polished metallic gold rubber, taller than the new bride by 10 cm and completely occluded in a 60 cm ball hood! Lady Cranston III was mortified! And mortifying one of Lord Cranston’s wives is simply not done!”

Katherine gasped as the image played in her mind. “How could the reporter possibly do her job? She couldn’t see, could she?”

“No, she could not! She was led to people by her escort, some little rubberised submissive boy slave she brought as a ‘visual aide’ and then would ask the person questions through the ball hood. She could speak although you could barely hear her. She interviewed me before the Cranston party arrived.

She was eidetic, had the artificial memory augmentation. She was so dramatically constrained with the corseted and hobble-skirted latex suit, her arms bound at her waist with gold chains, closed mittens at the end of the jacket sleeves and the enormous ball hood, not to mention she was over 190 cm tall in her ballet boots that she actually towered over Lord Cranston. Despite her ballet boots, his new wife’s eyes were at a level with reporter girl’s enormous breasts (also augmented)!”

“Oh my God!” Katherine gasped. “What happened?”

Reporter girl finally had herself led to the Cranston party who were being totally ignored by everyone because the whole room was watching this gold rubber goddess be led around by her little 160 cm submissive. He was in a simple green latex full enclosure catsuit and not dressed for the ball at all. Silver rubber wife number three broke into tears and ran out of the ballroom. As you can imagine, Lord Cranston was outraged and filed a major complaint with the reporter’s publisher demanding recompense for psychological damage. He demanded she never work another day in journalism.”

“She didn’t get sacked, did she?” Katherine was instinctively prepared to defend a fellow journalist’s right to present however she chose to do her job.

Inside her gleaming white rubber full face hood, Sylvia smirked.

“She got married! She is now Lady Cranston IV, his fourth wife.

The two women laughed aloud at this, joined by the ghostly sound of Sophie’s laughter emanating seemingly everywhere throughout the room.

“Now, look at this ensemble. I think we can make this work for you,” Sylvia said.

She was indicating the outfit they had stopped at which was done in sparkling metallic dark red latex. It was a column gown, hooded and gloved, with a slight train at the back, separately attached to the skirt, thereby allowing the skirt to be properly hobbling. A stiff rubber neck corset forced the mannequin’s head up at a not too severe angle, making the gown practical yet constraining. A matching waist corset cinched the mannequin to 45 cm. Both corsets were worn on the outside of the total enclosure dress and were in plain dark red rubber which brought out the metallic sparkle of the dress, in particular as it flowed over the mannequin’s 88 cm DD breasts.

The entire gown appeared to be under tension on the mannequin, even the sleeves were pulled perfectly smooth against the form’s arms and the facial hood showed no wrinkles.

“It-it’s beautiful, but I don’t know if I c-could wear it!” Katherine stammered.

Sylvia looked her up and down a moment. “Of course you could! A little waist reduction, breast enlargement, and maybe remove some plump from your bottom, you will fit just fine!”

Katherine was taken aback. “S-Sylvia, I am not going to have surgical enhancement just for this ball! I am quite happy with my current figure, thank you very much! And my bottom is happily plump, thank you!”

“You’re sure? Many of my clients find an outfit here, then have their rubber sub adjusted to fit. Or the sub finds the outfit and asks their dom if they can be modified to fit. Surgery is so simple and fast these days.

“Often a dom will have seen the outfit and they want the spouse, partner, sub, pet, whatever, to look just like my mannequins. It’s quite the thing these days, I assure you. Tailor the client, not the couture.”

“I haven’t ever worn latex, just leather. I’m not in a BDSM relationship at the moment, and I must say, the thought of having myself augmented and reduced to those proportions is very disturbing. While the gown is beautiful, the mannequin looks like a fetishist’s dream rubberdoll!”

Sylvia laughed. “Of course he does, dear. That is exactly what this mannequin was designed to look like. He’s a fetishistically feminized male mannequin intended to show off these designs in the most provocative manner possible.

“But we can make up the gown in your proportions, don’t worry. You actually have plenty of height for this and we can increase that with heels. And your bosom is OK for this gown although we will want to reduce your waist via the corset and make sure we get the underbust line just right to amplify your breasts. It just takes longer than surgery.”

“Well, we have plenty of time before the ball, I’m sure.”

