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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
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type of literature, or you are under age,
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The Accident
By William A. Lemieux (1995)
***
With all the talk these days about genetic alterations
it isn't surprising that there are things already in
the works that we no nothing about. In this story
science proves to be very exciting in deed. (MF, latex,
sci-fi)
***
Author Note: May be freely distributed by cybernetic
media, provided no fee is charged or profit gained.
Hardcopies are expressly forbidden without prior
consent of the author. May not be published or
distributed otherwise without permission.
February 12th
-------------
Dear Diary,
It's been a long time since I've written anything in
your pages, but I feel like I have to talk about this,
and you're the only one I can tell. I have a feeling
this will be a very long entry.
I have only myself to blame, I suppose. Jurgen told me
not to touch anything, and even if he hadn't, common
sense should have told me not to meddle with things I
don't understand. Or for that matter, things that even
Jurgen doesn't fully understand. Now I'm in a real fix.
It's funny though. Now that I've gotten used to it, I'm
not even sure I want out of this "fix". But I'm
probably not making much sense. Let me start over at
the beginning.
A little less than six months ago, Jurgen told me he
had made a breakthrough at the lab. I went out with him
on the weekend, and he showed me what he'd been working
on. It had something to do with altering the molecular
structure of materials with directed energy instead of
chemistry. I understood the intention, but not the
principles behind the equipment. I mean, I'm fairly
smart, I have a masters degree in anthropology, but I
know when I'm out of my depth.
As Jurgen explained it, the machine bathed the test
item in low level microwaves while scanning a low
powered x-ray laser across it at high speed. They had
discovered all sorts of bizarre effects on various
materials, using various frequencies of microwaves, but
the effects were unpredictable, and they hadn't figured
out how to control them yet. I was impressed though,
and I told him so. We left later, went off to the art
museum, I think. If only I had known then how his work
would affect my life!
The next part of the story came just last week. I had
been in the kitchen making myself a little snack. There
was no point making dinner, since Jurgen wouldn't be
home until late. He was obsessively pursuing some new
development at the lab, and I knew he would probably
ruin his appetite with junk food out of the vending
machines.
The doorbell rang, and with a suddenly racing heart, I
KNEW what it had to be. When I saw the heavy-looking
parcel in the arms of the delivery man, my hopes were
answered.
I have written here many times about the joy Jurgen and
I get from our bondage games and fetishes. But I've
never written down the details before. Why am I
embarrassed? It's not as if anyone will ever read these
words. Okay... a couple we know runs a company that
specializes in elaborate and beautifully made
restrictive rubber and leather clothing, and Jurgen had
ordered a custom made latex bondage suit from them.
Somehow, without even looking at the shipping label, I
knew it was finally here!
I signed for the parcel, and practically ran into the
kitchen with it. With trembling hands, I tore open the
carton. We had ordered the suit over two months ago,
and I had been day-dreaming about it nearly every day
since. I dumped the contents onto the table, rustling
folds of purple rubber spilling out in a heap. As the
familiar aroma of latex filled the room, I marvelled at
the almost overpowering effect it had on me. After
years of playing all manner of fetish and bondage games
with Jurgen, I have come to associate that smell with
sexual pleasure, such that now the odor alone arouses
me.
I laid it out on the table, admiring the craftsmanship
that had gone into it. It was a full body suit of heavy
gauge latex in a deep purple. There was no zipper,
since the suit was made for neck entry only. One of our
favorite games was to dump lubricant inside a water-
tight catsuit so that it would slip and slide around my
body as I moved. A zipper would have allowed leaks,
making a mess.
The attached boots had six inch heels, and while they
weren't exactly ballet toes, they were half an inch
higher than any other heels I owned. Walking in them
would be challenging, but not impossible. I'm going
into a lot of detail, aren't I? Well, despite what has
happened, I still love the suit, and it has given me
such pleasure, that I think a certain fetishistic
lingering over the intimate details of the outfit are
called for.
Jurgen had had a devilish idea for the bust. There were
fitted breast cups of course, but they were made from
thinner latex, and sat over slightly smaller holes in
the chest of the suit. The outer cups had little bumps
inside, to rub against my nipples. My breasts would be
squeezed through the holes in the heavy rubber of the
suit, holding them out and up, and they would bulge out
like two round melons, stretching the cups, the tight
fit and little bumps making me acutely aware of my
nipples at all times.
There were gloves molded onto the sleeves, and quite a
few heavy "D" rings attached with reinforcing straps at
strategic places. The crotch area was fitted with some
very nice accessories as well, but my favorite feature
was the corset section.
Made with two layers of rubber laminated with canvas
and closely spaced steel boning, it was an integral
part of the suit. There was no busk of course, and the
back laces were attached to reinforced flaps on the
outside, with another flap that could be closed and
locked over them, securing the suit on the wearer. I
remember insisting that Jurgen size it the same as my
smallest dress corset. He had suggested a more relaxed
fit, since he planned to lock me into it for a weekend,
but had given in after I described in lurid detail how
sexy I would look wearing it. I recall that our love
making the night we mailed the order was especially
intense.
We had ordered a custom helmet with it, but it was not
attached, since my husband wanted to be able to use
different hoods with the suit, or even take me out on
the town wearing the outfit under my street clothes.
The hood was made with a wide stiffened flange that
would make it secure once the neck of the suit had
closed over it. The eyes were covered with smoked
acrylic lenses, so I would be able to see, but dimly.
The mouth was open, but could be closed with any one of
several plugs, gags, and so on, all of which snapped
into a ridge surrounding the opening.
I thought of how much the new suit would excite him,
and was immediately struck by a mischievous idea. He
had to work late at the lab, but nothing stopped me
from paying him a visit. I was pleased that his work
had been making so much progress, but we had had less
time together as a result, and it had been weeks since
we had done anything more than plain vanilla sex. I
knew he wouldn't leave work until he was exhausted, but
I was sure he wouldn't mind a brief distraction if I
stopped by wearing this! And if I waited until later
that night, the place would be deserted. They only had
a handful of employees anyway, and generally, my little
genius was the only one willing to work late.
Once my mind was made up, I sprang into action, as they
say in the cheap adventure novels. I carried the heavy
suit up to our play room, then took a long hot shower,
paying a little extra attention to my piercings, since
they would be abused somewhat by the tight suit as well
as being steeped in sweat for several hours.
I dried off as fast as I could- I was eager to feel the
new outfit enclosing me in it's intimate embrace. At
least I didn't have to dry my hair. I'm not sure
whether I've mentioned this before... I have been
completely depilated for nearly as long as we have been
married, so it didn't take long for me to get dry. It's
fortunate that Jurgen is well paid for his work. I had
told him very early on that while I was willing to give
up my hair for him, I refused to shave from head to toe
every day. The electrolysis of my head, armpits, and
other areas had taken over a year and had cost a
fortune!
I grabbed the silicone lubricant from the bedroom and
headed for the play room. Silicone is the best thing we
have found for lubricating rubber, since it didn't dry
out or pool in the feet. I knew I'd need it, since the
suit had been designed for a very tight fit.
Before I started, I debated briefly about what to put
in the crotch. The suit had two large holes there, with
thick molded collars. They could be left open, or any
of a host of custom accessories could be snapped into
place, making a watertight seal. A moments reflection
told me that Jurgen wouldn't be likely to want to make
love right there in the lab. I opted for a pair of thin
sheaths, into which I pressed two of my most prized
toys: a pair of large soft rubber phalluses, each of
which has a steel capsule inside, partly filled with
mercury. I didn't want to use vibrators because while
they might be exciting at first, I'd be numb after an
hour or so. These plugs on the other hand, would wiggle
and vibrate only when I moved.
After installing the sleeves and the plugs inside the
suit, I slathered the thick, oily silicone all over the
inside, and then spread a thin film over myself as
well. Wouldn't want to chafe, I told myself,
suppressing a giggle.
Getting the suit on without help was a challenge. If
the rubber had been any thicker, I would never have
gotten my feet into the boots. The neck was reinforced,
but even so, I worried that it might tear as I
struggled to pull it over my hips and get my arms and
shoulders into it. I'm a big girl, not overweight, in
fact a little too slender Jurgen used to tell me, but I
have an ample bosom and a prominent, muscular derriere,
so I had to work to get the neck over them. I had to
force my breasts through the holes by hand. The feeling
as they plopped through and my nipple rings hit the
inside of the cups was exquisite.
Finally, as the collar opening shrank against my neck,
the plugs slid into me suddenly and I gasped at being
stuffed so full without warning. I held onto the mirror
for balance as a little wave of warmth swept through
me. I wondered for a moment whether the plugs I had
chosen might be a little too large, but then threw
caution to the wind. I might not talk Jurgen into sex
at the lab, but I was definitely going to enjoy this
night!
Now that I was fully dressed, I indulged in a moment of
narcissism, standing before the dressing mirror to
admire myself. The fit was perfect! I couldn't have
asked for better. Even the fingers of the gloves fit
snugly and without a wrinkle, which is unusual.
I took a few tentative steps and found that I could
walk without breaking my neck, but I'd have to go
slowly at first. While these heels were only a little
higher than the ones I wore almost every day, the
effect on my balance was significant. It would take
time before I could walk in them as easily as my
regular shoes.
For a moment, I forgot about my mission, revelling in
the tight feeling of the second skin that encased me. I
admit I got a little carried away and I found myself
digging my fingers into my crotch, kneading my breasts.
I was thoroughly turned on before I caught myself. With
a struggle, I made myself stop, telling myself to save
it for Jurgen.
I turned my attention to the corset. Lacing it was
easier than it would sound. I think I have mentioned
before that Jurgen built me a "lacing machine" after I
complained that I couldn't lace myself into any of my
corsets without his help. He's such a little inventor!
Perhaps I should describe it. It's just two little
winches, mounted on opposite walls of the play room and
hooked up to a remote control. I just put one hook
through each lace, thumb the button, and they pull in
opposite directions. The only hard part is that I have
to back off the winches, unhook the laces, and do the
final tightening and knot-tying myself.
I watched in the mirror across the room as the machine
slowly drew the corset closed. I never grow tired of
watching this fascinating process. What woman WOULDN'T
love to see her waist gradually shrinking before her
eyes? As the pressure on my abdomen built, I couldn't
help wiggling a little. The dildos filling me front and
rear responded, and I gasped. I already knew I would
have to take it in steps. This corset was TIGHT! Even
though I tight-lace on a daily basis, I had to stop
several times to rest and allow my poor torso to
adjust.
