Gromet's PlazaLatex Stories

Please Keep Your Ticket With You

by Andy Latex

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© Copyright 2009 - Andy Latex - Used by permission

Storycodes: FF/f; latex; wrap; mum; encase; package; display; kidnap; nc; X

(Dedicated to all those sexy older women)


The beautiful young woman looked into the carriage, for a moment she clearly thought of entering, she looked at the sole occupant quizzically, a stunning woman with dark eyes and auburn hair, who wore a uniform and cradled a suitcase beside her, but there was no movement of greeting. The young woman, no more than 21, maybe even in her late teens, looked nervously about for a moment then to Jane’s relief she passed by.

Jane Fullerton-Jones had searched the entire train for an empty carriage, it was bad enough having to travel by train without having the bother of sharing, after all, that was why she had spent so much on a 1st class ticket.

It would be a long trip home, but she had earned her 2 weeks off. Jane looked down at the two gold rings on the cuff of her jacket, she smiled proudly. She had been 20 years as an air stewardess and now had finally been confirmed as senior cabin attendant.

20 years, she thought, not that she looked it or felt it, in fact she attributed her perfect figure, long toned legs, flat stomach and slim waist to her constant attention to her passengers, and if it were not for the faint tell-tale lines about her gorgeous dark brown eyes, she could pass for a woman half her age. She had smiled once more to herself, remembering her first day, ‘23 years old with the world to explore’.

She sat back and relaxed, peace and quiet had been all she wanted, peace and quiet, but now there was also another reason she wished to be alone. She smiled naughtily to herself and after a moment, slid her find out from under her case. She could guess why her mystery visitor had looked so nervous. It was a magazine the like of which she had never seen before.

It was one of those rubber fetish magazines, the cover bore the letters, F F F in bright red and gold and pictured a girl, or at least what she took for a girl, who was completely enclosed from crown to toe in a featureless, skin tight shiny red suit.

The caption beneath explained it all ‘RUBBER DOLLS’.

She stared down in astonishment, unsure if the image is real or not, after all in this digital age anything is possible. However any doubts are removed once she turned the cover, inside was a second image, like the first and under are the words, COVERGIRL, JULIA,

“God, That is so weird”, she thought dwelling on the words, not that a girl wearing rubber was weird, after all, a few years ago, she had squeezed herself into those really tight shiny PVC pants that were all the fashion, but this extreme fetish thing? No, there was something weird about it. Curious, Jane raised the magazine to look closer. The rubber suit fitted the girl perfectly, surely too perfectly, right down to the details about her face, her lips and eyes all were clearly moulded in the shiny red material. “Nah, that’s fake”, she whispered to no one, shook her head and smiled, “Real fake”.

She snapped out of her thoughts as, for a moment, a figure passed the door to the carriage, only to carry on down the train. Jane’s heart pounded, bloody hell, she thought, it was be so embarrassing to be caught looking at such a magazine, yet before her heart slowed, she could not help but return to turning the pages.

Words and images passed her eyes, then she found something that nearly made her gasp aloud.

‘VACUMN PACKED FOR TRANPORTATION’. It read and showed, what appeared to her, to be a girl wrapped up like a piece of supermarket meat, her superb body perfectly moulded inside a film of glossy transparent rubber, stretched within a rectangular frame, the only blemish being revealed in the close up of her beautiful face, where, about her nose, can be seen a fine pattern of tiny holes. Jane examined the image again, The picture looked real.

She flipped the page, only to instantly turn back; she stared for a moment and shifted in her seat. Very real.