“Yes, but surgery would be quicker. Nonetheless, if you’ve never worn latex, you’ll need to immediately start so you are used to it by the ball. We’ll put you into a catsuit and business suit today and send you home with a week’s wardrobe for work and after hours leisure.”

“Is all that covered by my publisher?”

“Oh yes. Mistress Rose gave us precise instructions to outfit you completely and with no upper limit to the budget. She said Lord Reynolds had authorised a full wardrobe for you if necessary. “

“Good Lord! I thought I was just going to get an evening gown, not an entire wardrobe.”

“We need you to be acclimating to latex and constrained fashions over the next week so you are comfortable on the night. We have ten days, which is short, but some intense immersion into latex fashion and rubber lifestyle should get your there. We do not want you fidgeting in rubber on your own introduction to Rubber Society.

“Sophie,“ she called out to the room, “start building a complete order. At least five undergarment catsuits, four suits, skirts, blouses, and sheaths and three cocktail dresses for after hours. Include all hoods, gloves, boots, gags, gasmasks, and anything else you can think of. I’ll verify everything after the goods come up from storage. Choose a good colour palette. You have measurements, I presume?”

“Yes, Mother. I have scanned Miss Duane from several angles while you’ve been showing her your designs.” Sophie’s disembodied voice drifted quietly through the atelier

“Have the gimp bring things up to you no more than two packages at a time. It will do him good to have to make multiple trips up and down the stairs.” She glanced over at Katherine.

“I keep a gimp downstairs as a stock boy and occasional play thing. He loves being made to hustle all over the stock room while in four suits of heavy latex, bondage, breath control, and genital torture gear. He’s been with us for years. Knows all the stock by heart.”

“I see,” said Katherine, indicating she really did not.

“He’s an old friend. I put him into heavy bondage and made him a gimp just after he gave me his sperm to make Sophie. He’s never been free or seen the light of day since. Very happy slave.”

“He’s Sophie’s father?”

“Yes, biologically. We just think of him as ‘The Gimp’.”

“I have no father. I emerged fetishistically formed from the forehead of my mother.” Sophie’s voice drifted through the space, lilting sardonically.

“I am learning so much today. I never knew Rubber Society was so casual about its fetishes other than the latex clothing.”

“For all its strictures and precise manners, Rubber Society is all about accepting your own and others’ fetishes. Whether you enjoy total enclosure or being a man in public with huge inflatable breasts, Rubber Society members all believe in the acceptance of those quirks. As long as they involve rubber. There is something about the material which triggers this exhibitionistic, fantasy seeking reaction. Most of us describe the ‘second skin’ sensation, but many of us seek a loss of identity, awareness, even humanity in our pursuit of rubber life.

“The other fetishistic groups within society have their niches, certainly. Leather lovers have their fetishes, certainly, as do cyber-fetishists and religionists. And within each there are fetishes for materials or design or fashion and there are the more elaborate who indulge in darker, heavier passions such as S&M or BDSM lifestyles in their fetishistic fashion.

Members of Rubber Society recognize and accept all those fetishistic milieus. They themselves, however, are deeply devoted to latex and the sensations it brings. Rubber Society has truly emerged as the leading force in bringing acceptance of fetish and kink to our culture. It’s because of Rubber Society that our country has become such an accepting and progressive place. And they seem to be better at politics too.”

“Sylvia please, you can come down off the latex soapbox,” Katherine laughed. “Even though I have never worn latex, I have always found latex fetishists to be great. Accepting, as you say, and intelligent, self confident, and very happy in their own skins.”

“Yes! Their own Second Skins!”, Sylvia gestured toward the sky in latex triumph.

“Now, let’s try some things on.” As they had been speaking, Sylvia had led the way back to the sales desk where the sealed form of Sophie sat, helpless, armless, vulnerable, but in command of the store’s communications. Four boxes were stacked on the desk. From a doorway behind the desk a hunched black rubber figure wearing elaborate breathing gear shambled out with two more boxes. The gimp was completing its third trip from the basement stockroom.

Katherine could not help staring. The gimp was in such dire bondage, covering virtually every inch of its rubberised body, that she could barely categorise it. Pulling a comm unit from her jacket, she gasped, “My god, h-he’s bizarre! May I take a photo?”

“Of course, dear. Hold still for the lady.” The gimp froze, still hunched, but presenting a slightly more upright posture. Katherine snapped a picture and studied the creature before her.