After about half an hour, I finally had the laces
closed, knotted, and concealed beneath the locking
cover. After only a few minutes, my abdomen became
adjusted and stopped hurting, although it was still
slightly uncomfortable. I would never have got it
closed if I hadn't already been tight-lacing for years.
And tight? I was held rigidly erect. The rigid embrace
of this garment felt even more like a sort of portable
bondage- one of the reasons I got into corseting in the
first place. Between the compression of my waist and
the plugs down below, I was really getting turned on.
At least I'd be in prime condition for Jurgen! On a
lark, I decided to leave the key to the lock on the
dresser when I left.
The only thing left now was the hood.
Diary, you already know how I feel about hoods. The
sensation of having my hearing reduced, of the tight
latex clinging around my head, is delightful. Most of
the ones Jurgen has bought for me have gags fitted, and
well... you know how I love having my mouth filled,
too.
I decided to use the breathe-through inflatable gag
tonight. It took effort to snap it into place, and I
discovered it was impossible to spit out without
removing it from the hood. The hood was made of the
same thick purple rubber as the suit, so I lubricated
it too, then spread more goo on my bare scalp. With
only a slight struggle, I pulled the thick helmet on,
and it slid into place with a wet sucking sound. It was
no trouble to get the nostril tubes in my nose so I
could breath freely.
It took a little more work to get the wide collar of
the helmet tucked into and under the collar of the
suit, but I did it. All of this was rather tiring, and
I knew I'd probably need my husband's help to get out
of the outfit. I fitted the pump to the mouthpiece, and
pumped it, feeling the limp bladder within my mouth
suddenly swell, gradually filling my cheeks, forcing my
jaw apart, and making speech impossible. When my mouth
was nicely full, I removed the pump from the tiny valve
and screwed the little plug in. Looking in the mirror,
it was difficult to tell that there was anything
between the shiny molded lips of the mask.
I left the pump on the dresser too. Jurgen has always
liked me gagged, and I figured that if he wanted to
talk to me when I got there, he could always improvise
something to release the pressure- he's handy that way.
In the meantime, I wanted to feel helpless, trapped.
Okay, I was dressed. The only remaining task was to
wipe off the dribbles of lubricant and apply a liberal
amount of polish to the suit. That took only moments,
and when I was done, I hesitated. I have never done
anything quite this daring before. Suppose I was
stopped by a police officer? I'm embarrassed to say
that the idea of being helplessly incommunicado before
a uniformed officer sent a sudden throb though me. I
suppressed a shudder, and buried my fears.
Before I left, I took a last look in the mirror,
admiring the deep color and brilliant shine of the
suit. My breasts jutted out improbably high and firm,
the corset held me brutally erect, while my now tiny
waist (not to mention the back curve of the corset)
emphasized my bust and buttocks even further. The
skyscraper heels and the unbroken line of the boots
showed off my legs to great advantage.
Not bad for thirty-four, I told myself. I strutted
carefully to the stairs, and began picking my way
carefully down to the front hall. That took longer than
it should have, because the bouncing motions I made
were repeated and amplified by those darned dildos
inside me, and I had to stop several times for deep
breathing and clenching teeth. Eventually, I made my
way into the hall, found the car keys, and headed off
for the lab and my poor unsuspecting husband.
February 13th
-------------
Dear Diary,
I got tired of writing last night. Here is the rest of
the story of how I was... reborn, I guess you could
say, as a new sex toy for my husband. I think it's
getting easier to write about all this, since I seem to
be getting a bit more glib, and taking the whole thing
a little less seriously than I used to.
When I got outside, I was suddenly blind. I had
forgotten one important fact about the night time. It's
dark at night, dummy! The smoked lenses in the helmet
kept me from seeing anything except the lamp posts
glowing on either side of the driveway. I stood there
in bewildered frustration for quite a while, until I
realized my eyes were gradually adjusting to the dark.
After what seemed like an hour, but was probably only a
quarter of that, I could not only see well enough to
strut my way to the car, but I felt confident that with
the headlights on, I'd be able to drive safely.
(Fortunately, I turned out to be right.)
Walking to the car was an adventure, as the mercury
filled plugs inside me wiggled and squirmed again,
practically driving me to climax before I even got into
the car. But if I thought that was bad, the trip to the
lab was even worse, or better, depending on how you
look at it. Ever since we moved out to the country to
be closer to the lab, I have asked Jurgen repeatedly to
have the road graded, since the bumps and pot-holes
make me crazy whenever I have anything like Ben-Wa
balls or these dildos inside me. And that night wasn't
the first time for that.
My dear husband delights in equipping me in all sorts
of garments and toys that he knows will keep me nearly
mad with desire, and then driving into town for dinner
at some fancy restaurant. So far, he has refused to
have our road graded, the rascal. I think he takes
sadistic pleasure in seeing me incoherent with arousal
and sometimes even public orgasms. I both hate and
adore those outings. But I'm getting sidetracked again.
This time I was driving, and it wasn't easy
concentrating on the road. Just as I was deciding that
I wasn't going to make it there alive, I came to the
end of the driveway. The paved road that goes past the
lab was much easier to take, with only the occasional
sharp turn to distract my innards, and I made the rest
of the trip without mishap.
I drove through the open gate, wondering briefly
whether they did any secret work here. There certainly
wasn't any security in evidence.
As I approached the main building where my husband's
lab was, I saw more than one lighted office, and I
hoped that he really was alone. I wasn't really ashamed
of how I was dressed, but I knew that it would cause
Jurgen a great deal of embarrassment if we were
discovered by his coworkers.
I found him in a brightly lit room filled with the
equipment he had so proudly demonstrated only a few
months ago. He looked up with an irritated look at the
sound of my boots clicking on the tiles, but that look
instantly changed to one of surprise and delight as he
took in the sight of my tightly corsetted, booted,
helmeted, and shining form.
"Good God! Diana! What are you doing here?" He stood up
from the instruments he had been staring at and looked
me slowly up and down. He whistled.
I basked in his lusty gaze, and would have smiled
inside the mask, if my mouth hadn't been stuffed full
of rubber.
"So, the suit came, and you just couldn't wait to show
it off, eh?" he asked. I nodded. He held out his arms
to me. I stalked over to him slowly, faltering only
once on the towering stilettos.
"God, I could look at you for days," he said, running
his hands over my tightly corsetted torso, my hips, my
bulging breasts.
"It fits beautifully," he added, "Jeanne and William do
wonderful work, don't they?"
I nodded vigorously in agreement.
"And you are gagged, I suppose?" he asked. He caressed
my swollen cheeks, licked his lips. He knew how aroused
I had to be inside my rubber and steel prison.
I nodded again, and moaned, partly for his benefit, and
partly because I needed to.
He felt between my legs. "And what do you have down
here? Ah, the sheaths... but there's something
inside... your fancy dildos?"
I nodded.
"The mercury filled ones?" I nodded again.
He wiggled his hand vigorously, briefly, eliciting
another heartfelt moan from me.
"Jesus," he said, "How am I going to get any work done
now? You look just fabulous, as always, but... good
lord, this outfit is incredible. I can't wait to get
you home!"
A wistful look came into his eyes.
"But damn! I can't go home yet, I just can't! I
promised the financial people a demonstration in the
morning, and I'm still having some problems. Damn.
Damn, damn, damn."
He continued to stare at me though, as if I were some
fetishistic angel that might disappear at any moment.
I pirouetted before him, showing him every angle,
knowing I looked hot, fully aware of the effect I was
having on him, and loving it. And I knew that while a
skin-tight outfit of patent leather or latex was his
biggest turn-on, the fact that it was ME inside was
what drove his lust over the edge. He might be the
dominant in our relationship, but I can still
manipulate him until he is weak in the knees.
His hands were around my waist, his fingers fumbling at
the back lacing.
"Ah, you've locked the corset on? Where is the key?"
"Mm-hmm" I said around the gag. I pointed over my
shoulder for emphasis.
"In the car?"
I shook my head.
"At home."
I nodded.
He grinned.
"Damn. You just wait until I get you home! I am going
to put you through your paces like never before! I wish
I could take you home right now! But hon, I'm really
sorry, but I CAN'T leave yet. Not until I've got this
bug worked out. You understand, don't you?"
I made soft mewling sounds, and squirmed my hips. The
dildos wiggled inside me and an aroused moan got added
on involuntarily.
"Ah, hmmm," he said then. "Well, I suppose a _short_
break wouldn't hurt. In fact, I ought to just take you
right here. You know, I don't have to undress you..."
I could see his libido doing battle with his desire to
fix his technical problem, whatever it was, by morning.
"Mmm?" I said softly, leaning into him and pressing my
breasts into his chest. Like most men, he has a thing
for tits. It was all the encouragement he needed.
"Okay, that's it! Come on." He turned me round, pinned
my arms behind my back (to my delight) and marched me
out the door, down the hall, and into his office. He
closed and locked the door and swept his desk clean,
papers and books flying in all directions.
"Bend over," he commanded, his voice husky with desire.
I grinned inside my mask. He was really out of control.
It was a good thing that I had let him talk me out of a
longer corset section, otherwise I wouldn't have been
able to comply. With this design, while my torso was
quite rigid, I could at least bend at the hips. I bent
over the desk.
"Spread," he said, placing his hand on my back and
bearing down. I spread my legs wide, having a little
trouble as my heels tried to dig into the carpet. I got
them free, and my chest and hips thumped down against
the desk top. I gasped as the blow on my tit rings sent
a jolt of pain mixed with pleasure through my chest.
Between the trip here with those plugs rattling inside
me and the treatment I was getting now, I wasn't just
ready, I was on fire with need.
I felt an indication of my readiness dribble slowly
down my leg, trapped under the rubber.
He fumbled in my crotch, and soon had the caps off, and
with a bit more work, he got the dildos out. There was
no way he would be able to remove the sleeves from the
outside, but that didn't seem to bother him. He stuck
his hand down the neck of the suit, and pulled it back
coated with slime. He lubed up the inside of the
sleeves, pressing one finger, then two, inside me. I
heard faint rustlings through the hood, (he had pulled
off his lab coat), a thud, (he had dropped his
trousers), and then I gasped as a soft but insistent
heat pressed into me, filling me to capacity.
