Gromet's PlazaLatex Stories

Latex Reunion

by The Texan

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© Copyright 2013 - The Texan - Used by permission

Storycodes: Solo-F; latex; catheter; inserts; shorts; stockings; corset; heels; thighcuffs; hobble; skirt; bdsm; cons; X

Abstract: Kristin and Angie met in college, got deeply in to a fetishistic lesbian relationship, then parted when they graduated. Now, several years later, they plan a reunion in New York City where Kristin becomes the willing victim of Angie's endless sadism.

Chapter 1: Preparation

Kristin had been shopping for weeks to find just the right items for the night she was to get together with an old girlfriend from college. Over the few years since their graduation, they had been in touch via E-Mail, and found the sexual interest they had in each other during college intensifying over time. They were both gorgeous young women, Kristin a 24 year-old blonde with a banking job, and her friend Angie a 26 year old PhD student with long brown hair.

During college, the girls met at an alternative sexuality club meeting, where they discovered a mutual interest in sadomasochism and fetishism. Through the rest of their time together in college, they experimented on and off with their interests, developing into a pair of relatively advanced players. When Kristin left for her new job, the two cried for hours together, promising to get back together some day. Their close relationship endured the distance between the two girls, and they finally got an opportunity to meet in New York.

Angie, always the dominant, simply gave Kristin an address and a time to be there, along with a lengthy list of clothing and equipment she was to wear/bring to the meeting. When the time came, Kristin sat down on the edge of the bed in her New York hotel room, took a deep breath, and began to dress herself for the occasion. As Kristin snapped the latches open on her suitcase and eased it open, a strong smell of leather and latex wafted up to her nostrils. Kristin breathed deeply, tension deep within her building as the scent reminded her of the many nights she spent with Angie in college.

With a shake of her head, Kristin jerked herself out of her memories and began to get dressed. She quickly shed her street clothes, neatly piling them on the bed. From the open suitcase, she drew a container of talcum powder and proceeded to apply it liberally to her body from the waist down. Once her lower body was covered, she reached into the suitcase and withdrew her shorts. They were custom-made for her body, and had features that would make most women cringe. The shorts were styled like bicycle shorts, made entirely of gleaming black latex. Compared with most latex undergarments, they were rather thick, and Kristin knew from experience that they would be difficult to put on as a result.

The most remarkable feature of the shorts, however, was the crotch area. Instead of smooth black latex, the crotch featured two six inch long cylinders of extremely stiff rubber molded into the shorts. The cylinders extended about four inches on the inside and two on the outside. The front cylinder was about two inches in diameter, while the rear was only about an inch and a half. Both featured fat rubber plugs jammed into the outside end to prevent any accidental leakage from the wearer. Between the cylinders hung a six-inch long rubber tube on the outside of the shorts. The inside section was a stiff, fat plastic catheter. A gleaming steel clamp held the outside tube firmly closed for the same reason as the plugs in the cylinders.

Steadying herself, Kristin pulled the shorts up to her crotch, the heavy latex squeezing her thighs firmly as they came into position. Wasting no time, Kristin laid down on the floor beside her bed, putting her feet up on the bed as widely spread as she could. Now in the proper position, she reached down between her legs and began guiding the end of the long catheter toward her urethra. As she pressed it into herself, her face contorted with pain, spurring her on to finish the insertion. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as she pushed the fat catheter past her straining sphincter and deep into her bladder.

Tears ran from her eyes as she lay on the floor, holding the catheter in so that it would not be pulled out and force her to endure the pain of insertion all over again. With new resolve, Kristin twisted her body so that her other hand could reach her crotch while the other held the catheter. She went through nearly the same ordeal inserting the rectal cylinder, and nearly cried with relief at the relative ease of inserting the vaginal one.

Very carefully, so as not to let the heavy latex of the shorts at her thighs to pull the three intruders out of her body, Kristin grasped the thick waistband of her shorts and began pulling them over her hips. She had to use both hands, lifting her body off of the floor between her shoulders which rested on the floor and her calves on the edge of the bed.