The gimp was in head to toe rubber enclosure, all black, with a heavy rubber gas mask covering its face. Two dark glass lenses identified eyes, but everything else was scarcely human. The mask was shaped to eradicate any human features, stretching the nose out like a jackal or a dog. Twin black corrugated rubber air hoses split from the middle of the snout and traveled to the gimp’s middle (waist?) then around to it’s back. A small, no more than 3 litre rebreather bag hung from the tip of the snout inflating and deflating as the gimp moved.

It’s arms were folded back on themselves at the elbow with virtually no range of motion. The hands were encased in mittens but were just barely capable of flexion at the wrist. The upper parts of its arms were connected to its side by the rubber suit it wore. Katherine noticed that some separation from the body was possible for these severely curtailed upper limbs, but a panel of black latex stretched between arm and side, resisting all extension.

A severe collar enwrapped its neck and this plus the folded arms meant that the gimp could not swivel, it could only rotate. Its stiff rubberised body had to completely rotate and bend to allow the nearly immobile arms to come close enough to anything to grasp it with the mittened hands.

Looking it over, Katherine discovered another reason for its hunched stance. Its legs were folded as its arms were and it seemed to be wearing some sort of prosthetic hoof on each knee. She also noted a chain ran from its neck to a manacle chain connecting the two hoof prostheses. It was tightly and devastatingly hobbled.

As it turned around to head back down the stairs, Katherine caught sight of the destination for the gas mask hoses. They came back together into a single hose which curved downward and disappeared between rubbered thighs. It appeared to reenter the suit at rectal height.

The gimp shuffled to the door which automatically slid back into a pocket. Katherine caught a glimpse of a steep metal stair behind the doorway, descending into darkness. Katherine watched, enthralled, as the gimp calmly shambled over to it and began to descend on rubber hoofed knees, into the darkness of the basement.

“How can it navigate and do anything in such bondage?” Katherine had already moved from ‘he’ to ‘it’.

“Many years of training. I’ve had the gimp as my personal property for longer than Sophie’s been alive. I designed the other two internal rubber suits it has on as well as the one you see. They manage its life support functions and it connects into the store’s feedstock for its food and water supply.”

“You mentioned four suits earlier.”

“Yes, I did. The fourth suit is a simple total enclosure latex suit I grew on the gimp’s naked body when it agreed to become my slave. I used a special rubber compound that permeates and ultimately replaces skin tissue on the body. It’s available from the feedstock library if you want to be permanently rubberised in something.”

Katherine shook her head to clear it. “Perhaps some other time. I should try on something now, though, yes?”

“Yes, the skinsuit first. Here, let’s step into the changing booth and I’ll help you.” Sylvia handed Katherine a hanger with a gleaming black latex catsuit with built in gloves, feet, and hood. Two oval eyeholes, two nostril holes and a mouth hole penetrated the suit. Katherine took the proffered hanger and stepped into a small changing room that opened off one side of the atelier. Sylvia followed her inside.

“Uh, I think I can manage,” Katherine seemed uncomfortable with Sylvia there.

“Nonsense, you’ll need a bit of help the first time to get everything on straight. Don’t worry, dear, I’ve seen it all before… I won’t bite, I promise.” She smiled and something in the way she spoke put Katherine at ease, even with the idea of stripping completely before the woman in the tight white rubber.

She quickly dropped her wool skirt, handed the jacket to Sylvia who hung both articles on a hanger in the rear of the dressing room. It was substantially larger than Katherine had expected and there was plenty of room for the two women. A low rubber upholstered couch sat against the wall. The opposite wall flickered and became a digital mirror as Katherine stepped in front of it.

Katherine shrugged out of her bra, then, with only a little trepidation, peeled her thong off and stood before the digital mirror surface completely nude. The mirror showed her well toned body, firm breasts, shapely waist, narrow hips, long neck, and bare pubis.

Like most women, Katherine removed all her underarm and pubic hair once a quarter. She could make it permanent any time she chose, but also like most women, dialed in a 2-3 month interval so she could always decide to let it grow back if she wanted.

As Sylvia helped her, Katherine stepped into the rubber legs of the suit, Sylvia pulling them up and smoothing them. The latex suit seemed to slide onto her body with no resistance, the fit perfectly aligned to her size and shape. One leg was even 5 mm shorter than the other just as Katherine herself was.

