Seamless Silver [latex][fetish][supernatural][erotic]

Hm, where do I start?

**At Work**

Until a while ago, she had been a technician in the Swiss particle research facility CERN. And since she had a thing for latex, one day she actually started to wear her rubber at work (undies only, of course). Transparent slip, bra, you name it. Since it was working out so well, she wanted more, but the problem is, if she would put on too much, after a while her sweat would paint dark stains into her “normal” clothing, clearly visible for everyone. The only solution: To go the whole way, to wear a catsuit with gloves and feet, the sweat would stay in and once her skin would have adjusted, she would stop sweating too much. Since most of the time she worked for magnetron maintenance, no-one would discover her little game under her protective gloves and orange overall. Seen this way, her job was far more luxurious than most office occupations.

Until one day something went wrong. Remember “Memoirs of an Invisible Man” (1992, starring Chevy Chase)? Just like that. You mess with quantum mechanics, the very fabric of the Universe, and when Murphy comes along, it really hurts. Funny thing is, no-one realized that something went wrong at all. Only the girl knew.

She was checking some gauges in a service tunnel when they threw the switch upstairs. She saw how the light around her in the tunnel went a little more bluish for a second, that’s all. She took note of the incident to report it later and kept her eyes on the numbers, which were within limits. But while she kept observing, she began feeling her latex a little more intensely than before – not really strange, that’s actually part of the kick, you know, somehow it feels different every moment. But the feeling grew stronger. It was not like the elastic skin became tighter or sweatier. No, it felt more like it was vibrating, like some energy was flowing through it, but the feeling always stayed weak enough that she kept filing it under “maybe”.

Well, the experiment was completed and she wanted to go on with her tasks. But once she started walking, she knew: Something had changed. She was now much more conscious of the touch of the latex on her skin, the change was not subtle at all. Sometimes she was using silicone oil instead of talcum powder to get into her rubber, but of course only at home when being all slippery would not be a problem. The feeling she was having now was comparable to that: Every slightest movement caused the latex catsuit under her lab clothing to glide softly over her body, almost actively caressing her. Though she enjoyed that, she was rational enough to understand that this was not supposed to be. Either her consciousness had changed, her skin, or the physics of her suit. But since she would not like the squares to discover her sick twisted deviation, she of course did not report any of this. When she drove home half an hour later, her body was shivering with fear – which invoked the strange but very pleasant feeling of gliding around in her smooth suit even further. But though her body was buzzing with delight, she was emotionally feeling bad. “Concentrate, Baby, maybe everything’s alright, in the end it’s not hurting, is it?”

**Back Home**

She was so nervous that she actually failed to close the door behind herself when she arrived back home. Well, she closed it, but it took three attempts. Her fear and the intense feeling of the weirdly changed latex, maybe caused by the experiment, were making her clumsy. She undressed everything, 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 little smoother and less wrinkly, yes. But when skin heats and moistens the latex, it usually gets a little more flexible, so that’s not really something. Whatever – she would have to undress her beloved dream skin anyway, because well, as I said, the suit was supposed to keep the sweat in, so she had to use 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 actually kissed by the elastic hull, her toes caressed and massaged. What was going on in there? She reached for the shoulder zippers, her only way out of this run amok joy skin. They were moving heavily, like the handles were held back by glue. Then she started peeling her neck and shoulders. Well, at least she tried – the latex would not come off! But she could clearly feel how the latex 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 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 a bit – though it felt like it did! Why was it all black down there, not the slightest sign of her pale white skin? All she could see was blackness. Like the suit had closed itself and the zippers were now merely decoration. Now she knew that there had actually been a physical change – the effects of the damn collision test had not been confined to the test chamber at all! 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 partly experienced all this from some kind of altered, neutral perspective worried her even more.

The phone rang.

She walked over into her bedroom, and it was this moment when she finally realized how stupid it is to somehow have to pick up a phone just because it rings. When she arrived, she just pulled the plug. Then she sat down on the bed. She had kind of planned 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 (supposedly) 0.3 mm latex! “This can’t be”, she said. She lied down full length on her bed and clearly observed the unspoiled sensation of the fabric – as if she was naked, the feeling was so explicit. But also, every movement caused the latex to slide smoothly over her skin that dwelled underneath the suit. Or did it feel like her body was gliding through the suit?

She wanted to ignore her astonishment and fear for a moment to give in to the intensely touching sensation she was experiencing, but that reminded her of a force she would have to obey, no pulling the plug here. Houston, we have a problem. She went into the bathroom again 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 started spreading 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 instead. 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 hot 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-mechanism around her skin, 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 to prepare a meal (and stopped her movements every once in a while to enjoy her feelings), 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 kind of focus it on the sink.

