She walked into her bedroom. Like she was flying. She felt her weight, but it did not cost any energy to counteract it. She almost only experienced walking around without having to invest energy or willpower to do it herself, even though it was clearly her own decision. And she was still so relaxed, without fear or doubt. The mere knowledge that she existed had burned itself into every cell of her body and mind, cells that at this point she suspected had been entirely replaced with the physical emotion of latex. She did not worry about her situation any more. It was not supposed to be this way, and it was also not supposed to be different. It just was. Like herself.
Out of pure habit, she switched on the TV. The usual stuff. But then her changed perception kicked in, and she felt ... the lovelessness. Her mind was confronted with the will energy thrown at her by the humans on the other side of the information pipeline, but not just them. Her mind was now tapped in to the current sound of the general human world outside. Into the coldness, the absence of novelty, the playing back of tired old concepts for effect, for milking new energy out of the peers' cow minds who themselves were not willing to strive for higher acts themselves. One many-headed demon that was suddenly so clearly touching her mind and ... her body. The negative emotion of disgust and shock she felt was not just in her head. Yes, she had become a living physical emotion, a higher being. And now this being physically felt the darkness that nobody dare call into question, lest the collective demon descends upon the traitor.
Which was exactly what she was doing. She was in touch with the world outside. Somehow. Physically. And her emotion was one of saying "NO!" to it. She couldn't help it. And the many-headed demon responded. I WILL KILL YOUR SOUL I WILL KILL YOUR SOUL WE WILL RIP OUT YOUR EYES DROWN YOU IN BATTERY ACID SLIT YOUR THROAT BURN YOUR ALIVE YOU ARE DOOMED YOU ARE DAMNED ETERNAL HELL ... she was terrorized, but not in terror. It was pain in her soul, but simultaneously she was a detached observer. She turned off the TV, to relieve herself of this influx of associations that would tie her to the outside world. YOU CAN'T ESCAPE ... what? Was she becoming psychotic? No, it was a mere afterglow of what happened before, this back and forth of throwing the energy of "NO!" at each other, that she was now able to stop doing because she was calming down. Indeed, the No had been symmetric - coming from them as well as herself - but she knew, with certainty, in her soul that she was on the right side, while the puddle of dark mass insanity out there was without justification.
While this new realization that she was alone in a world of demons was shocking to her, she remained calm. Her recent experience and lingering knowledge of "I am!" would not let go of her. She would manage, persist, survive, make do. Eventually. But for now, the best she could do was to carefully learn about her new situation. And, first of all, to rid herself of this lingering physical darkness that had befallen her. She smiled, even though she was still feeling the pain - an idea was unfolding. She started her computer and chose an ambient music playlist. The drifting harmonies, noises, and rhythms were soothing. After a while, when the dark lump inside of her started to dissolve, she could even physically feel the music! "Whew, I am really a living physical emotion. ... Hm ... Permanent mental stress can make a person physically ill. Maybe my new body (whatever it really consists of) is just one with my mind in a much more intimate way than normally. Maybe my body IS now my mind!"
Then she opened her special cupboard, the one not containing clothing she could wear in public ("Not yet at least", she had always hoped). She took another latex catsuit, one without any openings except two zippers on the shoulders, just like the one that had melted with her body. This one was made of yellow-ish transparent latex (its natural color) and it was a little wider, less tight. She had sometimes slept in it. Now, the feeling of the cold, smooth latex against her magical skin immediately gave her a cozy dreamy feeling ... and desires, of course. The smell alone ... her perception was so clear, she couldn't wait to wrap herself into this pleasure.
She carried the suit into her bathroom. Normally, she'd just put it on, as she kept her latex well-groomed so it would last and would also not require preparations when she lusted to enter it. But this time she used her shower to remove the talcum powder. She quickly dried the suit by shaking it and rubbing it with a towel. Then she fetched a bottle of silicone oil, the only oil that latex can withstand. She filled about a handful into the suit. "That's plenty", she thought. Then she shook and rubbed and tumbled the suit until she could see that the inside had been covered entirely with the expensive oil. What would it feel like if she entered ... this ... with her new extremely sensitive latex flesh? With this in mind, she reconsidered, and with a raunchy smile, she poured the whole liter of the thick transparent oil into the suit, while slightly licking her lips. Again she shook and massaged the suit, distributing the liquid love as well as possible.
She returned to the bedroom and spread a large black latex sheet all over her bed, in case some of the oil would get out. Then she climbed onto this altar and sunk a bit into its cool smooth hug. "What a feeling", she sighed. Then she pushed her feet into the oil suit, and she already felt the onset of the ecstasy that would soon befall her, once again taking away all control ... she had to call herself to order, concentrated very hard to ignore the blissful sensations which were actively being licked into her flesh while she crept deeper into her perverted latex kingdom. She pushed her toes into the cool oil filled feet of the suit ("Oh my God. ... oh ...") and hurried to complete the encasement and to close the zippers before ... before ...