Pulling the suit up over her arms, Katherine was surprised to feel the rubber of the gloves gripping her hands tightly, but pleasantly. She had never tried latex clothing before and had no experience to compare it to. This was certainly different from the feel of latex items she had encountered before. Surgeon’s gloves and dental dams did not feel like this; the suit seemed to faintly pulse, a living thing..

“Is this real latex? It feels so much smoother and slippery than I thought it would.”

“The base material is chemically and molecularly identical to rubber from a natural source, treated and cured to become latex sheeting just as in the old days of natural rubber harvesting and latex creation. However, a new process, made possible by our fabricators, does away with a need for chlorination to make it slick.

“The process used for the fabricators we license from a specialty house and it creates material that is a bit different from anything made the old way. This latex is specifically for fashion use and has been programmed with properties to facilitate that.

“By using this proprietary process we are able to make our latex clothing so smooth it slides on perfectly while also being totally aligned with your own skin. There is less than a molecule’s width between your skin and our suit, but the suit will breathe via oxygen permeation, catch any sweat you produce and wick it away, mold itself to every twist and turn you make, and even have variable amounts of stretch and resistance. The tensile strength is so high it is virtually unbreakable and cannot be cut with a knife.”

She helped Katherine pull the hood of the suit up over her face, aligning the eye, nose, and mouth openings, Then, Sylvia reached up and pulled the zipper from the top of the hood down Katherine’s back. It stopped a few centimeters short of her crotch.

“How do I, uh, use the WC?:

“There is a separate zipper just between your legs which can open enough for you to gain any necessary access. The zippers are designed to completely lie flat and to be totally invisible when closed. Feel down there, now.”

Groping gently with black rubbered hands, Katherine felt a zip tab and pulled it from front to back. It slid smoothly and she could feel her naked skin through her gloved fingers. Quickly she determined there was sufficient space and access not only for toilet functions, but for sexual ones as well.

“Don’t worry,” said Sylvia, “the next suit we do for you will have full insert linings so nothing will be unrubbered.”

“Do I want that?”

Sylvia glanced at Katherine, her eyes darting in the white rubber helmet sealing her face. “I think you shall, yes,” she said enigmatically.

Pulling a short black corset from the pile of boxes the gimp had delivered, Sylvia set upon Katherine with a flourish and quickly wrapped her waist with the stiff, black rubber corset. Not very long, the corset served more as a waist cincher than a true corset, pulling in her waist and flattening her stomach somewhat. It curved to match the under line of her breasts, but did not amplify them or bind them.

“This is an office corset for young ladies starting our in the business world. It is stylishly tight and will be laced to take your breath away, but no one can say it is too sexy or provocative.”

Katherine looked at herself in the mirror. Sylvia gestured in the air, a tapping gesture aimed at an icon on the side of the mirror. The image of Katherine did not change, exactly, but now she was in a dark blue latex sheath dress.

“Hmmm.” Sylvia gestured again. The dress was replaced with a white skirt and jacket, very tailored, of gleaming rubber, with black rubber contrast piping along the pockets and collar. The black of her catsuit stood out against the jacket.

“Yes!” Sylvia said, excitedly. “This will do fine for you to return to the office. Note how the skirt will restrain your legs and the boots are chained together.

Katherine gasped as she looked at the lower part of the image and saw that a white rubber skirt with high waist had appeared, partially covering the waist cincher. The hem of the skirt reduced dramatically as it fell below her knees to just a few centimeters above her ankle. As she turned, the image rotated and flexed its legs to match her. She could see that the skirt would be most hobbling.

White ankle boots with a 5cm platform and outrageously high and sharp heels appeared to enclose her feet. The boots were made of thick latex, black piping running around the top edge and along the sole where it met the platform.

A thin gold chain ran from D rings on the inside of each boot and a longer chain ascended up under the hobbling hem of the skirt. The chains encircled the ankle and gold locks dangled from the outside of each boot.

“That chain is wider than the skirt,” Katherine noted.

“Yes, it’s purely decorative. The skirt will hobble you appropriately. The locks are decorative also. The chain is permanently attached to the boots.”

“And if one wears them with a wider skirt?”

“The chain is quite real and very strong. It is actually a carbon fiber material, stronger than steel. It will limit your gait if nothing else does. That takes a bit of getting used to so that you don’t appear to be a hapless prisoner wandering around the street. But once you master the proper swing to your hips, it looks wonderful. The 22cm heels help as well. The arch is so high it is very nearly a ballet boot. This enforces smaller, mincing steps.”