All her energy suddenly had gone, 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.

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

**The next Day**

She awoke about ten hours later. The usual morning thing: The brightness hurts, the body is clumsy and heavy, the purpose… damn! She looked at the alarm clock: Hm, still early enough. Now her head slowly started to function. “It’s still early, yes, I fell asleep soon after work. Because.” And in only a second, the whole thought complex of yesterday exploded into her head. Instinctively she raised her hands and looked at them, though she knew… latex. It seemed to look a wee bit more silvery than yesterday, like it had been freshly polished with talcum powder. Her skin was not feeling irritated or to be in need of more oxygen like she sometimes knew from other latex nights, and she was happy about that – now she could just keep wearing her latex into the day. Well, as if she had a choice. She touched her “skin” – the sensation was still unbelievably intense … and pleasant. Now she clearly felt the gliding of the latex over her body though it didn’t really move. Also, she felt the touch of the smooth surface with an almost godlike clarity. Wait, it didn’t move? She touched her black skin and stroked it a little. It behaved just like her natural skin, slightly elastic but also staying in place. The strange thing was that she was really feeling the smooth friction of movement, even though there clearly was almost none. So soft and smooth, it was like a tender massage. Strange.

“Let’s try to unzip it again and check it out.” In front of the small mirror in the bathroom, she fumbled for the zipper handles, then remembered that she had not closed them the day before. Still the latex would not come off. Still her supposedly white skin was nowhere to be found. “Damn, what has happened to me? What am I gonna do?” Thinking of her apple experience and realizing that she still wasn’t hungry, she just grabbed her toothbrush. “Right now it’s not hurting, everything’s nice, and I love latex. So what?” While thoroughly cleaning her teeth, she looked at the reflection of her face, smiled a little, relaxed her mind and – took a hot morning bath. The feeling of her own hot fluid streaming into her suit was blissful, how it spread between her skin and the suit, making her all warm and wet.

When she washed the toothpaste out of her mouth she thought: “I might have a problem eating, but what about drinking?” She was quite thirsty. And how long could she continue “solving” her pee problem like this? A few hours later she’d have to start looking like a balloon on legs. Maybe this would be a way to get rid of her second skin – to fill it with liquid until it would burst. Though she didn’t really believe that.

She wanted to deal with her situation now, but decided to get the most important duties out of the way first. She collected her clothes and, realizing her laundry basket was quite full, carried everything to the washing machine and started the cleaning program. Then she picked up the phone – no signal. “Stupid. (Fumble.) Ok, now it’s working.” She called in sick. Since she was doing this at most once a year, she didn’t worry about that. Also, there were other quite proficient technicians on site, no problem for them to cope with her taking a day off. Phew. And now what? Drink test. She used the faucet in her kitchen to drink a sip of water, and her body seemed to gratefully accept the gift. So she drank water, lots of it, with long, deep gulps. Her whole body was brightening up, as if the water breathing life into her rubber imprisoned flesh.

She grabbed a bread knife, one of those big ones you’d use on imagined burglars, loudly saying “I have a knife!” like an idiot, robbing you of the one advantage you’d have: The surprise. She carefully moved the incredibly sharp tip alongside one of the zippers. Just as she expected, it was like she was doing this directly to her skin and not to a 0.3 mm latex layer on her skin. She tried again with increased pressure. It was really hurtful. Damn, I have to know now, she thought, and pressed the dangerous tool strongly against the black skin, moved it about a centimeter, then couldn’t continue. The pain! She dropped the knife on the table and tried to see through her tears and the colors exploding inside her eyes.

After a few seconds, her view had cleared and she finally realized with clarity the gigantic problem that had suddenly and without any warning invaded her life: The latex skin was unharmed, it was not even slightly scratched! She was really imprisoned, it was impossible to escape her black shell, it had become one with her body. And it was feeling sooooo good. Actually, the echos of the painful knife experiment began to change into a cozy feeling, like her transformed body would take any and all physical sensations and turn them into some form of caress. It was almost like a humming inside of her shoulder.

Or was that the washing machine? That thing was going at full speed now, and it was annoyingly loud. Out of reflex, her hand touched the machine (it was placed between cooking stove and sink). Whow, the vibrations were amplified through her new skin. She kept holding her hand against the front panel, and while the latex was massaged and vibrated, it felt like her fingers became softer and softer. She concentrated on the feeling, and there could not be doubt: Her hand was feeling like it was becoming liquid under the intense vibrating movement – a strange but definitely extremely cozy feeling! She pulled her hand back, which was not easy for her. It’s not like she lost motor control … but she had to forcefully overcome her enjoyment. It had been so strong. Only her hand, vibrated by the machine. “Oh my God.” She breathed deeply, looked at the machine like under hypnosis. It was still going at full speed.

