© Copyright 2017 - Katja The Toy - Used by permission
Storycodes: Solo-F; latex; stockings; garterbelt; gloves; corset; gloves; breasts; jiggle; shirt; skirt; hobble; heels; toys; mast; denial; public; hum; bus; passengers; cons; X
1: READY, SET, SQUEAK!
Getting Ready - And Nervous
In her scientific studies on finding if one can really overdose on orga-- Ehh. The passing days had gone by like molasses flow down the tree trunk: you wait for it to happen but get bored to watch. Katja has managed, surprisingly, somewhat keep up with her exercise schedule, visiting the gym and with the spring weather advancing, even prepping up her bicycle and going out for long rides. On Friday she had an earlier scheduled meeting for a “real” job in another software house and being the responsible person she did go and try her best - resulting with the usual “don’t call us, we’ll call you.” Finding a paying job would be vital in every way but seems the financial situation isn’t what it should be.
Already on Sunday evening Katja spent hours on deciding what to wear for her appointment with Mistress Emma - she kept rolling the word “Mistress” on her tongue and found muttering it felt rather arousing - and decided she should try to look her best for the part so she decided against “normal” clothes but ended up gathering together her latex wardrobe and matching up an outfit that would make an impression but still be decent if maybe a bit racy in public view.
On Monday morning, after a nutritious breakfast, shower, slutty makeup and donning her dark, thick hair high up Katja inspects her choices for the day and proceeds to dress up. First, a transparent latex garter belt with six suspenders and transparent latex stockings with a mesh pattern, then her black ½-cup push-up latex bra, heavily boned underneath. This is her best latex bra when it comes to providing support but being slightly undersized, her nipples have a tendency to escape the confines of the thick rubber cup, especially if she ends up moving too much. But she wants to look her best - and in this case, bring her already poky boobs forward and up instead of trying to hide them with something with a more flattening effect.
To further enhance her unproportioned looks she grabs one of her favourite acquisitions, a thick, heavily boned rubber corset that despite being just a netsite order, actually manages to squeeze 10-12 cm off of her already rather slender 65 cm waistline. She found the corset from a site that offered a) a really stiff and sturdy design, using 5 mm thick rubber and steel stays in the corset and b) tailoring on the main measurements free of charge, giving her an opportunity to get the corset fitted to a bit stricter design than standard measurements would allow.
Katja closes the front busk then proceeds to tug and fiddle with the laces at the back and after the usual groaning and grumping - former being herself and latter the rubbery corset, manages to close the gap almost completely. Next 10 minutes she just sits still on the high chair, pulling on her wrist-length black latex gloves while allowing herself to adapt to the strict, unyielding shape of the contraption. Katja has always kind of fancied the idea of being forced to submit to some sort of shape-altering and restrictive device, instead of making things adapt to her. Professor Freud would surely find a lot to comment on this trail of thought…
The confining pressure around the torso makes Katja feel hot, in all meanings of the word and unconsciously her latex fingers travel down the slick surface of the corset and between her thighs, clad in the latex stockings, straight on her bare pussy - for the extra raunchy feel she has decided to go commando underneath - and before she can tell she is masturbating with her legs spread shamelessly wide and grinding her hips against her own fingers the little the rigid corset allows her to move. When she starts to feel the pressure build up inside her all too rapidly some lonely brain cell decides to jolt up from the pre-orgasmic, all-blurring, accelerating buzz in her head and remind her about the coming meeting. Jesus Kitesurfing Christ, she needs to get back to dressing up!
Feeling uncomfortably hot and flustered, Katja grabs the next item with her now trembling and clumsy hands, the button-up collared shirt made from black transparent latex. When ordering the shirt she had picked a size more fitting to her waist than her boobs - the bust measurements weren’t adequate to begin with and she had already learned on her previous purchases that thin latex stretches almost endlessly. Except with the shirt the limit was about at the size of her bust but she was still just about able to snap the buttons shut, that was all she needed.