I have often wondered whether I might have married
Jurgen just for his cock. He could never be mistaken
for a porn star with his wiry, almost scrawny build,
but he was certainly well endowed in the manhood
department, not too large, but just right as far as I
was concerned. And to the sex authors who insist that
size doesn't matter, I say phooey! A big penis may not
be critical, but it certainly is a nice bonus if the
owner knows how to use it. And after our years of
practice, my darling certainly does! He's also adept at
using his hands and his mouth to send me into orbit. He
told me once he had read up on sex before we got
married. Whatever.
He rammed that magnificent rod of his into me in one
stroke, knowing I was as ready as I would ever be. I
nearly fainted from the pressure and sensation that
shot out from my pelvis. There on his desk, me a
picture out of any fetishist's wet dream, him looking
like the "Nerd" posters you used to see in joke shops,
he took me with a wild abandon, pounded me mercilessly,
as he hadn't done in months. It was a short trip for
both of us, due in large part to the suit, no doubt, my
appearance driving him crazy with desire, and the
sensations induced by the outfit doing the same thing
to me. We came within ten seconds of each other, and
his seed was so hot, and there was so much of it, I
could feel it even through the latex sheath inside me.
I screamed against the desk, my cries muffled by the
hood and gag. I was still coming hard even as he slowed
his strokes, his own spasms growing less urgent. I
resolved right then and there to wear this suit at
every opportunity.
If only I had known...
Afterwards, I stood against the wall, because it was
more comfortable than sitting down, and he sat on the
edge of the desk, both of us sipping Cokes from the
machine down the hall. It's our little post-copulatory
ritual, since neither of us smokes. Sometimes we drive
immediately into town for ice cream. There are few
things better after sex than ice cream.
I worked my jaw, still a little bit sore after having
the pump gag removed. Pump gags never bother me when I
have them in, it's afterwards that my jaw hurts.
"You know I'm going to have to get back to work soon,"
he said quietly.
He examined his pop can carefully, not wanting to look
me in the eye.
I nodded, and my heart sank a little, since I knew he
would stay at the lab all night if he had to. He was
too much of a perfectionist to show off his toys in
anything less than perfect working order. But then I
brightened up again, thinking about spending the night,
perhaps the entire next day, locked into the suit,
waiting for his return. My heart beat a little faster,
and I smiled, although he probably couldn't tell
through the mouth hole of the helmet.
"I know," I said. "It's okay. That was great, I mean
it!" And I did mean it.
"Will you be okay?" he asked, looking up finally, his
love and concern for me practically glowing behind his
eyes.
"I'll be fine. Do what you need to do."
I decided he wasn't going to get off lightly, though.
"I'll be waiting for you, in bed, whenever you do get
home. And I'll still be locked into this suit! At least
now I won't go insane with lust, waiting for you to get
home, hee-hee!"
"Okay. I guess. But hey! I'm forgetting the big news!
Come on, I've got something to show you!" He headed for
the door before I stopped him by pointing out that he
was still bare from the waist down. While my absent-
minded genius put his pants back on, I collected the
various parts of my suit that had been so hurriedly
tossed around the room. I had a feeling I'd want them
when I got home.
"So have you named this monstrosity yet?" I asked when
we got back to the lab. I wanted to get his mind back
on his work, since I knew the sooner he solved it, the
sooner he would be home.
"I suppose. Siegfried calls it the Direct Structural
Modification machine, or DSM. By structural, we're
talking about molecular structure, of course. It's not
very romantic, but it's descriptive."
"And what's the problem?"
"Oh. It's not a big problem really, I'm just rigging up
some fancy displays so I can explain to the bean-
counters just what a potential gold mine this project
is. But one of the displays is giving me funny
readings. I think the trouble is in the cables."
"So the machine is working better now?" I asked.
"Heh, heh, heh," he replied. He had that little-boy
look of mischief that I knew meant he had accomplished
something he was very proud of.
"Oh boy, did we fix it! And we found out a lot of
interesting things too. Watch this!"
He grabbed a potted plant off the desk, and took it
over to the machine.
I suppose I should describe this invention of his, not
that it matters now. It was really a hodge-podge of
cabinets and wires slung everywhere, not at all the
clean, high tech-looking sort of thing one sees in the
movies. But having lived with my husband for all these
years has taught me that real science is almost always
messy.
There were three big cabinets that sat equally spaced
around a turntable about a foot tall and six feet in
diameter. A big horn antenna on each of the three
cabinets pointed at the table. Off to one side was a
long metal box with a white panel that looked like
ceramic, in one end. It also pointed at the table.
Jurgen put the plant on the turntable. There was
already a pile of other items on it. I looked around at
the machinery. Indicators and lamps glowed everywhere.
I realized he had been in the middle of an experiment
when I walked in. Then I saw the rabbit in a cage,
sitting on the turntable. I grabbed his shoulder.
"Wha?" he said, startled.
"What's with the rabbit?" I demanded. Jurgen knew how
strongly I felt about the mistreatment of animals, no
matter how important the experiment was supposed to be.
"Don't worry. That's just the point I'm going to make.
You know I wouldn't do anything to hurt him. Trust me."
"I thought you said it used x-rays or something," I
said, still not convinced.
"Yeah, that long box is the x-ray laser," he answered.
"But the total dose is way lower than what you'd get
from a chest x-ray. Actually, that's one of the most
powerful X-ray lasers in existence, outside of maybe
Lawrence Livermore Labs, but their stuff is all secret.
Anyway, the efficiency of x-ray lasers stinks- they
don't have much output."
I tried to stay out of the way while he prepared. The
whole procedure took only a minute. He flipped a
switch, and the turntable started rotating. Then he
twisted a dial, pressed a button, and taking my hand,
led me to the back of the room. I noticed a large
digital display in one of the instrument racks was
counting down from one minute.
"So, ah, is it safe to be this close?"
"So far as we can tell it is, but I rigged a timer,
just in case. We're pretty sure now that it's
completely safe, but it never hurts to be careful."
When the counter reached zero, there was a brief, loud
hum, followed by a soft thud.
"What was that?" I asked, worried.
"The laser. Or rather, the laser power supply- it makes
that sound when the laser fires."
That was it. I couldn't see that anything had happened.
I shot a curious look at Jurgen, then realized he
couldn't see my expression.
He had a big grin on his face. "Come," he said.
We walked over to the table. The bunny was still there,
looking the same as it had before. It wiggled it's nose
at a piece of lettuce in the cage, but left it alone.
One by one, Jurgen held up the other items for my
inspection, saying nothing at first, just grinning.
A thick metal rod, aluminum I think, appeared
unchanged, until he bent it... far too easily.
The potted plant appeared no different than before.
Likewise a glass ashtray.
But a piece of dry wood that had been sitting on the
ashtray appeared to have flowed and melted, without any
evidence of heat or charring, and was now a perfect
molded copy of the ashtray underneath. And it still
looked and felt like wood, at least through my gloves.
I sniffed it. It smelled like regular old pine.
"Isn't that incredible?" exploded Jurgen. "And look at
that rabbit, and the plant. How old would you say that
plant is?"
I was worried, I had never seen him look so agitated.
I looked at it. It was just a garden variety petunia,
the sort that withers in a few weeks.
"A week?" I suggested.
"No! That fucking flower is over six months old," he
crowed. "It's the very first thing we exposed. And
guess when we watered it last?"
I shrugged.
"We never have." He held the pot out to me. The plant
was stuck into a piece of foam, the roots splayed out
against the bottom of the pot. No soil. I shivered. Was
he pulling my leg?
"But you can see that it's thriving! Here, smell it-
it's real. We checked it under a microscope, sent
samples to a botany lab. They called back, wanting to
know what the hell we had sent them- they said the
cells were functioning at a normal rate, but they
weren't deteriorating as fast as they normally do. It's
alive, and not just preserved, but it is aging very
slowly, and IT ISN'T GETTING ANY OF IT'S USUAL
NUTRIENTS, EXCEPT LIGHT!."
"Right," I said, "so what's keeping it alive?" I was
skeptical, but His excitement was infecting me.
"That's just it, we don't know."
"And the rabbit?"
"That rabbit didn't eat or drink anything for six weeks
after the first time we exposed it! At first we thought
it was sick but we checked it out, and it's fine-
hasn't even lost weight or eliminated waste! It's
biologically impossible, but it's true. Somehow, the
metabolism of the plant and the rabbit have been
drastically altered. But with no harmful effects that
we can find. And for some reason, the machine has
entirely different effects on living things than on
inanimate objects. We haven't got a clue what's
happening here, but I'll tell you this: it's big- very
big."
I was astounded. At first I thought he might be putting
me on, but the look in his eyes was unmistakable. Then
in spite of my awe at what he had accomplished, I was
seized with a funny thought.
"It'd make a hell of a dietary method."
"Heh-heh," he laughed nervously. "Right. None of us has
been brave, or maybe foolish is the word... anyway,
brave enough to go that far. Even though we've run a
few primates through it; spider monkeys, chimps, that
sort of thing. We can't find _any_ evidence of neural
dysfunction, brain damage, or anything else wrong, just
that impossible metabolism. But we're a long way from
trying it on a human."
"You could try it on me," I suggested, in my best bimbo
voice.
"Yeah, right," he shot back, "and how do you think I'd
feel if it turned you into guacamole?"
"You'd probably feel like taking a ah, DIP," I said.
"AUGH! Silence woman, before I put that gag back into
use."
I fingered the pump gag where I'd hung it around my
neck.
"Promises, promises," I sighed.
"You're incorrigible," he accused with a smile.
"Anyway, while it doesn't seem to have harmed the test
animals so far, it does have very different effects on
different materials. Oh! I wanted to see what it does
to latex! I brought one of your old stockings with
me... it's in the car. Wait here a minute!"
He trotted towards the door. "And don't touch
anything," he shouted over his shoulder.
I was left standing in front of the turntable, my
thoughts a jumble of fantastic possibilities and wild
fantasies.
And then... I don't know what came over me. I don't
know what I was thinking. But he'd said that it didn't
hurt primates hadn't he? That part about not eating
though, that really interested me. And Jurgen wouldn't
have to know. I could do it and be done long before he
could get all the way down to the parking lot and back.
I guess I'm not really as smart as I think I am.
Without really thinking about it, I pulled everything
off the turntable, turned the timer knob down to
fifteen seconds, pushed the start button, and stepped
clumsily onto the slowly rotating platform.