She climbed onto the machine, sitting her latex rump heavily on the vibrating box, knowing she might never find the willpower to pull herself from what was probably … hopefully … ahead. Oh yes. Oh baby. The feeling was sooooo good. Strong vibrations running firmly through her thighs and through her feet that she pressed outstretched against the front of the machine. Smooth latex gliding back and forth over her flesh – well, she had kind of understood now that the latex had actually become her flesh. The gliding feeling was its way to describe the contact with anything it touched. Oh, and the body again felt as if it increasingly liquefied. The vibrations were so strong that she felt as if she dissolved more and more into pure latex bliss, not just on the surface like an oiled gliding latex massage, but all through. And of course she was getting incredibly aroused. She closed her eyes and based her hands on the washing machine. Her perception was so clear, she could count every single of the 800 RPM. She did a double take and realized, yes, she could count them. All of them. Insane. And the forceful vibrations seemed to liquefy herself up to the very top of her head. She was merely an emotion with a physical rubber presence. And the emotion was heavenly bliss. Felicity! “Oh God, I’m so fucking horny, it feels sooo gooood, oh yes.”

She was speaking and thinking in parallel, it were different words, but the meaning was the same: She was experiencing indescribable bliss with every inch of her skin and every … liter of her body. She couldn’t help but think and tell how good it felt, how happy she was, didn’t stop, even invented some words in the process, eventually stopped articulating and just sang and moaned her all-encompassing massive pervading lust bliss out with the pure voice of unadulterated carnal horniness. But at the peak of what seemed like an infinite orgasm, she only breathed, heavily, while being blinded by the strongest possible feelings and imagined colors and lights that manifested in her mind by themselves. Then her thoughts subsided, calmed down, everything flatlined. All the descriptions of her bliss she had uttered while being caressed and caressed, they all poured into one, and she thought with her godlike clarity: “I am! I exist!”

There was nothing but this understanding, and she experienced it with her whole being. For minutes. While the machine was still sending pulses of caress right into her latex pussy. Then she became aware of her surroundings again. Oh my God, this bliss was too much for just one human being. All the orgasms of her lifetime at once would only be a shadow against … this. She was weak, but still full of Light. She wanted to get up, but she was incapable. The machine was still massaging her shapely latex presence, and she could not control herself under that kind of stimulation. The more she became aware of the world around her again, the more she realized the caressing latex massage and thus began another journey into bliss without being able to stop or slow down. She was so relaxed and so secure. And so wet! Her love slime was downright flowing out of her screamingly horny crotch, lewdly creeping over her perverted body, enshrouding the strange latex beast in a gooey cocoon that induced even more willingness to be nothing but living sex, calling for even more juices… She came several dozens of times, was washed away entirely by the purest Light of bliss and the best and deepest fuck to ever have happened anywhere in the Universe.

Finally the love torture died down. No, it was not exhaustion, let alone her (nonexistent) ability to remove herself from this situation. The machine had completed the program. She realized, just somehow knew with certainty, that if the machine had malfunctioned and had just continued the spinning cycle for days … yes, this would have been her reality, her fate. She would have had absolutely no will or physical ability to pull herself from this prison. For a moment, she imagined to be shackled to a version of the machine explicitly designed to never ever stop, and having a water feeding tube in her mouth that would keep refreshing her … and allow her to keep invisibly soiling herself … while singing the praises of bliss from the beloved forced machine fuck. And being placed, like this, inside a glass cage in the most public of places. Oh my God, she absolutely loved this thought, and a little afterglow orgasm kissed her juicy love pudding once more.

Slowly, very very slowly, the sound of bliss in herself grew dim, she could feel how the inside of her shapely latex flesh became firm again. And she felt how incredibly relaxed her body was, like she had never been under stress or fear in her whole life. She was now incapable of fear. She had lost the ability. She had been reformatted, reinstalled with a new operating system. With whimsical freedom, she again peed into her latex skin, even forced it a little, and it was so cozy and warm. What had happened to her, how could it be that she had been transformed into a being of pure free bliss? What had she done, who had decided for that? Could this be just an accident?

Could she stay like this? Please?