Over the next page, she found more ‘fake’ pictures of the cover girl, sealed in her impossibly tight suit of red rubber. Each image showed her either, tied up with rope, or chain, or in one she appeared to be stretched out on a medieval rack. Jane turned the page once more, ‘That’s better’ she thought. It showed a collection of beautiful girls modelling rubber and PVC fashions, each outfit seeming to shine like glass as is stretched tightly about the models bodies. She stared at the picture for a long while, wondering to herself how they ever got into such tight outfits. She flicked once more and smiled. Under the banner CELEBWATCH was her favourite picture of Cheryl Cole in her skin-tight latex leggings, it was the one taken slightly from behind, which shows the latex moulding her perfect bum into polished globes. Beside it are a few of Paris Hilton, a few of girls she didn’t know and one of Kelly Brook in a pink rubber dress. She looked back at the picture of Cheryl Cole and for a moment dreamed of cupping the girls cute bum in her hands, she smiled to herself, ‘god’, she thought, ‘I’m old enough to be her mum’, (who said older women weren’t allowed to have a secret crush), she laughed and suddenly realised the train had stopped at a station.

She slid the magazine out of sight once more and prayed to be left alone. A few people passed by, one began to slide the door, her heart sank, but then once more it closed. She waited, then slowly the train moved off, she shifted once more, for a moment she thought of leaving the magazine where it is, but she knew she wanted to see more.

After a quick look down the corridor, Jane sat back and once more flicked the pages. She paused for a moment at Cheryl Cole, then found more fashion shots, a few ads for things she had never seen before and finally came to a stop at a collection of pictures which showed a stunning red head being, ‘forcibly’ wrapped from top to toe in creamy white rubber bandages. The pictures were really clear and showed the model acting more and more terrified as with each image she was tightly encased, until in the final shot she was left tightly mummified with only her terror filled eyes to be seen.

Strangely a shiver passed down Jane’s spine, there was something about these images, something in the idea of being so helplessly trapped. She quickly flipped the page and to her dismay found the images continues, only this time the girls’ tormentors seemed to be painting the latex with a clear glaze, sealing the bandages into on seamless cocoon. Jane’s stared, she felt her stomach knot. ‘The girl is totally helpless’, she thought, ‘God that’s horrible’.

To clear the image from her mind she swiftly flipped the page back, to Cheryl Cole, or where she used to be at least. For to her surprise she now found not the beautiful pop star in latex, but a piece of fiction. Confused, she flicked the pages again and to her astonishment found no pictures at all, only this one piece of work entitled ‘YOUR STORY’.

“The black car drifted anonymously through the busy city streets”, she read, “ no one paid any attention to its movements or to its 3 passengers, and why would they, none of them had witnessed anything strange. However if they had looked in they might have thought differently, two beautiful women sitting either side of a young woman, her face hidden beneath a polished latex hood. But no one looked, no one saw a thing and no one bothered when the car turned into the underground carpark of the chrome and glass tower…”

Jane turned the page and read another brief fragment,

“…. Steel and chrome, glass and marble, the lift rose through floor after floor each one the same as the last…”

Again she turned the pages, not really reading just scanning, the story was all description, Blah Blah Blah, she flickered a few pages on,

“…As they worked, the light reflected on the nurses green latex uniforms like sun on the ripples of a lake and soon the trembling girl was naked but for a pair of dangerously high heels, next her ankles were bound together and her arms tied down to her side…”

Jane shook her head, she had never liked bondage, it was that helplessness thing again and at her age she was too independently minded to imagine such a thing. She flicked a few more pages in a bored fashion

“…Once the catheter was in place…”

What? Jane stopped and looked back, unsure of what she had read,

“…Once the catheter was in place the nurses took care in sliding the wide plug gently up the girls lubricated bum, making her wriggle and writhe in their arms…”

Jane read it again,

“…Once the catheter was in place the nurses took care in sliding the wide plug gently up the girls lubricated bum, making her wriggle and writhe in their arms…”

‘God what goes on in some peoples heads’, she thought. Suddenly the train raced across the points and the magazine fell to the floor, Quickly she picked it up, it would be her luck that, that would be the moment a vicar or even a nun would walk in a catch her. She smiled at the idea and for a few minutes let the magazine rest under her case.

Another station came and went one more and she would have to make that rush over the bridge to get her connection.

She looked down, the edge of the magazine was poking out, ‘Alright she thought’, and slipped it out and were it had fallen the pages fell open. She scanned down the page and stopped. She took up the magazine and stared.