With a tremendous effort, Kristin got the waistband over her hips. It snapped over her navel rather painfully as the shorts were pulled tight, driving a sharp squeal out of Kristin's open mouth as the intruders were drawn still further into her body.

Exhausted for the moment, Kristin moved her legs off the bed and lay spreadeagled on the carpet, catching her breath. After a few minutes, her body began to acclimate itself to the foreign objects which penetrated her, and Kristin hesitantly drew herself up to her knees. A moan escaped her as she brought her legs closer together, increasing the pressure on the three tubes which violated her most intimate openings. Cautiously, she rose to her feet and took a few trial steps, finding that she could walk with the shorts on. Watching herself in the mirror as she strode around the room, she could see plainly that the shorts changed her gait, making her sway her hips rather seductively as she tried to walk without ever bringing her legs close together.

Finally at ease with her shorts, Kristin turned to the task of clothing the rest of her lower body. From her suitcase she drew a pair of heavy black latex stockings. She lowered herself onto the edge of the bed, whimpering as the act of sitting drove the intruders still deeper into her. Moving slowly and deliberately, Kristin forced one leg and then the other into the heavy rubber stockings, tucking them in under the tight legs of her shorts to insure that they could not roll down. Her body was now sheathed in solid, glistening black rubber from the waist down, but Kristin knew that she was still a long way from being finished.

Reaching into her suitcase once again, Kristin took out her boots. They were custom-made for her, with four inch spiked heels, pointed toes, and uppers made of extremely heavy latex. Kristin carefully forced her feet into the boots, then began to pull up the zippers that ran up the inside of her calves to just under her knees. The zippers were extremely hard to pull up, as the shafts of the boots were deliberately too narrow for her ankles and calves. To get the boots on, Kristin had to stretch the stiff latex a bit (which required tremendous force). As the zippers rose one by one, Kristin felt a sensual tingle as her legs were squeezed by the viselike shafts of her rubber boots.

Once her boots were in place, Kristin had only a couple of items left for her lower body. The first was a steel contraption which consisted of two largish steel bands joined by a four-inch long steel shaft. The bands were each split into two sections, and were somewhat smaller than the diameter of her lower thighs just above the knee. Placing the open manacles over her gleaming thighs, Kristin closed them tightly, each side closing with a metallic click. They were rather painful, given their unyielding, viselike grip. Kristin knew, however, that the hobble could not be removed without a key that only Angie posessed.

To finish the dressing of her lower body, Kristin took a knee-length rubber skirt from her suitcase and began the laborious process of getting it over her boots and up her legs with the strict bondage of her steel thigh hobble. She finally succeeded, and pulled the skirt up to her waist, effectively concealing the steel binding her thighs. Kristin then stood up on her towering heels, and took a couple of uncertain steps.

The combination of high heels, the thigh hobble, and the fat tubes in her crotch made it extremely difficult for Kristin to take steps more than a few inches long. To even achieve an eight inch stride, she had to rotate her hips, causing the fat cylinder in her rectum to twist uncomfortably. Kristin spent the next few minutes learning to walk again in her new outfit, and finally returned to the bed to dress her upper body.

The first and most challenging item was a long, black rubber corset. It was designed to fit all the way down around her hips, narrow sharply at the waist, then reach up to cup her breasts and fit behind her shoulders. Perhaps the worst features of the corset, besides the rediculously small waist, were a pair of steel pegs that were welded to the side busks under the rubber surface and rose up to sit precisely at the center of Kristin's armpits.

Kristin picked the garment up, surprised as usual by its tremendous weight. Unlike traditional corsets, this one was made to be a bondage device rather than a figure training aid. Instead of thin bone or nylon boning, Kristin's corset featured quarter-inch thick, inch wide steel boning. The corset had to weigh 50 pounds, and was totally inflexible when properly laced.