I stood there waiting, watching the room turn around
me, while the clock counted down. I remembered that old
movie The Fly, where the scientist gets horribly
disfigured by trying his machine on himself. I began to
have second thoughts. I looked at the digital clock as
it came into view. Six seconds. Just as I was deciding
to back out, I spotted Jurgen walking down the hall. He
saw me at the same time I saw him.
"Diana, NO!" he shouted, breaking into a run, but it
was too late for both of us.
I heard a buzzing sound, and felt a wave of tingling
warmth spread though my body. It felt wonderful! I
can't describe it. It was like... oh, I don't know, I
don't think there are words good enough to describe it.
It felt as though I were being dipped in warm syrup
perhaps, only better- my entire skin had suddenly
become as sensitive as my sex. At the same time, I was
suddenly acutely aware of all of the simulation I was
receiving from the suit that I had been trying to
ignore... the constriction of my waist, the entire
surface of the suit stretched taught around my body,
the arched shape that my feet were forced into by the
boots, all of this and more clamored for my attention
simultaneously. This incredible battery of sensations
grew and grew until I couldn't stand it, I thought I
would explode, I thought I would die. As I turned, I
saw Jurgen running toward me, but in slow motion, as if
he were running through water.
I recognized the feeling that was building within me.
It was an orgasm, but an orgasm so intense, it
frightened me out of my wits. I was immobilized, I
couldn't move a muscle, there was nothing I could do to
stop what was coming. So to speak. The sensations
peaked, and the first wave of my climax broke over me.
I screamed with pure pleasure, as a white light seemed
to fill the room, and for one eternal moment, I thought
I really had died, and perhaps was on my way to heaven.
I WAS bliss, I was ecstasy personified.
I passed out.
February 15th
-------------
Dear Diary,
It looks like this is taking longer to get written down
than I thought it would. I took a break from writing
yesterday, and just relaxed. Well, I relaxed as much as
I can these days. But I digress. I was talking about
the accident at the lab...
When I awoke, I was lying on my back, Jurgen's
beautiful face filling my vision. He was sobbing,
calling my name over and over.
"Ack!" I said. I'm really eloquent when I wake up.
"You're alive! Thank God!" he said. "There was no way
to tell, no way..." he broke down again for a moment,
then seemed to rally himself.
"All right. Gotta get calmed down. Gotta get you out of
this. What the hell has happened to you? Jesus..."
I sighed softly, in what I hoped was a reassuring way.
I felt a lingering desire for the incredible feeling I
had just experienced. I wanted to go back to that place
of light and heat and joy. The noise got a response
from Jurgen.
"Oh! What am I doing?" he said, to no one in
particular. He looked into my eyes, or at least, into
the lenses of my helmet. I was still wearing the suit!
"Are you all right in there? Can you breathe okay?"
I answered "Uh-huh" to each question through a tightly
closed jaw.
Something seemed to be wrong with my mouth.
"How do you feel?"
The something wrong was that I couldn't open my mouth,
it was clamped shut. I spoke through closed teeth. I
must have sounded silly.
"I'm fine. I feel... strange but, God honey, that was
the greatest feeling I've experienced in my whole
life."
"It was? But... you screamed."
"I usually do when I come." Always the subtle diplomat,
that's me.
"Oh. Well, at least your mind seems to be okay... but
jeez, something happened- look at the suit!"
I tried to sit up. That was when I realized why I felt
so strange. I couldn't move. I don't mean I was
paralyzed. I could feel my muscles flexing slightly
within whatever was holding me firm. And each time I
did I felt amazing tingles of warmth shoot through me
from wherever my skin slid within the suit. It felt
wonderful, but it wasn't normal, and that scared the
hell out of me, so I stopped trying to move. I didn't
want to stop, mind you. It felt very, very nice. Like
sexual sensations. Wonderful, really. But I could tell
that something was very wrong with me, and I was more
than a little frightened.
I was breathing okay, but with some difficulty. I
realized that I was embedded inside something rigid. I
could only breathe by exhaling, forcing the air out of
my lungs, since whatever had me in it's grip didn't
allow my chest to expand at all.
"Um, I can't seem to move right now," I said nervously.
"Why? What's wrong with the suit?"
"It's ah, well, for one thing, it's not purple any
more. It's black. I thought maybe it had gotten really
hot or something."
"No, at least I don't think so. I feel fine. I felt a
little warm when I was... when it... well anyway, I'm
not burned or anything."
"And it's a lot shinier than it was too," he added.
"Huh. Well right now, it's also rock solid, and I want
out."
"Don't worry hon, we'll have you out of there in no
time," my love told me. He glanced at his watch. "Shit!
The others will be here any minute, they're supposed to
come in early! I've got to get you out of here!"
He tugged at my arm.
"Listen hon, I can't seem to budge your suit- it's gone
completely rigid."
So that was it!
"No kidding, really?" I shot back. "I can't move. Heh.
This could be great fun, if I weren't so scared."
"What on earth possessed you to... never mind. We'll
cover that later.
Um, are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah. I feel good. Really good, actually. I mean,
every time I move, I get these incredible sensations,
like sex, only on my skin... whatever I move... or um,
try to move."
I paused to take stock of my body, trying to move
something, anything. Once again, waves of pleasure shot
through me, but it was a fruitless exercise. I tried
turning my head, opening my jaw. Nope. It was as if I
were cast in stone.
"Okay, listen honey- I'm going to take you home, okay?
We have to get you out of here before my partners show
up. They would flip if they found out! Okay, here we
go- Oof!"
To my amazement, he picked me up, and with some
difficulty, carried me to the door. My husband is a
scientist not a linebacker, and I knew he couldn't
carry me very far. At the door, he had to set me down
again, and turn me around, then pull me by the
shoulders through the narrow doorway. I was completely
helpless. He tried to pick me up again, but the heroic
effort he'd made in the lab must have worn him out. He
couldn't do it.
It's not that I'm heavy, mind you! I'm in great shape.
But the only exercise my husband gets is popping the
top on a Coke while starting into a computer screen. He
had to drag me the rest of the way to the front door.
He got me to the outside door and dragged me through,
when an amazing thing happened. Suddenly, I could move!
I couldn't see as well, since it was dark out, but I
wiggled, and he nearly dropped me in shock.
"What the hell?" he said. He set me carefully on my
feet. "It softened! Thank God, it must have been a
temporary effect. Do you feel okay, hon-can you walk?
I nodded. But as soon as I started to move, those same
amazing, delicious sensations coursed through me, from
all over my body now, as the tight suit slithered
around my lubricated skin. The little dildos that I'd
put back in were still rockin' and rollin' too. I
moaned and came to a halt, shuddering.
"What is it? What's wrong?" my hubby asked. There was
panic in his voice. He must have thought something
terrible had happened to me, that I must be suffering.
I turned slowly, carefully, so I could keep my thoughts
coherent.
"I'm fine. It just feels... TOO GOOD," I said slowly.
"What?! What does?"
"Everything, moving anything feels like, well, like I
said, like sex!
My whole skin feels like one big erogenous zone!"
He stared at me then, as he might have stared at a
particularly interesting insect that had wandered onto
his desk.
"Well. I'll. Be. Damned." he finally said. "But other
than that, you're sure you're all right. Nothing else
is wrong?"
I nodded silently, the suit silently making love to my
neck and scalp as I did so.
"Right then, let's get you home." He fairly dragged me
to his car, while I tottered and stumbled on my
stiletto heels. Ignoring my protests and moans of
excitement, except to ask once if I was still okay, he
stuffed me into the passenger seat, and took off like a
shot. I nearly came just climbing in.
When we got home he pulled me inside, turned on the
light, and I promptly froze. That's when we figured it
out; that the suit is light sensitive. In the bright
light of our front hall chandelier, I was frozen solid,
the suit having once again turned as solid as marble. I
figured it out right away of course, it took my husband
a little longer.
"What's wrong?" Jurgen asked, not realizing why I had
stopped. He closed the door behind us and grabbed me by
the wrist, and as soon as he did, the truth dawned on
him. He turned out the light. I could move again. He
turned it on, I became a statue. Or rather, the suit
did, and since I was stuck inside it, I was just as
immobilized. He turned the light off again. I moved my
arm, letting him know I could move. I should mention
that "move" is relative. The suit was as restricting as
it had been when I first put it on. The heavy boning on
the corset for example, made it quite impossible for me
to bend at the waist.
He took my hand and guided me into the living room, sat
me in a chair, turned on the light. He tapped on the
suit with a pen. It made a hard click, as if I had been
carved from granite.
"Damn. This is very interesting. I guess I can't go
back to the lab-there's no way I can leave you alone
like this," he said.
He called the lab, leaving a voice mail message that a
family emergency had come up, and then started
examining me in earnest.
"Well, interesting suit or not, we've got to get you
out of it so we can check you out. There's no telling
what changes have happened to you. I want to get you to
a hospital." So saying, he turned the dimmer until the
lights were softer, and we found that the suit
gradually became softer as the light dimmed.
"Huh. Okay, I'll be right back." He pounded upstairs
and back again, and I saw a gleam in his hand. He had
the key to the little lock I'd put on the corset flap.
He turned me over and fumbled behind me. I felt, rather
than heard the click as the lock was removed, then I
heard him swear softly.
"Well, I'll be damned," he said softly.
"What?"
His tone worried me. He turned me back over, and
examined the collar of the suit. He plucked at it,
tugged at it.
"Son of a bitch." he said. I hadn't heard him swear
this much in one day for as long I'd known him. I was
getting really worried now.
"What's wrong, dammit?" I said, alarm rising in my
throat.
"It's just that... Well, dammit, your helmet seems to
have melted some."
"What!" I said. I was on the verge of panic now.
"Now hold on a second," he soothed, in his best Daddy-
will-fix-it voice, "don't get excited. The suit
material where the neck meets the helmet appears to
have ah, sort of welded together. In fact, I can't see
any of the glue seams where the suit was put together,
it's sort of smoothed out. Neat effect, really, but
it's going to be a lot harder to get it off you. I
don't think we can stretch that mouth hole around your
entire body. Hmm. I'm just going to have to cut it off,
I'm afraid."
"You've got to be kidding!" I yelled, "This suit cost
us nearly three thousand dollars!"
"Right!" he retorted, "What's more important: your
health, or a piece of fun clothing? I'll buy you
another one, for God's sake!"