“Where’s that vertical chain going? I’m neither pierced nor getting pierced.”

Sylvia laughed. Sophie’s ghostly laughter echoed through the atelier as well.

“Look at the bottom of the corset, dear. There is a ring for the chain to attach to. It will still limit you but, sad to say, it will not stimulate you as our training dress would.”

Katherine’s head snapped up on hearing Sophie. “Can Sophie see even here in a dressing room?”

“No, miss, but, I can hear. That is for security should a client become entrammelled.”

“Now, try the skirt over the catsuit.” Sylvia plucked a white rubber pencil skirt from the pile of boxes.

“Katherine slithered her rubber legs into the oh so tight skirt and Sylvia fastened a gold chain from the boot box over a little D ring at the lower edge of the corset. Then she helped Katherine pull the skirt up to her waist. The design and subtlety of the corset was such that it did not conflict with or even disturb the line of the skirt which had a well defined, thicker white rubber waistband.

Sylvia zipped the skirt up in back and Katherine discovered she could barely put one foot before the other.

“This will enforce a ‘model’s walk’, Sylvia said enthusiastically. “One foot in front of the other and no stride longer than about 15 centimeters.”

Looking in the mirror, which now showed her true reflection, Katherine could see how the sharply tailored skirt tapered from her hips to a point about 5 cm above her ankle. The skirt crushed her black rubbered legs tightly together, and left no space between her thighs within the tight confines of the rubber garment.

“Is it a skirt or a girdle?” She asked apprehensively.

“Yes! Exactly, it slims you, controls you, constrains you, and gleams like liquid flowing along the curves of your lovely thighs!” Sylvia was ecstatic about the fit of one of her favorite creations. “Wait until we boot you, add the matching black latex neck corset, and put you into the jacket. Your black rubber neck emerging from the white latex jacket will be stunning. With a flourish, Sylvia added the aforementioned neck corset, lacing it tightly but comfortably in back.

The neck corset, a match for the latex waist corset she already wore, was not too high, but it did add noticeable stiffness to her neck and made even nodding difficult to impossible. The most she could now manage was to glance down and sideways, emulating a true nod of the head. Otherwise, her head was upright and even turning it tended to swing her entire torso along with.

“I cannot possibly reach my feet to put on boots, Sylvia.”

“Nor do you need to. That is why I am here.” So saying, Sylvia pulled the white rubber boots from their box, the glittering gold chain dangling between them. She slipped each boot on Katherine’s almost immobile feet, laced them tightly over the arch, then secured the chain emerging from the bottom of the skirt to a central ring in the chain.

“Now, my dear, stand and show me your walk!”

Katherine stood, teetering a bit on the platforms. The heels were incredibly high, but she was used to platform shoes and appreciated the added height they provided. These were not ballet boots, the vamp still curved out and provided her with a comfortable toe box, but they were tall.

Looking in the mirror, she saw that the ankle boots were about 12cm from the hem of the skirt. Just enough to let them be seen, but not so high as to interfere with the skirt.

Taking a few steps, she quickly adapted to the incredible resistance her legs felt to any significant stride. Her walk rapidly accommodated itself to small mincing steps, throwing one foot out in front of the other. She could only imagine what her derriere was doing as she swung from side to side.

Imagination was not needed for long. As she walked from one end of the dressing room toward the digital mirror, it showed her from the back, her tightly wrapped white rubber buttocks swinging gracefully from side to side at each small step.

“Damn! I look good in this,” she thought to herself.

After a few moments practice, Sylvia said, “Now, lets put you in a jacket to complete a truly rubbered business look.

Katherine laughed. “I’ll look as bizarre as Rose when I return to the office. In fact, I’ll look identical to Rose. This is almost precisely what she wore today.”

“You will, my dear! You will.”

“Hmmm… I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I don’t want to be seen to be imitating her too closely. It could be misinterpreted.”

Sylvia smiled. “This is the outfit Mistress Rose instructed us to put you in when she arranged all this.” Sylvia gestured at the pile of boxes with their mounds of latex garments.

“Oh.” Katherine could not think of anything else to say.

The jacket was soft, white rubber, lined with black, and so slick it slid right over her gloved arms and across her back. The closure was asymmetric, zipping up in such a way as to accentuate both her nipped in waist and her rubber bound breasts. Katherine was not sure how it did that, but the look was stunning.

