Wednesday, March 23, 2016

caption this and if really creative .... write a story

whats happened, whats about to happen? does she want it to happen - you know the questions we all want to know. feel free to realise your own fetishes and deep desires via the image.



Unknown said...


Mona was...well, she was frankly tired of her life. Done with being "that middle-aged chick" nobody really knew, that nobody really talked to beyond trivial chit-chat, simply because people got it that she was rather old to be stuck in the same old job and life that she had as a grad student ten years ago. Stuck paying down her loans one over-priced cup of cappuccino at a time, stuck in the same old efficiency apartment, sharing a bathroom with random half-roommate after half-roommate...

She needed a vacation from being herself. She needed a reason to not be sad, serious, lonely old Mona. Especially the old part.

Which is where the odd bodysuit and mask and wig, left in the shared bathroom, came into play. Her ex-neighbor was one of those weird ones always taking way too long in the shower, using too much hot water....and she ended up leaving entirely one weekend, just abandoning everything in a lurch. If Mona hadn't had a well-written clause or two in her lease she would have been so screwed on rent...

But the suit was one of those things. A borderline pink shade of beige, just sort of too shiny to pass for human, same with the shiny blonde wig, same with the near-cartoonish mask. It was a ridiculous thing, clearly meant more for giggles than anything.

So why did Mona need to dress up every weekend now? It was odd. At first she thought the mask and suit were powdered with drugs because her face would go numb, briefly, leaving her head feeling hollow and empty for a few minutes every time she put it on. But then she'd relax and feel better about being...well, she settled for the name Molly as a joke, a play on the whole situation, but it worked.

The longer she got into it, the better it worked. Each passing week, she noticed the suit's getting tighter less and less, her face and head, being numb and plastic-feeling, inside and under the mask, less and less....

Until one weekend, 13 weeks in, the zipper jammed, leaving her stuck in the suit. This was a serious problem because the suit was majorly tight now, she could hardly reach the zipper properly anyway, had problems making her hands work for anything but simple tasks, had problems not being on tiptoes...and some of the powder went down her throat, too, leaving her mute briefly, and then, after swallowing hard twice, with a VERY breathy, squeaky doll voice, high-pitched like a little-girl's pull-string toy.

This of course, left her in a bind. She was hot, bothered, having problems walking, talking or breathing properly...she looked like a toy come to life and really couldn't verbally convince anyone that she was, in fact, Mona.

Molly was pretty sure of that after calling her best friend and getting hung up on. Having to use an old landline phone was awkward as it was--her smartphone didn't "see" her plastic fingers now. But her friend wasn't dealing with this ditz pretending to be her buddy Mona either.

So what else could Molly do but grind herself off one more time, on a late Sunday evening, and get some sleep? She'd have to be late for work on Monday after cutting the thing off, no biggie....this wasn't one of those internet horror stories where the suit was invincible or anything, right?

[end narration, To Be Continued?]

Asudem Latex said...

wow - great to see your creativity back. love to see more of it..


Unknown said...

Hey Asudem. :)

Thanks for the compliments, but it's unfinished like most of what I try to write lately. I think the problem with me is that too much of the time, people are just like "bored now, get to the Porn Parts Plz", and just ignore everything else.

And I'm not saying that's not a legitimate thing to say, but... yeah. Jumping straight into the TF/personal horror parts just turns me right off. Not to mention, it's what everyone else does. :P *lol*

Still, I could either add another chapter or two, or let someone else pick it up, I'm open to either option. :)



Unknown said...

[resumed narration]

Monday morning was difficult. Yes, it's the real world and the suit did cut off with a pair of scissors, a few hours of time and some patience.

But Mona was irritated with herself over it. Less over losing half a day's work, more over how she got so _into_ that creepy suit in the first place, and then got stuck. Her throat was still sore, somewhat, and she had to drink a lot of water and stay focused to even do her job and talk in an adult register.

In fact, Mona was so focused on not messing up with her voice that it took one of her co-workers, a newbie named Randall, to actually call her out on it: "Why did you wear heels to work? The Mary Jane Style is cute and all, but you never do that. And you've been wringing and stretching your hands and wrists all day..."

Which, Mona had been, because even after cutting the suit off and stuffing the pieces of it in the trash, her hands still felt half-numb and almost as stiff as ping-pong paddles. She was sure the thing had been powdered with some sort of numbing drug--how else could you explain this?--but there wasn't any real telling anyone this stuff either.

How do you bring it up at work: "Oh, I dress up as a shiny doll on the weekends and last weekend I went too far with it...." You don't, not unless you want to get fired.

So that's how Monday went....and so did most of the week, with Mona paying extra attention at home to getting the persistent stiffness out of her hands and feet, even if...

Even if it felt sort of good to be half-stuck, clicking around on tiptoes with stiff, flat doll-hands.

"Stoppit," Mona muttered to herself, still half-squeaky, at home on Friday, carefully finessing some food she had made, a slow-cooker thing she had started earlier that day. Cooking wouldn't be so hard if her hands felt right, but as it was she was having to get creative, just to not eat cereal all the time, or just to make sure she hit the right buttons on the microwave.

"Ah geez, all this and I've gotta pee again?" Mona half-chirped, looking annoyed, not cute.

It was a nuisance, but at least she didn't have to share that nuisance with a new half-roommate as yet. She had the shower and toilet to herself for the time being, and this was a good thing, no sense in having to explain all of this. Especially on why she had to take a leak so often--she hadn't had this much need to pee since she gave up on caffeine and switched to decaf at work.

So Mona went to the bathroom...and in the space between the toilet and the far wall, there was a familiar box.

It looked exactly like the box the suit had been in, even though she had thrown that box out 14 weeks ago. She was sure she had got rid of the thing...

Mona took care of her needs, and...sure enough, it was the same exact box, as if it had never been opened. She opened the box....

And it was the same exact suit, wig and mask. Untouched, unscratched, clean top to bottom as if it had never been used.

Mona felt a lump in her throat, a chill down her spine and a hot lump in her belly, fluttering, all at the same time. She needed this. Who knows why, but she needed that suit....

"Just...not now....please not now, gotta eat something first...." she half pleaded, not even caring how baby-ish she sounded.

[end narration, for now]

Asudem Latex said...

its great - keep going. as a true fetishist - i revel in the details. a cake made just of decorations and icing.... ;-)