I fumed, but I did it silently. To be honest, I was
worried too, and while I really felt fine, I wanted to
be checked out by a doctor.
He came back with a pair of bandage cutters from the
first aid kit. I was grateful, considering I didn't
particularly want my skin sliced open. He couldn't get
the blunt lower edge to penetrate. Not to be defeated,
he pulled a fold of the suit away from my skin. The
bandage cutters wouldn't nick it.
"Huh," he said, and left the room. He came back with
the Fiskars shears from my sewing kit. They're really
sharp, I've cut myself with them more than once. They
didn't even mark the suit. Jurgen looked up into my
eyes, which admittedly, he probably couldn't see
through the dark lenses.
I stared back anyway.
"Toto," he said seriously, "I don't think this is latex
any more."
"Very funny," I said, "then what is it? Come on, get me
out of this!"
"I'm working on it, I'm working on it. And to be
honest, I don't KNOW what it is. But I do know that no
rubber I've ever seen resists a good sharp pair of
scissors! Lemme try something else. Hold on a sec."
He disappeared again.
I heard him go down to his lab / workshop in the
basement. When he returned, he had a pair of heavy duty
metal cutting sheers in his hand. Needless to say, they
didn't work. I was beginning to get the idea at that
point, but it took a lot longer for the real truth to
sink in.
"Okay hon, I want your permission to try a knife."
"Hey, wait a damn minute here! Lemme think," I said.
Then I had an idea. "This reminds me of when we did the
body cast thing, remember? So what if you..."
I saw the light go on over his head, and he took off
again. He returned in a few minutes with the cast saw
he had bought a few years ago, when he had put me in a
plaster cast.
He turned the room lights up full and the suit became
rigid. He turned the saw on, and I winced at the awful
whine it made. I had to remind myself that the
oscillating blade wouldn't cut skin, just the hard,
rigid suit material.
He pressed the blade against the whatever-it-was, and
it made an awful racket. After a moment, I noticed it
wasn't making any dust. He took the saw away and looked
down in amazement. There wasn't any sign of his efforts
except for a slightly glossier area on the already
shiny material.
"Um," he said.
"No go, huh?"
"Nope. Lemme think a moment."
After a long pause, during which I mentally kicked
myself a thousand times for meddling with that damned
machine, he spoke again.
"Okay. What I need to do is get another sample of this
material, so I can play with it, find out if there's a
solvent for it, find out what will cut it, and so on."
"But I thought you said the other researchers were
going to be showing up soon," I argued.
I felt a little more calm now, since it didn't look
like I was in any immediate danger. My darling was a
brain- he would figure something out!
"They are. I'll have to go back tomorrow night with
some latex, expose it the same way, and hopefully, I'll
wind up with a material with the same properties."
"And in the meantime?" I asked, beginning to wonder how
long I would have to spend in the suit.
"In the meantime, you should try to relax. You've had a
long day.
Why don't I put you to bed?"
February 20th
-------------
Dear Diary,
I took another break from writing. It's hard sometimes,
looking back, and wondering how I could have been so
stupid as to get myself into this position. Not to
mention thinking about the future, and what will become
of me. I was thirty-two when the accident occurred. How
long do I have now?
Geez, this is becoming a book all by itself! Poor
diary, it looks like I'm running out of pages, and I
might have to continue this in another binder. Don't
worry, it will still be a part of you- a part of my
life. Perhaps I shall put all of this into one big
story some day and have it published. There would be no
danger, although I'm sure Jurgen would never agree to
it. After who would believe it- it's too fantastic! My
husband has been keeping tabs on the project that
caused all this, and there hasn't been anything really
new discovered. But I'm getting ahead of myself again.
I was telling you about the accident. We had just
gotten home, and Jurgen had tried to get the suit off
me, with no luck at all...
"In the meantime, you should try to relax. You've had a
long day.
Why don't I put you to bed?"
I allowed as how that might be a good idea. He turned
down the lights and helped me up the stairs to the
bedroom. I admit, the sensation I experienced just from
climbing the stairs nearly made me come half way there.
He tried to tuck me into bed, but I was all over him as
soon as he let me go. Between the trip home, and the
brief hike up the stairs, I was raring to go, and I let
him know in no uncertain terms. I suppose I was doing a
slow boil even downstairs, but my nervousness at being
trapped had preoccupied me. I guess I'd decided I would
be okay, because I'd forgotten all about that now. I
pushed him onto his back, and nearly tore his pants
from him. I did pop a few buttons getting his shirt off
before I attacked his nipples. He moaned and crushed my
latex -encased head against his chest. I slipped out of
his hands and slid my attentions lower, licking along
the way to my goal.
When I got there, he was already at attention, his
gorgeous cock pulsing in time to his heartbeat, a tiny
drop of pre-come glistening on the tip. Jurgen does NOT
do that unless he has been aroused for a while. I knew
then that he must have been as turned on as I was at my
"predicament", but had been suppressing it while he
worried about how to get me out.
I serviced him with complete abandon, wiggling as I did
so, for with every squirm and shimmy, hot waves of
pleasure, like surges of liquid electricity, shot
through me. I had never enjoyed giving head more, and
I'm sure it must have showed in my performance.
Before he could come however, he pushed me off of him,
and in a husky voice, ordered me to stretch out on the
bed. Ah, this was more like the old Jurgen! It had been
so long...
I stretched out, and he positioned me spread-eagle, as
if her were going to tie my limbs to the bed posts for
the hundredth time. But once he had me the way he
wanted, he simply walked over and turned on the light!
Instantly, I was frozen in that position, immobilized
as never before.
"Don't go anywhere," he said with a brief smile, before
I heard his footsteps pounding downstairs. He
reappeared moments later with the pump gag I had worn
to the lab.
"Gee, bored with my mouth so soon, dear?" I'm such a
card- I just _had_ to shoot my mouth off. He didn't
reply, just stuffed in the bladder and snapped the
flange into place. I hummed softly with delight as he
pumped it up. I do so love being gagged, and there is
nothing so satisfyingly mouth-filling as a well-made
pump gag. The bladder filled my mouth to capacity, and
the effect was made even more severe, given that my
cheeks and jaw were unable to expand, due to the now-
rigid hood. I moaned as the pressure increased, and was
startled to hear how quiet the sound was. This material
absorbed sound quite well. Jurgen took my moan as a
cue, and stopped pumping.
I could see that the whole situation had my sweetheart
in a terrible state of arousal. He was shaking
slightly, and his cock stood out stiff, despite the
lack of attention paid to it in the last few minutes.
It was pulsing slightly with his heartbeat, as hard and
large as I'd ever seen it.
When he was finished pumping, he climbed back onto the
bed with me, and to my disappointment, did not enter me
immediately. I was ready, oh, how I was ready, and it
was obvious he was too, but my dear sadistic husband
had other plans. It's a sign of his love for me that he
put my pleasure ahead of his own. He lay down next to
me, and using one hand, began to gently tug and tweak
the rings in my sex. He avoided my knob, damn him,
instead teasing everything else, getting as close to my
clit as he could without actually touching it.
I squirmed and writhed inside my hard, shiny prison,
and each movement amplified the pleasure he gave me as
waves of sexual energy shot out from my skin where it
rubbed inside the suit. I could see that this new set
of erogenous zones would be a real problem if I didn't
get out of the suit!
Finally, he let go my outer sex, and gently flicked my
clit ring with the end of his finger. After only a few
flicks, I was ready to explode, and I tried to let him
know with the incoherent noises I was making through
the gag, but it was no use. Finally, just as I thought
I would die from excitement, he stopped, and climbed on
top of me quickly. All at once and nothing first, he
rammed into me up to the hilt in one thrust. The hot
thickness of him, and his pubic bone crushing against
my clit was all that I needed, and I was off on the
wildest ride of my life (at least at that point), my
rigidly held body spasming and convulsing against the
hard confines of my suit. After a few seconds of this,
my forebrain hung up the "Out To Lunch" sign, and I
ceased to think, just revelling in the ecstasy as wave
after wave of climax and spending rolled over me.
After some unknown time, (Jurgen told me later I came
for a minute or so), I realized he hadn't moved at all
since that first urgent thrust. As soon as he did,
starting before I was even wound down from my first set
of climaxes, I was off again, coming almost
continuously as he pounded relentlessly into my greedy,
twitching sex.
I think I passed out.
When I became aware again, the lights were low, the
pump gag was no filling my mouth, and I could move
again. Jurgen's face was hovering over mine.
"All you all right?"
"Mmmm," I answered, as I looked around for the part of
my brain that did the talking, "ahh, yes. I'm very much
`all right'. I love you."
"I love you too, hon. Can I towel you off? We seem to
have made a mess."
I giggled. "Okay." As he rubbed gently at my crotch (we
kept old towels in the underdresser of the bed for "sex
towels"), I clamped my thighs on his hand.
"Wait. Take it easy, I'm still a little sensitive."
He climbed off me, smiled, and said, "I'll be right
back. Will you be okay?"
I nodded, thinking it unusual for him to climb out of
bed so soon after sex. One nice thing about my husband,
he always stays with me, cuddling and talking, if I
want, after sex. One of the biggest complaints I've
heard from the few other wives I've talked to about
sex, is that their husbands always either roll over and
go to sleep, or jump out of bed to go do something, and
don't understand why you'd want to just lie there and
cuddle quietly for an hour.
I got more and more irked as the clock ticked on
(actually, our bedside clock is a digital electronic
one, but you know what I mean) and no hubby. But I
forgave him instantly, as he appeared about fifteen
minutes later, carrying a tray laden with two steaming
mugs, and a plate of Pfeffernuse cookies, Jurgen's
specialty. That's right, my darling, on top of all his
other talents, can cook too. With the exception of not
being much of an athlete, he is such a renaissance man.
Setting the tray on the bedside table, he clambered
back into the bed with me, and though I could move just
fine, insisted on feeding me himself, alternating
little sips of hot chocolate laced with peppermint
schnapps, and bites of cookie. I was in heaven, and not
having to move at all allowed me to relax completely.
After a mug of that potent concoction, I went out like
a light.
August 3rd
----------
Dear Diary,
It has been nearly six months now since The Accident,
as we have come to call it. As you may have guessed by
now, dear Diary, all the rest of his attempts to remove
the suit, or even to scratch it, have been fruitless.
