Lindsay dropped her cream-colored trench-coat to reveal a black latex leotard over a matching red catsuit. Why had she worn this outfit on the short walk to your apartment when she could have changed here? That thought didn't linger long because the young woman in front of you needed your full and immediate attention. You patted the couch as an invitation for her to sit down, but she didn't. In six months you thought you had gotten to know her pretty well, so when she started rocking side to side, almost imperceivably, you knew something was bugging her. You tilted your head expectedly in the hopes that she would open up unprompted. The look on her face told you that she got the hint, but she still wasn't speaking. You raised your eyebrows slightly as you started thinking of possible elephants in the room. She was still standing in front of you in full fetish garb, so you didn't think it was a problem with your relationship, at least, not the sexual part. You hadn't missed any important dates: your six month anniversary was last week, consisting of a simple night out at a nice restaurant followed by a memorable, sleepless night in a hotel room overlooking the boardwalk. Her birthday wasn't for another six weeks, and you already had a latex dress ordered as part of her gift. You started wondering about how you reacted when she had walked in. You were happy to see her, but you hadn't dropped the paper to greet her, at least not until she revealed her outfit. Were you too casual about it? You had a pang of worry: if that was the issue, then this was bad news for the relationship. You wanted to be comfortably casual around each other. Sitting quietly shouldn't demand someone to force the start of a new conversation, the same way that every time you see each other it shouldn't be a huge deal. Before another insecure thought could formulate in the back of your head and burrow its way to the front, she broke the silence with a few quiet words.
"I have something to show you...', she trailed off as she stared down at her shoes. She slowly looked up at you, to make sure she had your attention. She apprehensively sauntered over and sat down facing you. The sounds of rubber and leather rubbing against themselves and each other echoed in the small room.
"Before I met you, I had problems... With my social life. My "friends" were only around because they wanted something from me. They all wanted sex, money, power, or some combination of the three." She hadn't taken her eyes off the buckle she was nervously playing with. You knew that her family had some money, even if she never said it explicitly. You had seen the jewelry box at her apartment, and her shoe collection. No matter how nondescript her apartment looked at first glance, the designer logos emblazoned on every clothing item didn't lie. A prime example was the outfit she sat in right now: she had opted for the most high quality, and therefore expensive, latex the two of you could find, and had paid extra to get it ahead of the backlog of orders. You placed your hand on hers, in an attempt to get her to continue. In a heartbeat she had wrapped and interwoven her glossy digits with yours. You felt something in your pants, but you did your best to ignore it and pay attention to her story. Your eyes met and the light shimmer of tears rested in the corners of hers. She quickly turned away, clearing her throat. She rubbed her eyes with one of her latex gloved hands, but that only spread the tear around, dragging some eyeliner with it. Recomposed, she continued.
"So one day, a little over six months ago, I had an idea. People weren't going to respect me, so I became someone else. I packed up some stuff, moved some money around, and threw my phone in the first dumpster I walked past. I went to this shop, they do special effects prosthetic for movies, and gave one of the specialists a lot of cash in return for new faces and her silence. That was the last time the world saw Lindsay Albrecht."
That was the statement that broke your stoic facade. Lindsay Albrecht was the daughter of a German-American pharmaceuticals CEO, Frank Albrecht. Just like Lindsay had said, about six months ago he made the international media circuit offering five million dollars for any information useful to the investigation, and 20 million for his daughter's safe return. Of course there had been hundreds of false tips looking for a quick payday, but nothing substantial had come of it. Your mouth had fallen open, and Lindsay giggled.
"Didn't see that coming, huh?"
You shook your head slowly as you came back to reality: a 20 million dollar manhunt ended in your living room. Before you could even comprehend how much money 20 million really was, you started feeling possessive. Not of the money, not at all, but of Lindsay. The idea of having to share her with the world: police, paparazzi, not to mention her father. He was a man of virtually limitless means who would never let her out of his sight again. It was pretty clear that she didn't want any contact with him. In a moment of clarity you realized that you were objectifying her. She wasn't some toy to keep to yourself, she was a person and the rest of the world needed closure, the rest of the world want-... The rest of the world had abused her. And they'd continue to abuse her if she went back. You didn't want her to stay because she was yours. You wanted her to stay because the person underneath the mask belonged with people who like her, not her money, even if that only left her one person.
"Are you thinking about how much you could buy with 20 million?"
You silenced the conundrum in your head and immediately assured her that the thought literally hadn't (fully) formed in your mind. If she wanted to live this new life with you, that was exactly what you wanted. If she wanted to leave though, at any time, you wouldn't stop her. She nodded understandingly, and fruitlessly tried to wipe away another tear before you wicked it away with a gentle caress. The two of you sat in silence for a moment.
"So do you want to see the face of an heiress?"