Her tits are stretching the shirt into a shiny, almost wrinkle-free rack of human mammaries. The tight fit helps a bit to keep the boobs in the cups of the bra - except now they are both poking out through the thin latex like trying to penetrate the shiny layer. Katja carefully snaps open two buttons, eases the self-willed organs back to their compartments and feels her arousal just arising while groping her own boobs. Her level of excitement is starting to take it’s toll and Katja finds it difficult to concentrate on snapping the buttons back shut and then attaching the included latex tie under the collar. Red-faced, hot and puffing for oxygen she tries to steer her attention to the next item of clothing, the skirt.
Katja owns a couple of latex dresses and three skirts - one that is more a mud flap than a skirt, the hem barely reaching below the waterline, another one ankle length and so narrow she can only take 5-10 cm steps when wearing it, both obviously not the best option for strolling on the street in public view. That leaves her third skirt, a knee length, elegant creamy-coloured slightly thicker rubber skirt that also is very tight all the way down to the hem but at least leaves her calves the freedom of movement. The high waistline and the colour give the skirt a more fashionable look which will also work in Katja’s benefit, or so she keeps convincing herself at least. Dressing up then again is anything but elegant and fashionable, fighting the less stretchy rubber over her curvy thighs and ass is more like a work-out and all the wiggling just sends her deeper into the bottomless sea of arousal. The shine and lubricant gel she applied on her stockings helps the sticky fabrics to slide but it does very little to help her round, lusciously formed rear to fit into the squeaking tight skirt.
Finally the waistline clears over the hilly terrain and Katja can tug the short shirt hem under the waist of the skirt and then pull the short zip at the back shut. Even with her strictly corseted shape the skirt waist fits almost skin-tight, giving an impression of a lady with unnaturally curvy figure. To finalize the look, Katja wraps a 10 cm wide black pvc belt around her tiny waist, over the skirt top and tightens the wide buckle so the belt sits snug just above her sharply contoured waistline, on the conically formed upper torso.
Looking down, Katja can see her choice of footwear sitting neatly on the floor. Thinking it back now, it would have been a smart decision to crouch down for them before wiggling herself in this restrictive rubber tube called “a skirt”. Fearing she won’t have stamina for redressing Katja just supports herself from the table and carefully aims her feet into shoes one by one. To make an impression, she chose her highest Mary Janes, a 3 cm platform and a 16 cm wedge heel and with a wide strap around the ankle. For her size 36 feet the 13 cm heel rise is starting to be on the limit and especially with the hobbling effect of the skirt she will have her work cut out for her with her footing and balance. Well, you have to suffer for the beauty, no?
Katja manages to squeeze her left foot in the shoe but when aiming the right foot in, she wobbles, unaccustomed to the towering heights of the heel and manages to kick the right shoe down.
“Oh… for fffucksssh sake…”
Arousal, frustration and the impatience caused by the former two are starting to get to her finally. The skirt squeezes and hugs her hips snugly, making it feel like her pussy is cooking in its own juices, glowing red in heat and making her feel very flustered and distressed under the pressure of her ever growing arousal. This is not going the way Katja planned it!
Collecting the remains of her patience Katja manages to hook her right big toe on to the heel cup of the shoe and slowly pull the shoe back up, balancing it unstably on the wedge heel. Supporting herself on the table and chair back she manages to slip her foot on the shoe, then carefully proceeds to lower herself sitting down to buckle the ankle straps, which are there not just for the looks but also for the support while walking as she had discovered when she first tried them on.
She has to fidget with the straps with one hand at the time since reaching down on one side with both hands is not doable with her restrictive clothing but with trial and error Katja manages to buckle the shoes tight. She stands back up for the final touch, her biker jacket, made from thick rubber. Like the corset, the jacket was available with customized measurements so she was able to order one that would somewhat fit over her lewd bust but also close snug and tight over her corset - at the time she had thought even thicker rubber would stretch to fit her uncorseted waistline but it had turned out the 5 mm thick jacket has barely any stretch. Discovering this Katja first felt bummed but then realized this was what she would fancy after all - to properly wear her posh jacket, she would be required to cram her figure into the shape-sculpting vice.