“…With her weight now taken by the cunningly designed collar she was swung out over the vat. She could feel the warm moist air rising to mingle with the sweat, which covered her body, the arm of warm rubber filing her head. There was a long pause, and then with a jolt she began to descend. Emma’s heart leapt into her throat. “Please no!” she gasped as she felt the heels of her shoes touch the surface of the liquid latex, the thick fluid momentarily resisted there progress before parting and drawing them in. The desperate girl felt her heart would burst from her chest as slowly she began to sink into the glossy black liquid. The rubber was warm, not hot and it clawed and flowed into every crease and dimple of her superb body, smothering, enveloping.

The terrified girl now began to plead with her unseen captors, “Please, I’m sorry, I made a mistake, please don’t do this to me!” but her decent was relentless, she wriggled and writhed but her progress could not be denied.

She felt the smooth liquid flow over the plain of her stomach then up to the swell of her breasts, which bobbed on the surface for a moment before swiftly being consumed. The black glaze then flowed up her chest and shoulders and finally settled about her neck.

For a moment the mechanism stopped, Emma, her head swimming with the rubber rich air, half begged and half prayed for release, but with a faint click her descent continued. “Oh God No!” she cried suddenly realising she was to be completely submerged, “No, No ple…” she took one last desperate gulp of air and closed her eyes, as the latex, warm and smooth covered her head and she slipped from sight.

For a moment the surface rippled, but swiftly it once more became still and mirror smooth and but for the ticking of the mechanism the chamber was still and silent, but within the vat, Emma cried out in terror, her lungs clinging on to there precious load.

Tick, tick, tick, seconds counted steady and true.

Tick, tick, tick, but within the latex they passed so slowly.

Tick, tick, tick, 20 seconds.

Tick, tick, tick, 40 seconds.

Tick, tick, tick, 50 seconds, 50 seconds, count them, and think of poor Annabelle.

Tick, tick, tick, 60 seconds.

Tick, tick CLICK Hummmm.

The winch moved, Emma felt herself move, her head pounded, she felt herself rising, she felt the surface tension of the latex stretch and part and her glistening black body slide through. She rose quicker than she had descend and once more the surface of the vat became still, it’s smoothness broken only by the sensual curl of excess latex rippling down her body like slow black treacle.

Sensing herself free of the cloying liquid the terrified girl forced her mouth open wide in search of the air her lungs so desperately needed, but the latex had already begun to dry and the thin membrane of simply stretched between her lips, denying her any mercy…”

Jane shifted in her seat and realised her heart was pounding. She looked out of the window for a second, clearing her head, but she quickly looked back.

“…It took a moment or two for the flow of latex to cease, but after what seemed like an eternity to the suffocating girl, the winch swung her away and lowered her until she felt her weight taken by her dagger like heels. Once settled, the arms which had connected to her collar quickly clicked free and whilst the still wet latex flowed to fill any blemish they had left a third chrome arm, tipped with a small cup lowered onto the top of her head to support her securely and silently upright.

Emma stretch now in her bonds, It had been minutes now, she could feel the blood in her ears pounding making her head fit to burst. Then suddenly it happened, her last breath exploded from her lungs and, for a moment, the latex sealing her mouth ballooned slightly, before snapping back forcing the stale air back into her body. Emma panicked now, her body tensed, her heart raced. She was going to die, she felt her head swim and drift. Then suddenly there was air, not much only a faint mist passing down her nose, but it was air and she drank it gladly down into her body and breathed.

Smoothly the arm retracted, taking with it the needles, which had formed the pattern of fine holes about her nostrils. With a hiss it settled into is cradle and with it a stillness settled over the chamber, the silence broken only by the faint sensual creak of latex stretching across the captive girls breast with each laboured breath.

For a while she remained still, drinking in as much air as she could, feeling the pounding in her head die away. Then nervously she slightly turned her shoulders, feeling the latex stretch with her, then she rotated her hips and bum, again the thin coating clung and creaked, then slowly she stretched her hand away from her body, moving it just clear of her thigh before it snapped back, sending ripples through her seamless latex coating . Her heart pounded, the realisation of her total helplessness, suddenly rushed around her head.