Black piping outlined two slash pockets and the turned down flap on the left showed the black lining of the inside. Because of the folded rubber design and the asymmetric closure, the jacket created a funnel for her neck. Her black rubbered skin, completely sealed in the rubber suit with its smoothly flowing hood encasing her head and all its features, seemed to emerge like a column of black ink from the interior of the jacket.

The jacket flared below the waist, just enough to cover the waistband of the skirt. Gold D rings were mounted into the hem of each sleeve and permanently attached chains, complete with decorative gold locks, dangled from the sleeves. Each chain ended in a matching lock.

“Those locks at the ends of the chains are functional. Your hands can be bound together, or more closely or to each other behind your back. There are several D rings along the back seams and one mounted in the middle of the jacket for proper attachment of your arms.

“Uh, I think we’ll leave them free for right now.” Katherine was absolutely not going out on the street with her hands bound and no escort.

“Of course, dear. They are intended for evening anyway. They allow the jacket to go from day to night, office to club, with only a minor change. Trust me, though, connecting those chains and binding your arms will turn this suit into a perfect bondage dinner suit. Doms will swarm you if you show up at someplace like Bondi’s or Café Celeb.”

“Hmmm. Actually, I can think of a couple places I would wear this trussed up. It is a fantastic look!” Katherine was admiring herself in the mirror.

“Excellent! Now, we will have the rest of your rubber outfits delivered to your address. You should wear total rubber enclosure like now, every day this week to become fully acclimated to it.”

Katherine smiled ruefully at the other woman. “I don’t think that will be as much of a problem as I thought. This is amazingly comfortable! Even the shoes are very pleasant.”

“You’ll find more like them in the delivery. You have outfits for both work and leisure and should wear a catsuit everyday. Of course, you’ll want to remove it to bathe, but if you can handle it, you should sleep in one, too.”

“I added two rubber baby doll nighties, miss. You’ll barely know they’re on and they are beautifully transparent, one tinted pink, the other purple.” Sophie’s voice floated once again through the room.

“Will they look OK over this black catsuit?”

“There are transparent catsuits as well, miss. I don’t know if you have a lover, but you have a complete collection for seducing one!”

“We will begin working on your gown for Lucretia Waldron’s presentation tomorrow. We need you back in one week for a fitting and then we will have it finished in plenty of time for you to pick it up. You may want some help sealing yourself in it, but we can accommodate that too. Let us be your stylists on the night!” Sylvia was smiling broadly in her white rubber enclosure.

“Are you attending the ball?”

“No, I was not invited. Lord Waldron is a bit higher up the Rubber Society ladder than I get invited to as yet.” Sylvia said this with no bitterness. “Perhaps in a few more years when my status as the country’s premier rubber couturier is cemented.”

Katherine experimented with walking up and down the dressing room, getting her hobbled gait under some control. As she did so, she picked through the numerous boxes of tissue wrapped latex garments the gimp had brought up from below.

“You had all this in my size?”

“Oh no, dear. These were made for you just now as we’ve been talking. We have four industrial fabricators downstairs printing our garments to spec based on the measurements Sophie got from scanning you.”

“Printed?”

“The old term for fabricators was 3d printers. We have the latest versions in-house for our couture clients. These, what, 15 or 20 garments, were fabricated or ‘printed’ by Sophie as we talked. She just calls up the base pattern from our records, tells the feedstock library what feedstock to use for the latex material, and instructs the software to merge your precise measurement with the base outline pattern. Printing a new catsuit or skirt suit takes only a few minutes.

“I need to check, but I think everything is here…” Sylvia riffled through the wrappings, counting off the items she had told Sophie to have made up. Katherine realized an entire week’s latex wardrobe was represented, both work and leisure.

Skirt suits, similar to what she was wearing were there in black, red, and a deep blue. Several rubber blouses were packed in the boxes and Katherine counted 3 more catsuits, all total enclosure with one sporting an integrated gas mask. Then she saw two others, transparent, but tinted pink and violet. “My nightwear, I suppose,” she thought.

Sure enough, Katherine saw the two baby doll night gowns Sophie had mentioned. She noted three pair of thigh high rubber boots, all black, with heels running from ‘tall’ to ‘ballet’. Three other gas masks were in boxes, each with a different hose and filter combination in front. One was white, one black, and one red. Several of the other outfits were in bright red rubber.