Katja pulls the zip up all the way to the collar flaps, leaving them open to reveal the creamy-coloured tie bursting out from the V-shaped neckline, pushed by the you-know-whats from under. Finally clothed for her meeting, she turns to face the big mirror in the hallway and right away is stunned by the figure that stares back at her.
“Holy hookers, Batman…”
Katja never thought the combination would look this smashing - at the same time she’s totally suited for the office but at the same time like a latex doll from her own fetish dreams! She can’t help but let her gloved hands slide over her tightly packed figure; the latex squeaks and snaps while resisting the hand movement, even when properly shined. Most latex sellers offer chlorination these days as an option, for easy dress-up and no stickyness but Katja prefers her latex awkwardly sticky, squeaky and smelly - why else would you suffer the plight of cocooning yourself to a tight package like this?
Unconsciously Katja reaches for her groin area, trying to touch herself but the tight, bouncy rubber of the skirt won’t let her close enough, leaving her unsatisfied and impatiently lusting for more. She can tell this is going to be a looong day, sealed in tight latex, her frustration growing into uncontrollable proportions. Yeah, sounds like she really planned this all through nicely. Well done, you pervert!
The Streetcar of Desire
Trying to push the dangerously active itch at her groins to the background Katja checks the time on her big wall clock and realises she needs to start heading out the door if she wants to catch the bus - it won’t take her directly to the Palace of Perverts (why didn’t they call it just that, instead of that cheap-sounding “House of Lust”!?) but she needs to change once on her way but in her present condition it would still be a better option than driving herself. Aroused and hobbled by her clothing, she would most likely cause an accident.
Katja picks up her rubber handbag, stuffing it with her personal belongings, make-up and out of a whim grabbing from the side table her huge silicone dildo she played with last night. The dildo is way too big for her pussy but extremely fun for teasing herself with, forcing the fat tip between her pussy lips and moving it up and down and-- Oh dear. Also, the switch at the base turns on a motor that makes the curvy thing gyrate and jolt unsteady around - based on a slightly thinner but otherwise similar device she has, Katja can tell the gyrations are way too strong to resist and an erupting orgasm is an unavoidable physical constant. She has absolutely no idea why she finds it necessary to cram the big cock in with her other belongings, but she does it anyway, making the slim bag bulge noticeably.
With the heavy bag now on her shoulder she turns to the door and almost trips on the first steps when her latex-covered calves snap together. Katja finds her balance and reminds herself how challenging it is to walk in a hobbling skirt and latex stockings. She can’t really part her knees too much so they just scrunch against each other on each step when she tries to swing her foot forward. The skirt and corset together force her stride into a comical mince where she has to lift her hip in order to move her foot and for counter-balance, tilt her rigid upper body to compensate the hip-swag. Not to mention how slow she can only go with her short steps. On every step her jutting boobs bounce rhythmically and the nipples jitter their way out of the confines of the cups.
Katja squeaks her way to the front door, takes a dee-- no, make that a shallow breath making the corset also grump and steps out to the small porch. She feels humiliatingly exposed, slutty and unnecessarily aroused. Looking down, she can see her hardened nipples poking visibly under the thin latex, trying to penetrate the see-through layer. Every step makes her pussy make a grinding movement, even though not in direct contact with latex since she decided to go commando but she can feel the stimulating pressure around the groin area, making her pant and gasp like she had just finished a marathon run. Realizing she’s soon running late Katja concentrates on scissoring her way out to the driveway, then on the street to make it to the bus stop in time. When she finally reaches there she feels hot and flustered, her face glowing red from all the heat building up inside her. She has barely time to try and squeeze her nipples back into the bra and fish out her travel pass with her shaky fingers when the bus already arrives.