You gave a meek nod. The face of the woman you were falling for was fake, and that hadn't quite registered yet. Regardless, you studied her features, somehow aware that they were about to disappear. You looked at her blonde hair in a nice bun, her full cheeks and her button nose. She shifted closer to you and sat up straight, her fingers digging underneath the collar of the leotard. She had a look of concentration as she explored her neck, breaking her concentration only once to give you a small smile, but her eyes betrayed her true feelings. The normal warmth was missing. Instead, she looked worried. Worried about exposing herself, even for a moment, even inside your home, even with the only person who would never betray her. With a noise somewhere between crinkling plastic and a wet snap, the edge of her mask appeared above her collar. The smell of rubber became more apparent as she teased out the rest of the seam. It glistened with latex polish, silicon lubricant and sweat. You noticed the most confused erection you'd ever had was straining against your pants.
"I'll take care of that in just a second..." you looked up to see her staring at your bulge while stretching her false neck.
"...If you'll still let me after what you're about to see," she finished with a grin.
Her gloved hands were pulling the mask off her chin by the time you built the confidence to reach up to her face. Curiosity got the best of you, and you wanted to know what the disguise felt like. You slid your hand in between the mask and her cheeks, the outline of fingers clearly visible through the faux-flesh. Lindsay gave a slight gasp when you removed a hand, letting the silicon snap against the skin of the stranger underneath. You could see the gap between mask and skin near her eyes. You kept kneading her features, feeling the sweaty face of the woman underneath, the woman you had only seen on TV but somehow had slept with multiple times a week for half a year now. You separated the lips of the two different Lindsays and watched your thumb peak between them. She couldn't take anymore playing with her rubber visage.
"Rip it off," she hissed.
You took hold of a handful of the mask just below her chin and pulled your love off of the heiress. Her features stretched to twice their normal length as her eyes and mouth became shadowy voids. Then you pulled the mask upwards, and the same stretched features folded upon themselves like an accordion. You peeled off the Lindsay you knew; the Lindsay that greeted you when you woke up. With one last wet sucking sound, the mask released a new woman.
You had watched the news, and there had been a lot of it. Videos and photos of the Albrecht heiress were shown 24/7 on news channels, serving as constant background images for every segment. Even with such a clear mental image of the beautiful model-gone-missing, when the eyes of the stranger you knew so well met yours, your heart still skipped a beat. Compared to the mask draped over your hand, this woman's hair was brighter, her features sharper. Her cheeks were less plump and her lips more pursed. Her eyes were your only reminder of the woman inside. The eyes with pale blue on the outside of her iris that flowed into a ring of jade in the middle, then the hazel that encircled her pupils. The hazel that shined like polished bronze in the setting sun.
You both snapped out of your shock at the same time, and in the same heartbeat she was lying on top of you, your lips interlocked. Her hands pulled the back of your head towards her, as one of your hands firmly wrapped around the back of her neck, the other fighting to keep a grip on a handful of her oily ass. After a few minutes of exploring each other she pulled away.
"I promised to take care of this," she toyed as she undid your pants. She pulled your pants down, freeing your engorged penis from its fabric prison. Her strange new lips took you into her warm, familiar mouth. It all happened so fast that the cool air didn't even get a chance to kiss your sweat-dampened cock. She knew what you wanted, and in a moment her lips sealed around the base of your member, your entire length being massaged by her attempts to swallow. Your tip was being kneaded by her throat muscles, giving you a sensation of being licked, rubbed, and squeezed simultaneously. The sounds she was making were audible even over your breathing. She was grunting with effort, but they were muffled by your shaft. She held her breath for a full minute last time she deepthroated you, but you were already worked up this time. The urge to release peaked in thirty seconds. The first pulse made you involuntarily thrust into her face just a fraction of an inch deeper, and you shuddered when your buried head started emptying hot cum deep down her throat. Her swallowing synced perfectly with your squirts, pulling every last drop of fluid from your rod so thoroughly that you thought your balls had been drained dry. As her minute came to a close, she jerked her head back, making you shiver as her slick tongue gave you a parting stroke. She gave a few audibly wet gasps for air, but quickly recovered.
A few minutes later, she spoke.
"I wore this latex under my clothes before I came over today." She had climbed back up to your chest, her face inches from yours. You were staring at the ceiling in heady ecstasy, but this remark made you lock eyes with her, your eyebrows slightly raised in curiosity.
"I decided this morning that I was coming over here to tell you the truth, but I wasn't sure how you would take the news. I wanted to be able to seduce you with this if you tried to leave. I also didn't want to lose my nerve while changing here." She played with your hair as you registered just how deeply she must care for you.
"A few people stared at me on the walk here," she teased. "They must have seen the sun glare off my rubber legs."