“We stuck to basic primary colours for now, but I see she added the blue in both plain and metallic latex. She has a good eye for colour and that will go well with your eye colour. It is such a relief not to have to match people’s skin tones or hair colours much anymore. I’d say 95% of my clients never show a square centimeter of natural flesh when dressed, even at home. Rubber Society members are very dedicated to the idea of a ‘Second ‘Skin’.

“Sophie, the last two catsuits and two pair of boots are not here.”

“Yes, Mother. The gimp is bringing them up now. That is, I believe, everything.”

“Thank you, Sophie.”

“What now? More suits to try on?” Katherine stretched in her new suit, the rubber covering her arms smooth as glass and the white latex skirt rippling as she moved.

“No, I don’t think that’s necessary.” We’ll have all this and your original clothes packed up and delivered to your address. But I think you need a gas mask to finish off that suit, don’t you?”

Katherine looked dubiously at the gas masks. “I’ve never worn one. I must say Lord Reynolds looked very fine in his this morning. Are they difficult to wear?” The two rubber encased women exited the dressing room and walked toward the front.

“Not anymore. The ones Sophie chose for you are designed to cover your head fully and to fit snugly but comfortably over latex hoods. No straps are needed, although we have some with straps for clients who desire that look. I personally prefer the strapless and only carry a strapped mask in a small child’s size. I use it for a purse.” Sylvia pointed to a headstand on a shelf. The headstand was covered with a very small gas mask, suitable for a child of three or four, Katherine guessed.

Sylvia deftly removed the mask from the headstand. It was bright white metallic rubber, sparkling in the light. Two small dark lenses were set in the face and the front breathing array was very low profile.

“These have a strap across the back and we put a snap closure at the base of what would be the neck opening.” She flipped the mask over, holding it by the strap and Katherine saw that, with the snap closure, it made a cute fetish handbag.

“Do you sell the real thing in that size for children?”

“Oh yes, of course. Rubber Society members raise their children in latex and their daughters need high fashion clothing suitable for their age as they enter school, go to parties, meet friends and family members. We provide a full line of child sized garments, but do so through our online or in home service.”

“In home service?”

“Yes, I am often called to the homes of upper level members of Rubber Society to show them suitable garments for their daughters or daughters to be. Sophie comes along and we use a portable scanner to get precise measurements for the children, then show the parents samples from our online catalog. They pick things out and much of the time the order is ready to ship by the time I return to the atelier.”

“Including gas masks?” Katherine was a bit shocked, but remembered the students in rubber uniforms from her trip across town that morning.

“Yes, whatever the parents choose. We don’t typically do school uniforms because our prices would be far too high. But formal party wear, leisure wear, and training wear, we do all of that in whatever colour and weight they wish. And that includes whatever the parents choose for headwear, masking, catsuits, etc.

“But, we don’t sell many of those things, so I started looking at the little girl gas masks we were making and thought, ‘this could be a perfect purse.’ Et voila!” Sylvia twirled the purse with a flourish. “Why don’t you wear the white mask we just made you and take this purse. I’ll have some others made up for you in different colours and send them over with the rest.”

Katherine agreed. “OK. It’ll make for an interesting look, won’t it?”

A few moments later, Sylvia had retrieved the white gas mask, fitted it snugly over Katherine’s head and handed her the matching, if somewhat more glittery, purse. Katherine took a few moments to transfer her few items from the handbag she’d carried in, a red leather bag matching her leather swing coat, to the new, avant-garde, gas mask bag.

Katherine looked at herself one last time in the mirror near the front of the store. She twisted and twirled, her black rubber total enclosure suit gleaming beneath the smooth liquid appearance of the white suit.

The gas mask had a relatively small front filter attachment, currently sealed over with a flush plug. Consequently, her profile was not too elongated by the mask which was more for style than utility.

Her face was almost totally obscured by the gas mask, her peripheral vision limited. The contrasting black and white rubber, finally finished off with the bizarre new handbag, made for a stunningly beautiful silhouette. But something was missing.

“Sylvia, do I need a hat?”

Sylvia smiled and clapped rubber covered hands. “You noticed! Wonderful! Yes, yes, the outfit screams for a hat! I wanted to see if you would ask about it yourself, though. You truly have an eye for making yourself look stylish! Sophie! The hat, quickly!”

“Already on its way up, Mother,” came the ghostly reply.