While stepping into the coach Katja sends a silent prayer to the City Traffic Department for some years back changing into low-floor busses - climbing the traditional stairwell in the skirt and heels would have been if not impossible but at least a comical performance for the other passengers. Hm if not City Traffic, then it’s The Ministry of Silly Walks… Check.
Not that she is any less of a performance number for the public as is, after Katja has paid the bus driver decides to step on it and she has to hang in the vertical hand rails for her dear life. A swift turn at the crossing tilts her sideways, almost off her teetering heels and she tries to make it look like she was actually going to lean nonchalantly against the pole but ends up rotating threateningly off the pole and almost to the lap of an elderly lady, staring scared and wide-eyed at the approaching rubber bumper of juggernautical boobs but Katja manages to grab the next handrail just in time to stop the catastrophe from happening.
The lady is still too stunned to talk but just ogles at the grumping and snapping rubber creature that by now stinks like a used condom, like thinking ‘that thing can talk?’ Katja feels her ears glow red when she tippy-toes her way further back, now the bus on a straight stretch of road she has time to find a seat for her, feeling the eyes of the other passengers burn on her exaggerated, constrained curves. Katja swings her round latex ass onto the seat then has to help her hampered lower body in with her hands. Sitting on her tightly confined derriere does nothing to soothe her down, instead she can now feel the pressure build in her loins, enhanced by the bus rolling over the sharp frost damages, hitting her with the hard seat straight into the problem zone.
On the other hand Katja is happy to be able to get off the heels for a while, even though she loves wearing high heels she hasn’t yet had that much training on daily wear - need to add that on the ToDo-list… By now it’s almost as long as Pink Panther’s ToDo-list; to-do,to-do, to-do to-do to-do-- Ehhh. She tries to hunt for shoes that are as high as possible but still wearable and walkable, these Mary Janes were expensive but the high arch is oh so delicious and actually if not comfortable then at least well manageable to stand on. But to actually walk in contraptions like these on city streets, that’s a whole different ball game.
The rest of the trip goes without major cockups, Katja struggles out of the bus, then onto another, under surveillance of curious bystanders, feeling hotter and hornier by the minute. Stepping out of the second bus into a stop with no pavement makes her almost tip over because of the higher step and she’s still hanging in the rail for balance when the driver pushes the button and Katja can hear the pneumatic cylinder hiss and the doors starting to close. Still wobbly on her heels but afraid of being dragged away by the bus she manages to mince further away from the roaring engine leaving to the traffic. God was that driver eager to get rid of his rubber doll passenger! Suddenly she’s standing all alone at the side of the quiet road.
The entrance to the House of… Fucking Perverts is only 200 metres away but for Katja it takes an eternity, both figuratively and in the actual meaning. Her swiveling walk is agonisingly slow and also her mind is rushing to all kinds of conclusions, should she really or should she not? At the gate an invisible force seems to pull her inside the meticulously restored old brick walls, at least she is out of the public eye for now. Thinking about the meeting makes her feel downright horny and lewd, almost unable to control the arising heat inside her. She can feel not only sweat pouring down her thighs, her pussy is pulsing and clearly she can feel her groin being wet from her own juices. She is almost certain people at the bus were able to smell her odours and that’s why a few of them ogled her rather suspiciously.
The building itself seems huge looking this close - 4 floors and probably at least one underground and another at the attic, stucco walls and and design language of centuries gone by in the ornaments and large windows at the first floor. Katja remembers the building as a run-down skeleton of a house, sprayed with graffiti and all the figurative details destroyed. But now, it looks like walking back in history, with huge ornaments at the low masoned walls leading to the main entrance.
Nearing the pompous entrance with massive decorative pillars and all makes her almost regret she didn’t dress in her normal clothes today but surprising even herself she has to admit she enjoys the feeling of being blatantly and shamelessly dressed like a fetish doll and quite obviously too horny to hide it from the public eye. And she has come this far so backing down now would mean cancelling it all together and that is not an option any more!
Almost silently the huge oak doors hiss open and Katja minces into the marble foyer.
“Wewwcohme, Whihh! Way thih doww hewp Whihh?”
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