She was so nervous, she almost failed to close the door behind herself when she arrived, it took her three attempts. Her fear and the intense feeling of the weirdly changed second skin, maybe caused by the experiment, were making her clumsy. She undressed herself hastily, until she could see her black latex body, neck to toe. Turning her curves in front of the mirror did not reveal anything - only the dull shininess of dry latex. No holes, no spots. No wrinkles. Hm? It seemed to be a lot smoother, basically without any wrinkles, yes. But when skin heats and moistens latex, it usually gets a little more flexible, so that's not really something. Whatever - she would have to remove her beloved dream skin anyway, because well, like I said, the suit was supposed to keep the sweat in. So she had used one without the common crotch zipper.

She went into the bathroom, and every step of her smoothly encased feet caused waves of shiver run up her legs. It was so intense! Her feet were outright kissed by the elastic encasement, her toes caressed and massaged. What was going on in there? She reached for the shoulder zippers, her only way out of the run amok latex suit. They moved only with great resistance, as if the handles were held back by glue. Then she started to peel the latex away from her neck and shoulders. At least she tried - it would not come off! But she could clearly feel how it moved smoothly against her skin while she was jerking it. "It glides over my skin but won't let it go?"

She turned her head to the right to have a closer look through one of the zippers. With her left hand she tried to separate the lids - it didn't work. She could only separate the teeth of the zipper a little, but the latex it was attached to didn't move - but it felt like it did! She realized that this had to be what was going on all along since the change: The feeling of being caressed by the motion of oiled latex did not result from actual motion, it was how her latex-encased body now reacted to any touch. Pleasant, yes. But spooky. Had her nervous system changed? And it was also slightly disappointing. It suggested the experience was only in her head, as if the caress was only wishful thinking, unspecific sensory data blown out of proportion by her latex addicted mind.

She laid her hand around her right shoulder and massaged it slightly. "Okay ... that's not imaginary." It was just too strong. Not wishful thinking. The clear sensation of smooth latex and thick honey-like oil smearing warm and most pleasantly over her craving skin ... even though the latex only moved exactly like the skin underneath it looked to be stuck too. And, more astonishingly, now that she had stopped the massage, the clear physical sensation kept going! At least for a few seconds. Then it subsided, drifted away, turned into a fading pleasant warmth. She looked straight at her face in the mirror, shocked, helpless, and also realizing that the face staring back at her was looking quite frightened. Realizing that she apparently experienced all this also from some kind of altered, neutral perspective added to her worries.

The phone rang.

Thankful for the distraction, she walked over into her bedroom. But before she could lift the receiver, she realized the sound of her voice might tell of her distress, and so she instead pulled the phone's plug. Then she sat down on the bed. She had kind of expected herself to bury her head between her soft black arms and cry, but once her thighs touched the fabric of her bedspread, she could clearly feel the texture of its surface - even through her 0.3 mm latex! "This can't be", she said. She lied down full length on her bed and observed with great clarity the unspoiled sensation of the fabric - as if she was completely naked, the feeling was so explicit. But also, every sensation caused the inexplicable feeling of gooey latex massage.

She wanted to ignore her astonishment and fear for a moment to give in to the intensely touching sensation she was experiencing, but this reminded her of a distraction she'd have to obey, no pulling the plug there. "Houston, we have a problem." She went back into the bathroom and sat down on the toilet seat, just out of habit. "Well, I don't know if this works, but I have no choice, so just let it go, baby, just let go." She closed her eyes, quieted her thoughts ... and relaxed. She could feel the hot liquid spread quickly in her crotch, it ran down inside her latex legs, but before it reached her shapely rubber feet, it also began to spread around her bottom, ran up and moistened her waist and began to give its wet hug to her graceful breasts. Since she was quite surprised by this, she stopped and realized that her liquid really stayed like a thin layer between the rubber suit and her skin. Now even gravity wasn't working correctly? The almost painful urge made her let go again, she kept going for about half a minute, and all the time she had this feeling like she was sinking into a bathtub full of warm water. The liquid was even streaming under and over her shoulders and ran down to her very fingertips. She could feel this quite clearly when she moved her fingers and closed and opened her hands. From a rational perspective, this was all quite surreal, but since all these observations were forcing her to also look at it from the perspective of mere self-experience (And it didn't feel bad. At all!), she was beginning to enjoy her situation. Also ... she was now finally quite relaxed.

She was about to stand up and wanted to close her crotch zipper - whoops, none there. Habits. While she was standing up, she could feel the inert warm liquid swash and oscillate around her skin like she were in zero gravity, which in turn made the latex caress her again. Well, she didn't know what was going on, but she definitely liked the feelings. Every move of hers excited the pee-latex-system that was holding her body hostage, and it kept going for a second or two even if she stopped moving. This was an unusually intense latex experience for her, and she just loved the sensations.

She walked into the kitchen, focusing her attention on the firm thick-oily rubber foot massage she was receiving with every step. Every few meters, she stopped to drift through the additional sensations of being caressed even though there was no longer any motion that could explain this. He wanted to prepare a meal, then realized that she was not really hungry. She grabbed an apple. The first bite tasted somehow bland, and while she was chewing, she felt her stomach becoming irate. "What? This is an apple, damned." She swallowed her first bite, but not a second later, her body revolted and spouted the food violently into the room, she only managed to roughly focus it on the sink area.

All her energy had suddenly left her, and after she had somewhat cleaned up the mess with a nearby towel, she immediately returned to her bed, lied down, closed her eyes, and fell softly into a deep sleep, accompanied by the tight feeling of her caressing prison.

She had the wildest dreams. She was not herself. She wasn't even human. But she was conscious. It's beyond words what she experienced, even remembering it is still hardly possible, but whenever we talked about it, the one thing she clearly expressed was the feeling of becoming liquid.