She was wrapped around your right side, and had pulled her leg up to cradle your cock in the crook of her knee. It had only been a few minutes, but the throbbing feeling was returning to your manhood. She reached over you and grabbed the mask. The deflated caricature flopped onto your chest with a plop sound. It was surreal watching this celebrity casually finger the mouth of the shriveled skin that was your girlfriend's face. She reached into the neck with both her hands and stretched it wide. She looked inside for a moment, then pulled out a small packet that was tucked in the back of the masks neck. She squeezed a translucent, viscous substance into the palm of her hand.
"Lubricant to get it on, then it becomes an adhesive when it gets warm and wet," she answered before you could ask.
The words, mixed with the sounds of her spreading the lube in her hands, and the sweet, rubbery scent coaxed your erection to return. She mixed the lube between her fingers and massaged it over her forehead and cheeks. She picked up the mask again and slipped it down over her head with almost zero resistance. The folds of silicon went taught as the proportions of her face stretched freakishly for a moment. Her mouth became massive, her nose double wide as they passed over the top of her head. The mask made a drawn out sucking sound, not unlike the sound of her moist throat releasing your cock a few minutes before. As the fraudulent features aligned themselves with their real counter parts, their shapes went back to normal. Unnatural shadows remained around her lips and eyes until Lindsay massaged them back into place, making the transition between rubber and flesh seamless. She finished up by teasing the tips of her ears back into their silicon pockets. Your girlfriend, the one you were used to, smiled at you warmly. Her hand found your hard shaft and she began stroking it as she put her lips to your ear.
"Imagine the names those strangers called me in their heads. All the awful words they used to describe the 20 million dollar payday they'll never see... Sexual deviant... Dirty slut... Nympho... Filthy, latex-coated whore with rubbery fuck-holes."
With those words your base instincts took over. You rolled her onto her back and jerked her legs apart. One hand tore the zipper open between her legs and the other seized the collar around her throat. She was so wet that her fluids dripped down the suit's gaping zipper. You took this as an invitation, and with one forceful thrust your cock went base deep into her cunt. She moaned into your hand so hard that you felt the sound. You threw your pelvis back and forth, filling and emptying her wet slot. Her eyes rolled back and her shiny tits bounced, even in their tight latex wrap. Her familiar face of pleasure made you work harder. Even though this was the same person you fucked while watching a movie last night, it felt like a new person was wrapped around you. Your shaft was inside a crazy slut that loved being wrapped in permanent bondage. She lied to the world every day she walked outside as your girlfriend. It was the longest and most in depth role-play session you had ever heard of. Hidden inside your girlfriend was a sex craving slut. She used your Lindsay's face to act out all her carnal desires with anonymity and you needed to impress her this time. You needed to show her that you knew who and what she was, no matter who she looked like on the outside. The look in her eyes told you what you wanted to know. You weren't making love to your affectionate partner, you were fucking a rubbery whore. Fucking her until she came inside her latex and silicon prison. She furiously tore at her collar and screamed with every stroke. Your movements became animalistic as the pressure welled inside of you. You were struggling with pulling out to frustratedly finish on her stomach when she pulled you in with her legs.
"My pussy is rubber! Cum in me, please!"
You'd never heard her spit words out so quickly. You bent over into her waiting arms and your tongues danced as your thrusts got even faster and deeper. With a loud groan you dug your feet into the couch, driving your cock as deep into her as possible. It was first time cumming in her without a condom, and the difference was incredible. You could feel the fluids pumping out of you with a vigor you'd never felt before. She let out squeal into her rubber hand at the same time you felt more warm liquid down below. Even with a layer of rubber separating your manhood from the walls of her pussy, she came, even squirting for the first time. You fell onto her heaving chest as both your ragged gasps filled the room. You were so sensitive that just the movement from your combined breathing made the two of you shudder. Two full minutes later you still hadn't pulled out, but the feelings had faded enough that she could pet your head gently without sending a shock through either of your bodies.
"Wow," she breathed.
You barely grunted in response. You fell asleep together in that position, vulnerable and safe at the same time. When you woke up an hour later she reluctantly got up to clean herself. She took a tissue and pushed it into her deceptively real pussy, then zipped up the bodysuit so she wouldn't leak between the couch and your bathroom. You would have never known she was rubber down there if she hadn't told you. You stopped her with a request.
"Wear the mask less when you're here, if that's comfortable."
"Why?"
"I want to get to know this new version of Lindsay, and seeing her real face would be a good start."
She mulled it over for a moment before nodding lightly. This time she reached behind her head with both hands, and unceremoniously jerked the mask up and forward. The show she put on and the sound of crinkling rubber got you just a little horny again. Separated from her persona and adjusting the hair of the mask, she looked to you.
"You know, once I clean this off, maybe we should try fucking when I'm not wearing a full bodysuit. You'll find that my real body is more... Toned."
The Lindsay you knew wasn't chubby by any means, but the idea of exploring a brand new body made you hard all over again. You jumped up to chase her into the bathroom, eager to help her clean as she giggled uncontrollably. Fin.
This content has been created as a parody, all images belong to their respective owners.
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