‘Oh god…they’ve …they’ve… mummified me, in Rubber!’

She let out a desperate cry, but to any one beyond the glistening latex prison is was little more than a pitiful moan.

But the chamber was not finished with Emma Knightley just yet.

Within her cocoon the girl was unaware of the twin curved panels which lowered around her. However in a few moments she was aware of the warmth coming from the hundreds of lamps the panels contained and as they slowly grew in intensity she became aware of there effect on her latex prison… It was shrinking! Tightening about her, moulding into every curve and detail of her body.

But this was no gradual sensual tightening, this was a near instant constriction that forced the air from Emma's lungs and a stream of terror induced pee to rush from the catheter pipe and pool at her feet.

Emma's breath came now in short sharp pants her…”

“This is Victoria, this is Victoria London, all change”.

Jane looked up; the train had already pulled in to the station. Knowing she only had a few minutes to make her cross city link, she grabbed up her case. For a moment she thought of putting the magazine in her coat, but stopped and told herself she did not really want it, after all she had found the story quite unsettling, so why bother. She looked at the cover again and tossed it under the seat and made for the exit. However at the door she stopped, stopped, thought and turned back. She looked at the magazine through the window, she should take it with her, what if a kid found it? No she had to take it. She took up the magazine, it had fallen open.

“…The second coat of glaze dried across Emma's mummified body, making it glisten wetly under the lights…”

Jane looked at her watch, and she would have time. She sat back down.

She flicked the pages, searching for where she had left it, she looked at her watch, she had time,

“…lowered into the tube…” she read, “…air feeds… the delivery label said Paris France…”

but as she flicked she could not find the exact spot. ‘I could read it on the other train,’ she thought, ‘but what if I’m not alone, I could wait till I got home, that could be hours,’ Once more she turned to her watch, ‘Maybe 5 minutes.’ She did not know why, but she knew she had to read and so flicked to the last page.

“…No I expect the documents signed this week”, she turned her pen in her well manicured fingers, “no those properties are very important to me, I… one minute I have another call”, she flicked the exchange with the tip of her pen. “Veronique Bellucci… Ah Caroline, hello my dear”, she rose elegantly from her desk, smoothed her skin-tight latex pencil skirt and strode atop needle like heels back into the grand entrance hall, “…yes she arrived his very morning…. No she is gorgeous”.

Once more she let her eyes drift over the stunning vision in the centre of he marble hallway, her blue eyes travelled over the polished surface taking in every feminine curve and angle, before lingering on each perfectly defined detail. The fingernails, the pert nipples, the cute navel and the soft down of her pubic nest…”

Jane felt her heart pounding, she glanced to her watch, but did not really see it.

“…She trailed one finger tip down the tightly mummified girls spine, letting it settle at the start of the valley which separated her buttocks into perfect twin globes. “ No I realised immediately she was from you by the exquisite gift-wrapping, I’ve never seen anything like it, so tight, I thought at first she was made of glass”. She watched the reflection of her hand as it drifted round her body and onto the flat of her stomach. “No not yet, I’ll keep her fresh until I have decided what to do with her and besides, I am having that dinner party tonight…. Yes that’s it and can you imagine a more striking centre piece for my table… no, no one will suspect, who would believe she were a real girl”, she looked closely into the motionless face, even the fine holes at her nose were barely visible, “she is just too perfect… “, she blew softly onto Emma's lips, “too perfect”.

She stepped back, admiring her immaculately made up face in the polished curve of the girls’ breast, “Now I hope you did not spend too much money, I know what you are like at these auctions…. Oh that is sweet of you honey, thank you, now don’t worry… oh bother! my other line is going crazy, Now don’t worry dear I promise I will let you know what I intend to do with her… oh you can guarantee that honey…. Bye Bye.

She drew a fingertip around Emmas perfectly moulded nipple feeling the girl within tremble at her touch, “Oh you can Guarantee that”, she purred.