Oh sure, he tried everything short of killing me. He
went back to the lab and tried making more of the
material. It didn't work. Well, strictly speaking,
that's not true. Once it turned a piece of the same
exact latex into a puddle of foul smelling liquid, but
that wasn't exactly helpful. We both agree that it
would be extremely foolish, not to mention quite
dangerous, to expose me to the machine again. So that's
out. He has tried stretching it away from my body and
cutting it with a torch. It turns out the suit conducts
heat very well. The whole thing got uncomfortably hot
pretty fast, and the torch didn't even leave a mark on
it.
I've gotten used to the suit though. I know I may very
likely spend the rest of my life in it. I've adjusted
to the idea, and well, there are some really nice
benefits. I'm beginning to think of it as a part of me.
When I look in the mirror, I see the same thing every
day, and to me, it's just the way my body looks now.
We've figured out that some profound changes have
happened to me, and not just the fact that my entire
body is now an erogenous zone. Like Jurgen's rabbit at
the lab, I haven't been eating. I haven't even been
hungry. I haven't had to go to the bathroom (thank
God!) and apparently, I'm not even sweating. I should
have started smelling bad, not to mention itching,
after being trapped in the suit for only a few days
(without a bath), but that has never happened. I think
my nails have stopped growing, too.
There is something else though, and it's implications
are so frightening, I didn't tell my husband for two
days after I figured it out.
I know now where I am getting my energy. The question
arose as soon as I stopped eating, because let's face
it, _something_ was keeping me alive and warm, if it
wasn't food.
It's light.
Somehow, the suit itself (I think) is feeding me,
keeping me renewed, who knows, perhaps even keeping me
young, by absorbing light, and then doing... well,
whatever it does.
To test this, I stayed in the dark a whole day and on
into that night. By evening I felt weak and dizzy. As
soon as Jurgen turned on the lights, I felt an intense
tingling warmth all over me, and within minutes I felt
much better. When he took me down to the kitchen, which
has better lighting, the feeling got much stronger- in
fact, it felt really good.
Jurgen got a big work light from his shop and played it
across me and the sensations were incredible! It was
very similar to how I felt during The Accident itself,
although no where near the intensity. We have played
with this phenomenon a few times since, as a reward to
me when I've been good. "When I have been good." Hee-
hee! Yes, diary, we have been getting more and more
into the dominance and submission side of the kinky
games we have always played.
We have heavy drapes on all the windows now, and
dimmers on all the lights so I can move around the
house. But Jurgen can always immobilize me totally,
whenever he wishes, with the twist of a knob. Whenever
he is at work I have been staying indoors during the
day, out of paranoia I suppose, even though our nearest
neighbors are miles away on the other side of the
ridge, and we never get uninvited guests. We both know
that I'm now a scientific curiosity, and neither one of
us wants me to become a guinea pig in some secret
government laboratory.
Unfortunately, we had to spread the word that he and I
have gotten a divorce, and that I moved away
immediately, otherwise it would be awkward when guests
came to visit. There would be too many questions.
But anyway, I had been playing with light a lot when
Jurgen was at work. We have this big police flashlight
in the kitchen drawer that is very bright. The feelings
I got by playing over my "skin" were incredible. I
could shine it on just one breast, and get the same
sensations emanating from there as I do when I ah,
"jill off".
So a few weeks ago, I decided I just had to try out
direct sunlight. I knew Jurgen would have fits, because
of what might happen if someone discovered me, but
really, no one ever came to the house any more, except
for the occasionally parcel delivery man, and we
weren't expecting any packages. And besides, it was one
of those times when Jurgen was busy on the project
again, and I'd been suffering a lack of his attentions
lately. We already knew, through fooling around with
the flashlight, that the only parts of the suit that
are affected by light or dark are the ones that are
exposed. In other words, I can stick my arm in a
lighted closet, and it becomes rigid, but not the rest
of the suit.
So a few weeks ago, I left Jurgen a note on the
refrigerator telling him he could find me in the back
yard. I dug out one of our oldest toys, a leather body
bag with a drawstring top that was in poor condition,
and cut the bottom out of it. I pulled it on over me,
with my head poking through the top, and snugged the
string around my neck. The bag reached the floor,
covering my feet. I went outside, into the back yard.
As soon as the sun hit me, my neck and head went rigid,
and a tremendous, indescribably delicious sensation
sprang up all around the area. There was a sort of
rushing hum, like a chorus of voices, in my ears. As I
walked, I could feel my booted feet alternately going
rigid, then softening (somewhat- they had never been
all that soft), and little pulses of electric joy shot
up from them as they peeked out from under the bag. I
walked into the middle of the yard, where I knew I'd be
well-lit for the next eight hours or so.
I loosened the string at my neck, spread my feet a
little and dug my heels into the grass. I hesitated.
The wonderful feelings from my feet and head and neck
made me wonder whether I could stand the full effect
without going nuts. What I was about to do might make
me crazy. But I wanted it. Oh God, diary, how I wanted
it. I screwed my courage to the sticking point, let go
of the string and dropped my arms. The bag slid down my
body, and I felt the suit stiffen as the light reached
the rest of it. And as the full warmth of the sun hit
the suit, I gasped in shock and mindless delight as the
electrified tongues of a thousand phantom lovers closed
upon my body. Rational thought left me, and within
seconds, I came.
I came and came and came, mentally and physically and
spiritually, in an unending and relentless orgasm that
went beyond the merely physical sensations of sex and
swept away my mind on waves of joy and delight and
climax and spending, on and on and on.
The first thing I remember after dropping the bag was
Jurgen looking at me from a few feet away. The sun must
have set, although the sky was still light, and the
suit was still rigid. The sensations had reduced in
intensity quite a bit however- I could think somewhat
clearly again. The look on my husband's face was
inscrutable, however. I was so weak he had to carry me
inside, which wasn't easy, as I've said before. As soon
as I gathered my wits somewhat, I began to cry.
"Honey, what's wrong?" he asked, but I think he already
knew the answer.
"That was so beautiful, so perfect, so... so much. I
want it back. I don't ever want it to end." I knew how
I sounded. I had heard begging like that when I had
worked as a volunteer in a drug rehabilitation center.
I am an addict.
But my husband's love has helped me through it. Though
he is physically ordinary, emotionally Jurgen must be
the strongest husband any woman could have. He keeps me
happy. The sex is still great, although after that one
day, I thought I would never want ordinary sex (or
kinky sex for that matter) again. But the body forgets
with time, and I still feel incredible pleasure just
from walking around.
Jurgen seems to be happy with our sex life, although I
think he's a little jealous of the heights of pleasure
I am capable of reaching that are forever denied to
him. I have begun to worry about him.
June 21st
---------
Dear Diary,
It has been nearly a year since I last wrote. Life has
been up and down. For a while the physical differences
between myself and Jurgen, and the terrible isolation
imposed upon me by the suit seemed almost too much to
bear for both of us. But what could I do, where could I
go? I spent a long time thinking suicidal thoughts, but
eventually, I pulled through it. Our relationship has
improved, we are sleeping together, playing together
again. And now, there appears to be a light at the end
of the tunnel at last.
Last night I awoke to the sound of muttering.
The room was dimly lit, and I sat up to find Jurgen
hunched over the little desk we have in the corner of
our bedroom. We use it mostly for writing letters. The
light in the room came from the lamp on the desk. He
was writing or drawing something, and occasionally
talking to himself. Jurgen almost never talks to
himself unless he is intent on some very important
project. I wondered what he might be up to.
I sat up on one elbow and said, "What are you working
on, hon?"
He answered without looking up.
"We had a breakthrough at the lab. Siegfried, he's our
math whiz you know, came up with some formulas to
describe how the D.S.M. machine works. With them, we
should be able to calibrate and control it more
accurately, by an order of magnitude."
"Oh. Well then... wait a minute," I said, "does that
mean there's any chance you can duplicate my suit
material? Or the effects it had on my body?"
"It means, my dear, that we'll be able to produce any
effect we want, within the limits of physical laws...
and hopefully, reverse them as well."
Finally, he turned away from the desk and looked at me.
"Does that mean what I think it means?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Will it be safe?"
"I'm certain of it. Look. Um, you know how I feel about
the accident," he began. I interrupted him.
"And YOU know how I feel. I'm as happy as I ever was! I
admit, I'd like a change of pace... I mean, I'd like to
be able to... well, it would be nice just to feel your
skin against mine again..."
"Yes. That's what I mean. This thing is keeping us
apart. It's driving me crazy! I'd be happy if you were
well, normal again, or for that matter, if I was just
like you! But... I need to know what you want."
"I want you to be happy," I said, and I meant it. "I
want us to be able to share each other completely. If
that means you becoming like me, fine. If it means me
becoming normal again, so be it."
"All right. But I think I can work it out so we can
have the best of both worlds..."
I was sleepy, and my eyes were drooping. "Okay dear,
but why don't you come to bed?" I glanced at the clock.
"It's three A.M.!"
He came to bed, and we cuddled together and slept. My
dreams were full of bizarre bondage devices, cackling
mad scientists, and incongruously, rubber mermaids.
June 28th
---------
Dear Diary,
Nothing much new to report today. Jurgen says the
modifications to the DSM machine are going well, and
should be finished soon. We have decided to put a high
brick wall around the property, for security and
privacy. The workers are out there right now. When it
is finished, we won't have to worry about anyone seeing
or bothering me.
Even if we are out in the middle of nowhere, we are
both still paranoid. Neither one of us wants me to
become a scientific curiosity. And I'll be able to stay
outside during the day if I want. I'm not sure I want
to go through that again, as incredible as it was,
because I think I am already addicted to it. I wonder
if this is how a recovered drug addict feels. They say
that the first time you smoke "crack" cocaine, it is
better than an orgasm. I hope I never find out. Anyway,
I'll be glad when the wall is done. Having the workmen
around makes me nervous.
July 6th
--------
Dear Diary,
The wall around the property is finished. It looks
nice, and is about eight feet high, so it's unlikely
anyone will be able to see in. Jurgen has had a pair of
fancy wooden gates installed with an automatic opener
at the driveway. There is also a small locked postern
door in the back that opens onto our old hiking trail.
Jurgen made another couple of toys for my suit, just to
keep things interesting. They are a pair of inflatable
plugs that fit the sheaths still stuck inside me. The
pumps are little detachable puffer bulbs, and what's
more, he's put a little battery operated light inside
each one, so once he's blown them up, he can freeze
them that size. He finished them last night and we
played. God, I never dreamed I could be stretched so
much! He did it gradually, giving my poor abused
muscles time to stretch and relax. After about an hour,
I felt like I was getting an enema, both front and
rear. Then he pressed the little switch on each one,
and removed the pumps. I could hardly walk- I imagined
that this was how a pregnant woman feels giving birth.