Kristin laid out the heavy thing on the floor, lacing down. She then lay down on her back on it, feeling the stiff boning press uncomfortable against her back. She wiggled herself around until her body was properly positioned, then pulled the heavy sides up over her body. She closed the busk and lay there for a moment, the untightened pressure of the boning on her chest already making breathing a bit harder. Careful not to twist her hips any more than necessary, Kristin rolled over onto her face and reached behind her back to begin tightening the laces of her corset.

The process took nearly an hour, but when Kristin tied a final knot in the laces and tucked them into the top of the corset, the edges met perfectly in a line over her hidden spine. Her waist was constricted about six inches, and her spine was held perfectly rigid. Kristin knew she would have trouble getting up with it on, but managed to haul herself onto the bed with the help of her arms. From there, she managed to struggle onto her feet, the tremendous weight of her corset making it a job just to keep her balance.

With only a few items left to go, Kristin's thoughts turned once again to what might happen to her when she went to meet Angie. Wild ideas rolled through her mind as she took a couple of wobbly steps back to her suitcase. The gloves came next, and were what one would expect with the rest of Kristin's outfit. They were heavy guage black latex opera gloves, custom molded to that they would fit perfectly. It took only a few minutes for Kristin to struggle into them. Once they were both on, everything but her head and shoulders was encased in a liquid-smooth layer of black latex. Kristin looked at herself in the mirror and moaned, excited by her own image.

Finally, she took out her shirt, overcoat, and a small wooden box. The shirt was a heavy cotton white dress blouse, sharply pressed, with a wide collar and french cuffs. Rather awkwardly because of her inflexible spine, Kristin picked the shirt up and pulled it over her, fastening the lower three buttons in front and fastening the diamond links at her cuffs. With some difficulty, she tucked the tail of her blouse into the top of her rubber skirt, smoothing it out under the gleaming latex surface so as to keep the image of her hips and ass perfect under the gleaming surface of her skirt.

Nearly finished, Kristin tugged the starched white cuffs of her blouse down over her shiny black rubber wrists and opened the wooden box. Within it were a pair of black rubber balls, each about the size of a racquetball. They were both very heavy, having steel cores, and were covered with tall hard rubber bumps. A hole ran halfway in to both balls, the perfect size to fit over the metal studs in Kristin's armpits. She raised one arm high above her head and slid one rubber hand around her corseted bosom to push one of the balls down onto the stud. After repeating the proceedure for the other side, Kristin buttoned her blouse to the neck and walked to the mirror.

Kristin gazed into her mirror, smiling with pride at her appearance. She was clad in glistening black rubber from head to toe, the thigh hobbles, armpit balls, and diabolical tubes that restricted and violated her invisible to a casual onlooker. Bracing herself, Kristin let her arms down slowly, the bumpy, firm rubber balls seating firmly in her armpits. As Kristin let her arms down, the balls became increasingly uncomfortable, until Kristin had to stop moving them down, her elbows about four inches from her corseted sides. Angie shuddered as she thought of Angie's fetish for handcuffs and how painful it would be if Angie were to put a pair on her with the armpit balls in place. In the back of her mind, Kristin was sure she would.

With some difficulty, Kristin struggled into the long, heavy black leather trenchcoat she had brought to finish her outfit and help her fit in on the street. She tied the waistbelt tight around her tiny waist and took a pair of unlined leather 8-button gloves from the pockets of her coat, pulling them on over her latex hands. After carefully tucking the leather gloves under the cuffs of her blouse, she took one final look at herself in the mirror. She was quite normal looking, her trenchcoat covering most of her body, with the only break in her black outfit the pure white of her collar and cuffs peeking out of her coat.

Wasting no time, Kristin picked up her overnight bag stuffed with the accessories Angie insisted that she bring, and walked out of the hotel room, every hobbled step in her high heels twisting the invaders in her crotch.

To be continued....


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