For second Jane sat in shock, her heart was pounding and her mouth dry, she had found the story totally unsettling, even frightening yet, and she now felt strangely cheated of an ending. However she had no time to dwell on it, for with a bump the train began to move. Grabbing everything and including the magazine she ran for the exit, just stepping off as the train began to roll.

“Nearly”, the station porter said with a grin as Jane fell into him, the magazine falling to the floor. For a moment they both stared at it, she thought of denying ever seeing it before and walking away but with a glowing blush picked it up and stuffing it into her coat made for the gate.

As she watched the connecting train disappear down the line Jane cursed herself and the magazine under her breath. Now she was stuffed. How could she have let something so stupid mess up her plan. She sighed and turned towards the far exit and began weaving her way through the crowds of people and out to was she knew the taxi rank was. If she could get across town quick enough she might still have a chance.

The station forecourt was very busy.

“Could you take me to Charing Cross station please”, she said looking in through the window of the first cab, “ I’ve got to get there in a hurry”,

The cabby put his paper aside and waved her in.

“Excuse me, Jane Fullerton-Jones?”.

Jane turned to the tall smartly dressed man who had addressed her, he smiled warmly. “Yes”.

“Oh spot on, please your car is waiting, may I take your bag?” The mystery man picked up her case and directed her across the forecourt.

“Sorry, I…. Who are you”, she looked him up and down, placing her hand on her case, “I did not order a car?”.

“It was hired for your friend, Ms Brook to take you home Ms Fullerton-Jones”.

“But I was, going… I’m on the train”

The man smiled; “She said you were bound to miss your connection so she and the girls hired you a special car as way of congratulations for your promotion… Please?” he turned.

Jane smiled, “Oh how sweet”, she said, “that typical of Lucy, thank you”.

“Do you want me or not?” Jane turned it was the cabby, a frustrated look on his face.

“Oh no thank you, It seems I’ve got an upgrade”. She said with an almost excited giggle. “Thank you anyway”.

She followed the driver through the crowd and around the traffic. “How long have you been waiting”, she asked. She paused for a moment at one of the litter bins, took out the magazine and rolling it up opened the bin lid, it was locked, SECURITY SEALED, read the label, she looked at the magazine in her hand and smiled, “Looks like I’m stuck with you”, she sighed.

“Not long Miss, your friends gave me a very good description of you”. He said with a soft laugh.

Jane picked up her step to catch him up, “Oh yes, I bet, what was it?” She replied with mock anger, “Hard faced task master, easy to spot”.

“No, no miss. They said, she will be the most beautiful woman on the forecourt”, he looked her in the eyes, “Easy”, Jane felt her stomach flutter and could not help but smile, “Ah here we are”, He approached the black stretch Mercedes, unlocking with a flick of the remote.

“What’s your name?” she asked, with a smile. As he opened door for her.

“Rubber, Miss”.

Jane stopped short, “I’m sorry, did… did you say Rubber?”

The man looked sideways at her and grinned.

The flutter in Jane’s stomach suddenly turned into a knot, she looked at the black car, then at the driver, her mind raced, recalling the opening lines of the story, she shook her head, dispelling the silly thoughts.

“No Miss, Rubier, It is French, I am from Paris”.

She stopped and for along moment looked at him and then stepped back, this was crazy, insane, but that feeling in her stomach was too strong to ignore, the one that says turn left and not right.

“Please miss”, the man said, gesturing her to step into the black car, “We must hurry”.

Her heart pounding, Jane slowly picked up her case and with her eyes fixed on him, began to back away. “No”, she said, “I…. I’ll get a cab…. Thank you”, she said.

“But Miss Fullerton-jones, everything is prepared, you must come”.

“No, no thank you, I’d be happier on the train”. She glanced behind her and waved for the passing cab to stop. It pulled in at her back.

“Where to Miss?”. The driver asked.

“Charing Cross”, Jane said and with her eyes still on the mystery man she stepped backwards into the cab.

The black cab pulled away and as it did she saw the man slip a phone from his pocket.

“Are you OK Miss” the cabby asked, “You look a bit flustered, that bloke not trying it on was he?”

Jane shook her head, “No, no thank you, I’m fine”. She slumped back in the seat, her heart racing ten to the dozen.