Of course I know it isn't that bad, because giving
birth is painful.
Later, he got out his big flashlight, and played it
over my breasts, crotch, and the rest of my body for
about an hour. I never quite came, although the
sensations were exquisite. Afterwards, we had sex, good
old fashioned conventional sex, and it was the best
we've had in a month.
They have started doing tests on the modified DSM
machine. Jurgen came home yesterday with a piece of
rubber that has the physical properties as my suit- it
gets hard in the light. There may be hope yet!
Nothing much else new to write about.
July 11th
---------
Jurgen says they are running tests on animals now. They
reversed the physiological "photosynthesis" effect on
that rabbit, apparently with no ill effects. It is just
like a normal rabbit, eating and crapping regularly,
thank God. I'm so excited!
July 14th
---------
More tests at the lab. Jurgen has been playing with
rubber and plastics after hours. He's managed to make
an inverse form of the same latex as my suit- it
becomes rigid in the dark, and softens in light. He
also made some rubber that is very, very soft. It was
originally ordinary thick latex- a piece of an old pair
of ankle boots. But now it stretches to ridiculous
limits, and is very soft- it contracts very slowly.
Another sample he came up with is crystal clear, yet it
feels just like regular latex rubber!
July 16th
---------
Jurgen came home with that "I know a secret" look of
his. When I asked him what was up, he smiled and said
very quietly,
"I think I'm ready to get you out of the suit."
"But... but, what... I mean," I stammered. I was at a
loss for words. I was conflicted too. I wasn't one
hundred percent certain I wanted to be freed now. And I
was afraid. The machine had made me different- had made
me a sex-toy that lived on, and got off on, light. What
might it do to me this time?
"What do you want to do?" I temporized. I wasn't ready
to commit.
"We can tune it very closely now. I should be able to
soften the suit enough that we can take it off, without
affecting you at all."
"And what about me... my body? Can you change me?"
He looked uncomfortable.
"Yes, but... what do you want?" he asked
"I'm not sure. I think I like being the way I am. It
seems harmless, and helpful, my figure stays perfect,
my skin is flawless, everything about my body stays
perfect, without my doing anything. Who knows- I might
be immortal! I only wish..."
"What?"
"It... um, it's not really fair of me to ask."
"What?"
"Well, I wish... I mean, I get so much enjoyment, I can
feel so good, it's out of this world, I can't begin to
describe it, and yet, you're stuck with the same old
body... it doesn't seem fair to you."
"I know. That's why I've decided to join you."
I was shocked for a moment. Then a rush of joy ran
through me. Followed by a shadow of doubt.
"But hon, I've been thinking. I get off, I feel good, I
get recharged and so on, when light hits the _suit_,
not me. I mean, the suit isn't transparent. So somehow,
it's the suit that's feeding me, I think. What
about..."
"I know. It doesn't matter how it works. We can read
the structural and chemical differences between you and
me, and the DSM will make me just like you- it doesn't
matter how it works, and we don't even have to
understand it."
"But what about the suit! I'll still have to wear the
suit!"
"Not all the time- only when you want to. And consider:
once we've softened your suit, we can cut it, add a
zipper, make it something you can put on and take off.
Hell, we might even be able to duplicate the material
and make one just like it for me!"
Well, to make a long story short, we went back to the
lab that very night. I was quivering with excitement,
both from a fear of being discovered in the bizarre
outfit that had been sealed on me for so long, and from
a nagging sense of doubt. What if we were missing some
important part of the puzzle?
After my husband had made sure that no one else was
about, he led me to the lab again, turning out the
lights so I could move around. I noticed another entire
rack of equipment had been added, and the platform and
machine itself looked more "slick", more professionally
finished now.
"Okay, we're warmed up," my love's voice said from
behind the control console. "Step up on the platform
and I'll scan you."
The platform began turning, and then the humming
started, but I felt nothing. Perhaps there was the
faintest warmth, but I may heave imagined it.
After a few moments, he said, "Got it. Now it's my
turn."
He appeared from behind the racks and took my place on
the platform. Then a look of fear crossed his face, and
he said, "Good lord! I almost forgot!"
He began undressing as he spoke. "Wouldn't want to do
anything strange to my clothes, would I?" He chuckled
to make light of the grave error he had almost made.
Soon he was nude.
"Okay, so what do I do?" I asked.
"It's all set up, just walk back to that panel."
I did.
"Now, do you see the key switch on the left? Turn that
to the right."
I did as I was told.
"Now, just to the right is a red button inside a black
safety shroud. Press that."
I did. There was a humming, followed by the same
*thump* I had heard that last time so many months ago,
and a shiver went up my spine.
"Okay, turn the key off," came his voice, sounding
somewhat puzzled.
I obeyed, and shot out from behind the console to check
on my love.
He looked as puzzled as he had sounded, but was
obviously fine.
"How do you feel?" I asked. I was worried sick.
"Oh fine, fine. I'm a little weak, and suddenly I feel
kind of hungry, but that's okay."
"I'll make you a huge steak when we get home. But is
that all?" I asked, remembering how I had climaxed
under the influence of the machine.
"Yeah. Didn't you say you got excited and came, when
you were exposed?"
"Yes. You didn't feel anything?"
"No, just a warmth. But don't worry, we'll find out
soon enough whether it worked. Right now, I want to get
you out of that suit!"
"Okay, I'm... I'm ready."
I clambered back up onto the turntable, while Jurgen
babbled.
"We've got a data storage system on it now. I stored
the parameters for that super soft rubber, and the
clear stuff too, on disk, along with a lot of other
things we came up with. All I have to do is recall
them. I've already confirmed as best I can that these
settings don't affect anything but that material you're
wearing. Okay, are you ready?"
I nodded, then remembered he couldn't see me from where
he stood.
"I'm ready," I called.
I heard the humming, then the thump, and that was all.
I hadn't felt a thing. But as soon as I moved I did. It
felt like my suit was falling off! The sensation was so
alien to me that I was badly startled. It was loose!
Jurgen came over and helped me down from the platform.
Laying me down on a workbench, he poked the suit
carefully with a pair of scissors.
Sure enough, it could be cut! My dear mad scientist had
finally done it! The suit was now so loose that I could
have literally slid it from my body if the hood had not
become permanently attached. But we had planned for
this. Jurgen made a careful cut with bandage scissors
from my waist at the front, through the crotch, and up
the back to the crown of the helmet. Although I slid
out of it easily, the lack of support from the corset
section was quite uncomfortable, and I could already
feel my back muscles complaining. Later, we would
cement a heavy duty zipper into the slice, and re-zap
the suit with Jurgen's widget. Then it could be put on
and taken off at will.
"Honey," I told him, "I think you'd better lace me into
one of my old corsets when I get home- my back is
already killing me."
"Hmm, well, that's fine if we still have them- I think
they're in those boxes in the storage shed. After all,
we weren't sure you'd ever need them again! But right
now, we'd better clean up and get out of here."
What we hadn't thought of was what I'd wear home if we
did get the suit off! Jurgen found a spare lab coat,
and after a while, I wore it home. I say "after a
while" because we spent the better part of an hour just
exploring my body and skin. Neither one of us had seen
my real body in well over a year! He played with my
piercings some, which had been inaccessible for so
long, and that led to other things, and, well, I'm sure
you can imagine. I wonder what some of his more
conservative, greyer-haired cohorts would think if they
knew the uses to which we put various benches, desks,
and consoles during that hour or so.
My first inkling that anything was wrong came when we
got home. As I had promised, I made Jurgen a decent
all-American steak-and-potatoes dinner, something we
seldom indulge in. He ate with gusto, but it came right
back up. I was appalled, but he shrugged it off to
stress and perhaps a flu bug that had been going around
the lab, and after a while, I calmed down. We turned in
then, both of us exhausted by the day's events.
July 18th
---------
This is not good. Jurgen can't eat anything. He tried
to eat breakfast this morning and it wouldn't stay
down. He took some pills for motion sickness, hoping
they'd quell the nausea, and went to work, saying he
felt fine, just tired. Then this evening, he came home
looking like he'd been run over by a truck, pale and
exhausted, and still couldn't eat anything. If he isn't
better in the morning, I'm keeping him home from work
and sending him to the clinic.
July 21st
---------
Well, wonder of wonders! We have created another
monster. We found out yesterday, by accident. Jurgen
still had not eaten, and what's more, was too weak to
get out of bed. He had gone in to the clinic, which had
pronounced him fit and disease-free, but probably
suffering from stress and over-work, which by then we
both knew was nonsense. Something had happened to him,
something the DSM machine had done, and it wasn't what
had happened to me. We had no way of knowing what it
was, and I secretly steeled myself to the knowledge
that he might die.
That night, I tried to comfort him with a little sex.
The love of my life is blessed with a better-than-
average libido for a man his age, (or perhaps I should
say _I_ am blessed, but I digress) but he told me he
just didn't have the energy.
"No, no, hon, just lie back and relax! I'll do all the
work. Whatever had gone wrong, it didn't seem to have
harmed his equipment, since he got hard quickly from my
attentions. I had decided to make this love making
session something special, for who knew how long we
might have together? After I had him at attention, I
proceeded to ignore mister happy, much to my husband's
chagrin, and gave him a long, leisurely tongue bath,
something he loves, but which served only to frustrate
him further. By the time I had deliberately waved my
rear in his face for the third time, he was just about
whining with unabated desire, and I decided to take
pity on him. While I started to work his cock and balls
over gently with my hands and mouth, I squatted
carefully on his face.
After only a few moments however, I had stopped working
on him, and just sat there distracted, as he proceeded
to eat me with such gusto and abandon as I had not seen
in years! In fact, he was making such ridiculous sounds
of pleasure, lip-smacking and moaning and all (and I
wasn't even touching him) that I began to giggle a
little. He ignored me though, and as I slipped into the
throws of my first orgasm of many that night, I
witnessed a very curious thing indeed. He came-
suddenly, and without warning, showering my chest, face
and belly with his seed, and what's more, he _kept_
coming, growling and screaming into my crotch, not
letting up his attentions for one second, as I watched,
fascinated. His come kept pumping out for much longer
than it ever had before, and when he ran out, I stared
as his cock continued to pump and jerk in that tell
tale way it has when he is coming. It took a long time
before he wound down, and longer still before we
finished that night, and finally slept.