**Dealing with Pain**

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 decision. And she still was 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 body 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 of the TV, to relieve herself of this influx of association 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 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 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 ever stand. 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. Like she started a program. In addition to the oily love she was now effortlessly drifting through (“Yes. I want to never stop, never!”), she 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, simulating 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, and it was like before. But her path into bliss was longer, and though she knew it was impossible, the bliss was greater. And every time she was carried into the climax, it was more ecstatic, more blissful. Realizing this, without losing a beat, she cried. And continued. 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.

**The Specialist**

I asked to be left alone with the girl while the police was guarding the door from the outside. Of course the corridor was crowded with residents. And of course some were not in the corridor purely because they were fervently masturbating to her voice. Or having sex with a lover. Or someone they just happened to be with. It was that powerful. Well, to be honest, the moment the lift doors opened, I had a stiff one, and I’m not really easy, you know. When I was in the room with her (They warned me not to look into her eyes.) I looked into her eyes and knew: A spirit. Damn, it’s spreading like a wildfire. It’s really the time, goddamn, I’m excited!

I changed the music the girl was apparently dancing to, took the liberty of searching for a track I thought to be appropriate. I picked “System 7 – Faydeaudeau”, which is as much divine as comforting, but also passive. I added “Markus Guentner – Express Yourself”, which is of similar nature and suitable as someone’s Ascension soundtrack (which was, after all, what this was all about). She was following me with her eyes (every once in a while interrupted by rolling them in a wave of joy), and when the music changed, her holy dance subsided. Her singing subsided. Her face stayed joyous. She was merely breathing, sometimes humming a suitable note to the music. She emotionally understood what I was doing … and what I was trying to express. I’m sure I saw a few tears. Through my own.

A part of me thought “I did it again” and that the cops would think “he is a pro” and so on, but I did the only thing suitable to stupidity like that: I ignored it. I told the cops that I seized control (That’s nonsense, you can’t control a spirit, but I used the language they would understand.) and that there wouldn’t be any more disturbances. It took them one or two hours to remove the people from the corridor and one of the officers stayed for the night, sitting on an armchair under the door bell in the corridor of the apartment. I chose that comfortable chair for him for two reasons: One – I’m a nice guy. Two – he was asleep after less than two hours.

The room was quiet. Apart from the occasional squishy gurgle sounds of the oily latex suit the girl was still slightly around in. I went over to her, openly observing her while focusing on keeping inner calmness and relaxedness, so my perception would not disturb the emotion that she physically was. She looked at me, always with a friendly (and joyous) smile, did not ask what would happen etc., probably at peace since I was myself peaceful.

While concentrating, I carefully helped her off the bed, into the bathroom, and out of the transparent oily latex skin. We managed to keep the oil inside the bathtub, no waste and no stains. And there she was, a dark black super shiny breathing doll, really an arousing view, and she was letting me guide her, passively. She knew that she was in a somewhat sticky situation, and that I was a smooth way out of that. She felt it. That I was not like … them. There was no hidden demon. Inside me, it was just like on the outside. I had found the path to ascension myself. If you want to replace your body with pure mind, you have to mean what you say, not just mean the listener to believe you for your own gain (apart from unavoidable self preservation, of course). I decided to become a being of truth. Only, and that’s the interesting part people overlook and fall for, without knowing what this would bring. Every step of the way, first you give, then you receive. That’s how it works.

With my own approach, I had ascended a good bit myself already, but by far not like the individuals I had encountered (and helped) in the world, freeing them from the surprise awakening that some event had forced them into, which had lead, among other things, to their realization that they were basically alone in a world full of demons, a situation they had no way of coping with. Maybe it was good that I hadn’t achieved complete transformation yet. It would have been premature. The world isn’t changing that quickly. I might have become helpless, just like them. And would not be able to help them. Okay, of course now the stupid ego crap begins to rise again in the back of my mind. *sigh*

So, there she was, the black cat. And I was really surprised, I have not ever come across something like this before. When I tried to help her out of the second suit, the black one, it would not peel away. Before I could ask if she, bizarrely, had used glue or something, I realized how clearly my efforts of removing the second skin were showing on her face. She said: “That’s me!” Oh God, the voice.

“I still don’t understand…” What a voice… but I understood. “This is your self-projection, darling. You are a perfect circle, and this is how you see yourself. What you really want to be.” “What am I?”, she asked. “Well, I think you already know. You are mind that has become body. A self-projecting fantasy, a living dream. A spirit. The same thing God is, the being that turned itself into the Universe to create more living dreams, just like itself.”

[CONTINUED IN [COMMENT](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/8wtfpl/seamless_silver_latexfetishsupernaturalerotic/e1y7r5w?context=5).]

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/8wtfpl/seamless_silver_latexfetishsupernaturalerotic