For the next 5 minutes the cab made its way, stopping and starting, through the rush hour traffic and in that time Jane’s’ heart began to slow, her mind cleared and she cursed herself once more, for becoming so stupid over a silly story. The looked from the window as the streets rolled by and was just relaxing when her mobile phone went off making her start. She fumbled in her coat; her hand brushing over the magazine which still occupied the inside pocket. She flipped the phone case. NO NUMBER. The screen read, slowly she opened it. “Hello?”.

“Jane where are you now”.

“Who is this?”.

“Its me you silly bimbo, Lucy”,

Jane sighed, “Lucy, oh Lucy its not your number, I’m sorry”.

“No it’s gone all weird again, can you hear me? over”.

“Yes yes of cause I can, I’m in a black cab,” Jane paused and took a breath, “Lucy? Did you…”

“Yes I did order you that car, I’ve just had Rubier on the phone, said you had a freak out or something”.

Jane laughed almost hysterical with relief, “ No, no I’m fine, it was nothing, I’m sorry I messed it up it was real kind of you,”

“Oh no, You don’t get off that easy girl, he was not cheap, so I told him to meet you at Charing and he’ll take you from there and…”

Jane shook her phone. “Hello, Hello?” she flipped the case and slid it back into her coat, her hand coming to rest on the magazine, she laughed to herself. “Do you mind it I put something in your bin here?” she asked

“No love, that’s what its for”, the driver said in a light tone, but as he saw her take the magazine from her pocket he quickly added, “Sorry love, please keep your ticket with you”.

Jane looked at him, “Sorry?”

“Your ticket love, they will need it”,

At that moment the cab door opened and to Jane’s surprise two tall women stepped in. The first sat opposite her and the other to her side. “Excuse me, this cab is taken”, she said, but the women, both dressed in chic and classic business suits, made no move to exit and the cab moved on. “Cabby?, stop here please, let these ladies…”

“You have your ticket”. The woman opposite her asked her voice low and calm.

“What do you mean?” Jane’s eyes danced from woman to woman

“You have your Ticket.” The woman said again, stretching out her hand.

Jane looked down at the magazine hanging limply in her hand. “It’s not mine”, she said offering it to the woman. “I found it”.

“Thank you”, she said, opening it, “You have read this”.

“Wh.. What do you mean?”

“You have read it?”

Jane felt her heart begin to pound, she shifted back in her seat, “ Ye…yes, but like I said it’s not mine I found it, on the train”.

“Of course you did, Miss Kinghtley, those were your instructions”.

“No no I really found it, it was…” Jane stopped, her heart leapt into her throat, “…Miss Knightley? Miss, what’s it?, Emma… Emma Knightley… the story!..”.

“I trust you are happy with how your journey will begin and I hope the continuation will forfill your desires and may I thank you for booking your fantasy gap year with, Fetish Fantasy Forfillment.”

“No…No!” Jane literally backed up onto the seat, pressing herself into the back of the cab.

“John, take us to the tower please”. The black cab turned off the main road.

“No no” Jane screamed, as the women drew closer, “you're wrong, you're wrong, I’m … NOT!” For an instant Jane saw the gleam of polished latex flash before her eyes, but before she could react her beautiful face and auburn hair had vanished into the skin tight hood, its lubricated interior allowing it to slide smoothing into place, blindfolding and gagging her in one fluid movement.

The black car drifted anonymously through the busy city streets, no one paid any attention to its movements or to its 3 passengers, and why would they, none of them had witnessed anything strange. However if they had looked in they might have thought differently, two beautiful women sitting either side of a young woman, her face hidden beneath a polished latex hood. But no one looked, no one saw a thing and no one bothered when the car turned into the underground car-park of the chrome and glass tower.

No one that was, but for the beauty in the hood, the beauty, who in her near muted and darkened world, silently screamed at the fate she knew was about to befall her.

(I have many ideas for other stories, but if anyone would like to readmore of poor Jane’s adventures please E.mail me and let me know. Thanks).

Andy Latex now has his own weblog:


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