A few moments later, from the rear of the atelier, the gimp came shambling forward as fast as its restrictive rubber costume would allow. Between its mittened hands it held, barely, a large square box. It came to a halt a half meter from Sylvia and bent itself forward until the box was held horizontally out to her. She reached over and flipped open the lid, then extracted the contents.

“Here you go, dear.” Sylvia displayed a magnificent, broad brimmed hat of the same gleaming white latex as Katherine’s skirt suit. The broad brim, like her jacket, was trimmed in black rubber piping along its edge. Thin, appliqued white pleating radiated from the shallow crown. Sylvia, placed it on the rubbered and gas-masked head of her client with exaggerated care, tilting it at a rakish angle to impart a dramatic flourish.

The hat was very large, the brim being nearly 60 cm in diameter. The crown was just a shallow dome in the center, but a delicate curve had been applied to the brim to make it look always as if it were floating on a breeze.

It fit perfectly and snugly over the double layer of rubber enclosing Katherine’s head, Sylvia explained. “The band inside the crown has a slightly different composition from the rest of our latex. When pressed, it will adhere lightly to other rubber garments we make, but can be easily peeled away and repositioned, then pressed lightly to make it adhere. Your hat will not slip off, even in wind or rain.”

Katherine checked her appearance in the mirror once more. “Yes! It truly makes it work! God, I look bizarre, but … “

“Beautiful, yes!” Sylvia stood to behind her and smiled from deep inside her own rubber enclosure.

The two women looked into the mirror and stared at their reflection for a few moments. Two rubberised faces, one in white, one in black. A perfectly smooth white business suit seemingly sprayed on Katherine’s body, her black rubber neck legs and arms emerging from within. She tilted her white masked head slightly and the white hat tilted up, catching sunlight tat was pouring into the upper windows. Sylvia, her tall rigidly sealed rubber body still slightly taller than Katherine, looked over the newly encapsulated woman’s shoulder.

“You are indeed beautiful, my dear. Perfect for work, perfect for play!”

“I’d best be g-going,” Katherine stuttered slightly beneath the tight mask, her voice muffled by the elaborate latex covered breathing gear in front.

“Indeed! We’ll deliver everything to your door. Does your building have a concierge?”

“Yes. Whoever is on duty will get them into my flat.”

Moving away from the mirror to the door, the two women discovered that rain had begun to fall outside.

“Oh dear! You’ll be lucky to find a cab in this!”

Katherine was disconcerted for a moment, then brightened. “Is this not the perfect outfit for walking in the rain? I’ll go along until I can catch a cab. It’s really only a drizzle.”

“As you wish. It will certainly not damage your outfit,” Sylvia said with a smile. “Are you OK with being out in public in total rubber enclosure and restriction?”

“I’ve never done it before, but it’s not uncommon, is it? I should be fine.”

“Good girl! Just walk carefully as you’ve very little peripheral vision in that gas mask. But it is so stylish on you.”

“Thank you for everything, Sylvia. And you too, Sophie,” she called out.

“You are most welcome, miss,” came the disembodied voice of the armless rubber encased object at the back of the atelier. “Thank you for releasing us.”

Katherine stepped out and Sylvia closed the door to Atelier Sutcliffe behind her.

With an initial, slight hesitation, but then more and more certainly, the newly rubberised Katherine made her way, tiny step by spike heeled step, down the street, back toward her office. Her new sparkling white gas mask handbag dangled from the inner elbow of her slightly raised left arm, black gloved hand emerging from the tight sleeve of her contrasting jacket, deliberately exposing the elongated smoothness of her rubberised arm. The gold chains dangling from each sleeve served as a visual reminder that her arms could be bound at any time, locked together by the small gold padlocks serving now as mere jewelry.

The gold constraint chain, as Sylvia has named it, dangled from the waist cinching corset under her skirt to the cross chain permanently mounted between her white rubber ankle boots. It would have restricted her stride had it not been for the incredible tightness of her smooth white rubber skirt straining against her at every mincing step, confining her even more, forcing her into the ‘model’s walk’, her hips undulating beneath the shiny, slick rubber.

Katherine wobbled slightly at first, then became more secure as her pace slowed and she ceased fighting the resistant rubber confinement she was dressed in. Within two blocks she was comfortable in her pace, her wobble had transformed into a sensual undulation of hip and thigh, and she had begun to enjoy the deliberate mincing steps she had to take to make any progress. It would be a long but pleasant walk back to the office.

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16.05.14

story continued in part four

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