Then she was ready, but how could she ever be ready for this. A person, lying on their back in a bed. How sensational. But it was. The cool oil was creeping up to her neck and along her arms, she could feel it, everything. Sticky, juicy, smooth, liquid, caressing, gliding, stretching, smelling, sounding. And her own "latex" skin was, surprisingly, reacting to the oil. It became ... even more sensitive, was even more physically conscious of every kind of touch and glide that she had surrendered her body to. She moved slightly, which immediately made her glide around in the joy suit, it was so cozy, comfortable, licking, caressing, sticking, she would never want to leave again. She stroked all parts of her body, massaged herself into bliss. The higher she was flying, the less she had to actually will it - it was just happening. As if she was running a program. In addition to the oily love she was now effortlessly drifting through ("Yes. I want to never stop, never!"), her liquefying soul was also becoming more open to the soothing music.
After a while, she was observing that her body was kind of dancing to the music while it was lying inside the gooey sex shell on the latex bed. A slow, erotic dance. Her crotch was well involved, but still it wasn't the usual lust ride, this was a pleasure pilot navigating through unknown realms of caress. She had already lost control, was reduced to being the experiencer again. It felt so good, the feeling alone told her: You are beautiful. And she was. If anyone would have seen her, the black spirit of latex dancing in her gooey bliss skin, breathing with the sweetest sound and smiling the sweetest smile ... their mind would have gone permanently numb, they would have become insane. It was literally unearthly beauty and bliss on display. It was not for humans to see.
And so she went for several hours, being pleasured in ever new ways by her smooth massaging latex oil dance. Then she increasingly touched her crotch and breasts though she did not intend to. She wanted to leave her hotspots alone because the oily massage by itself was so fucking pleasing, she could have done this for eternities, actually thought again and again that this, this should be her eternal existence, it would be just right, just home. But it was the music. Somehow the current rhythm and sound was suitable for this, and so her self automatically danced like this, it was out of her control. Since she had opened herself completely, the music was just entering her, stimulating and controlling the physical emotion that she was. And so she massaged the slippery suit hard against her black latex crotch, forcefully pinched and stroked and grabbed her breasts, began singing and humming to the music, moaning, breathing, humming, moaning, singing, became more and more aroused, eventually was just the emotion of lust imprisoned in latex and music.
Of course she came, but it was different than before. Her path into bliss was longer, and the immense physical pleasure was streaming into her from every part of her perverted oil-soaked rubber skin instead of just manifesting all across the volume of her shapely body. Eventually, it became an almost unbearable stream of overly sugar-sweet Light that forced itself with increasing pressure into her helplessly dancing latex form. Every time she was carried into the climax, it was more ecstatic, more joyous, more freeing. Realizing how real all this was, this wonderful magic that had permanently befallen her, that had replaced who and what she once was, she cried but continued her dance. Her singing and moaning was totally anchorless, totally free and ecstatic. And it was loud!
After she had bathed in bliss for hours and hours, the evening came, the night, and the police.
She had been so intensely loud, using the powerful voice of pure spirit that does not have a particle of doubt left in it, untamed and free, that someone could not stand it anymore. Whether it was a question of taste or a matter of sleep, I don't know. They opened her door. No, they didn't kick it in, because the sounds from the inside were undoubtedly that of joy and not of pain. They forced the lock, came in and, well, the descriptions vary here, but from what I heard, the cops (three of them) must have stood there, stunned, listened, and watched for about ... half an hour ... before they actually did what they came for. One of them stepped forward and touched her shoulder to call her out of her ecstasy dream (shouting alone did not help, no wonder).
When she realized there was someone there with her, she did not panic, was not shocked. The joy was absolute. She merely reduced her voice to slight humming and moaning, opened her divinely beautiful bliss-filled eyes, looked openly into the eyes of the policeman, smiled sweetly and just continued to swim in pleasure and to massage her latex flesh and her hotspots. The man was in a mental institution for about a month and is still in recovery. All they heard from him the first weeks was "The Beauty. The Beauty! Oh my God."
To make a long story short, they did not manage to get her out of her ecstasy. And to carry her through the corridor, into the lift, out of the house, into the police car etc. while she would still be singing her passionate joy into the world... they decided otherwise. Who knows what the girl would have done when they would have physically forced her. It wasn't quite a situation they had any experience with.
What do you do when you're in a situation that you cannot cope with, simply because you lack statistical data to process with your logos? You call a specialist.