We have the answer.
July 25th
---------
We've been experimenting. Jurgen is better, although he
is still weak, and is not ready to work again. He has
called in sick and the doctor at the clinic gave him an
explanatory note about "Chronic fatigue syndrome" or
some such mumbo-jumbo.
Never the less, there is now no doubt whatsoever in our
minds about his condition. My husband, through some
perverse miracle of fate and physics, did NOT receive
the changes I did, probably due to his being nude, and
my wearing that suit. Instead, he appears to get both
tremendous stimulation and nourishment from my come, my
vaginal mucous! Isn't that a hoot?!
In fact, he is _dependent_ on me for his health and
stamina! It would be every girl's dream, if it weren't
for the fly in the ointment, more on that in a moment.
What we don't know, of course, is whether the changes
that occurred to my body have changed my secretions
into something special that he can metabolize, or
whether _any_ woman would do. We both admit to being
curious, and we are both smart enough to realize it
would be foolish to try to find out.
And of course there is the stimulation aspect. He
described it to me in ways that sounded vaguely like my
own secret "affliction", which by the way, we have
discovered, _does_ depend on the suit- we're still not
sure about _that_, but anyway, he said it felt like
swallowing heat and light, and that this warmth spread
through his body and caused him to tingle all over,
until his whole body felt like one big penis... sound
familiar?
But there's another piece to all this- the other shoe,
so to speak. He isn't getting better fast enough. We
have sex as often as we can stand it, and it's keeping
him going, but it isn't enough to get him back to his
old energetic self again. We are casting about for
solutions, but I worry... he can't stay a weakling- the
frustration of that is already wearing on him. I don't
know what to do- I think I just need to generate more
"juice".
August 2nd
----------
Since I can go out now during the day without either
been struck rigid or coming unglued, I have been
sneaking to the library to look into this problem of
ours. Jurgen bitches and moans about being stuck in bed
at home, but I remind him of what it was like for me,
and he is shamed into silence. I have to wear a long
coat, slacks, a wide-brimmed hat, and sunglasses if
it's bright outside, but I manage. A little light still
falls on my face, and it feels very nice of course, but
I can ignore it enough to function.
I found some interesting stuff in the medical stacks
though. Hormones. It seems that some hormones given to
women for other purposes were noted to increase vaginal
secretions as a side effect. The only trouble is, how
in hell do we get hormones without a prescription. I'm
sure they'd be awfully curious about why the esteemed
(and very male) physicist wanted female hormones. Sigh.
August 8th
----------
It seems that many of the simpler female hormones are
also given to animals (human hormones work on animals?
Hard to believe, but...). I am looking into this.
Jurgen is keeping busy by ordering some custom garments
and toys for us from some of our favorite catalogs. He
won't tell me what they are, and his mischief is
refreshing to me- at least he's in good spirits,
generally.
August 11th
-----------
Yes, there are human hormones being given to cattle,
and yes, I have managed to score some from a veterinary
supply store, although the clerk there gave me some
strange looks. I tried dressing as "hick" as I could,
but I don't think she believe me. I have what appears
to be a _huge_ supply, and the shelf life if
refrigerated is _years_. I haven't told Jurgen, he'd
flip if he knew I was going to inject myself with
hormones not approved for human use. I've stripped some
of the warning labels off the bottle...
August 17th
-----------
Jurgen is back at work. That about says it all. And I
need to go lie out in the sun- I'm bushed. My hubby
wore me out last night, but he also seems to have had
his fill. He went a little nuts, and at one point he
was just grinning up at me, wild-eyed, as he shuddered
and quaked on the bed. He looked like some crazed drug
fiend, but he was hale and healthy, and he proved it
several times last night. Wow! We're back in the saddle
again, it seems! The only side effect I've noticed from
the hormones has been a slight tenderness in my
breasts- at least, I assume it's the hormones- I don't
have any lumps. It's not painful, but I hope it goes
away. If it doesn't, I'll go in for x-rays. I should
add that while the hormones have increased my secretion
a little, it hasn't been a whole lot. Jurgen had more
energy this morning, but he still seemed a little tired
(probably because he spent all his energy wearing ME
out last night, the brute!), but really, it seems as
though he gets more fun and stimulation, than real
nutrition or energy from eating me.
August 19th
-----------
The tenderness in my breasts hasn't gone away, in fact
if anything, it's gotten worse, and they have begun to
feel a bit swollen and taught. I went to the clinic
this morning, and they took x-rays, but they showed
nothing suspicious or unhealthy. They wanted to do a
complete physical, but I immediately imagined myself
the center of a major medical inquiry, locked in a lab
somewhere. I panicked and got out of there as fast as I
could without raising suspicion. I am not sure, but I
think they (my breasts) have grown some, too. I'm
relieved, but still concerned. Jurgen came home pretty
tired today, and it was all I could do to hold up my
end in bed. I was still tired (and sore, I admit) from
the night before! We are having sex more often and
longer, than we ever did, even when everything was
normal, just to keep him up and going. Despite that, he
is still not back up to full steam.
August 20th
-----------
Dear Diary,
Mystery solved, with happy consequences. I am
lactating! Jurgen was sucking on my nipples last night,
and to his surprise, got milk. And guess what! It seems
to be even more energizing (if not nearly so
stimulating) as my come, and he swears it is delicious
and better than cow's milk. I tried some, and was
unimpressed- very sweet, though. The greedy hunk sucked
me dry though, and low and behold, the discomfort
disappeared. I guess I know something of what it feels
like to be a mommy now. Oh, and they are quite
definitely larger, probably from all that milk they
have to store.
Today, a package arrived in the mail from one of our
fetish goods suppliers, but Jurgen had anticipated it's
arrival and forbade me to open it. He said it wasn't
finished, and he would have to work on it before he
would be ready to show it off. I think I know something
of what he is up to. This evening, he took off for work
on the excuse that he had left some important papers at
the office. After he left, I noticed the parcel was
missing. Men are so transparent.
When he got back, he finally revealed what he had done.
He had had two pairs of custom "adoration breeches"
made- those rubber pants with a hood attached at the
crotch, so someone can be "forced" to service you
orally. These were mutually useful, in that the helmet
was attached upside-down, so that two people could be
wearing _each_other's_ breeches! They are made of very
heavy rubber, and have plenty of breathing holes around
the crotch and nose. Plus, he took one of his own suits
to work and exposed it to the same program. We tested
these toys out and they all work in exactly the same
fashion as my suit used to.
Speaking of that suit, he has finished putting in the
new zipper, which is small but strong, and air-tight-
it's made for diver's "dry suits". He will expose the
suit tomorrow during lunch. He is getting quite brazen,
I think, but he seems worried about getting access to
the machine- apparently the higher-ups are tightening
security. Seems asinine to me, after all, he invented
the thing!
I can't wait to try these new things of his this
weekend!
Anyway, I'm very happy to see him rosy-cheeked and
brimming over with energy.
August 23rd
-----------
Dear Diary,
It is Sunday, a day of rest for both Christians and my
husband and I. It is also a day to reflect on bad news,
and our very good luck. Friday, Jurgen took my suit and
a whole pile of other things into work in that huge
briefcase of his. He got them modified all right, and
back into his case, but he also got caught by one of
the new managers who demanded to know what he was doing
in that part of the lab.
My dear retorted, rather hotly of course, that he had
developed that machine, and he had more right to be
there than the paper pusher did. That was when the
general walked in. That's right, general, as in Army
officer. It seems that some word had gotten out, the
military had got wind of his little invention, and the
place was crawling with military spook-types. They were
sewing the project up tight as fast as they could.
He barely made it off the site with the goodies without
getting his bags inspected, but the guards are just
rent-a-cops so far, and they aren't used to the new
procedures they are supposed to be following. In other
words, he got lucky.
Jurgen has already protested bitterly about the
militarization of the project and the lab, but I think
he realizes it was only a matter of time. He has
threatened to quit his job, which means retirement
really, which I wouldn't mind one bit, but I don't
think they are taking him seriously. I know better- I
saw the expression on his face while he was yelling at
the senior lab manager on the phone Friday night.
Anyway, we spent a delightful day lying in the sun
yesterday. Sounds so peaceful and innocent, doesn't it?
Hee-hee! Of course, what really happened was much more
prurient, and if the truth be told, quite out of the
realm of everyday human sensuality. I think most people
would have considered it a religious experience. What
we shared yesterday, the places we reached inside each
other, cannot be expressed in words. I'll explain it in
physical terms though, just to get the hot little
details down between your steaming pages.
As I wrote here before, Jurgen had made (or rather, had
ordered) those two pairs of adoration pants from Remma-
wear, and had modified his own suit with the DSM to be
just like mine. We experimented with it some on Friday
night, during a little stress-relief session of love
making. His suit is just like mine used to be, neck-
entry, which can be used with different hoods.
Naturally, he exposed several hoods and the suit
separately, so we wouldn't wind up with the material
flowing together like mine did. I wonder how... oh,
never mind.
In any case, I picked up two breast pumps, those things
nursing mothers sometimes use, and Jurgen has made a
bizarre "milking machine" brassiere out of them. They
are built into an old heavy-gauge rubber brassier of
mine, with the original cups removed. He's attached
hoses to each one, which go to a small suction pump and
some kind of valve that pulses the suction.
The thing felt weird yet wonderful at first, and seemed
to make my breasts swell up even more, but once the
milk started flowing, it was a great relief- now I can
milk myself and save it for him for later. Which is
precisely what I had done Friday night- saved a whole
pitcher of milk. Jurgen has always been the top in our
relationship, which is fine with me, but he agreed to
let me put him in his "rigidized" suit, just to see
what it was like. (We found out, a little to his
chagrin, that light falling on the suit doesn't do a
thing for him, as mine does for me, but that's small
loss considering what he _does_ have that I don't.)
So anyway, I had a brainstorm, and fetched the milk.
Not only did I pour it into the suit with him, letting
him squirm around in it for a while, but I hooked up an
enema bag and hose, ran it into his helmet in place of
the breathing tube, and "force fed" him his dinner. He
loved it! From the noises he was making, I'm sure he
would have been thrashing around if it hadn't been for
the solid restraint of his suit. Later, he told me that
even having the milk against his skin had felt
wonderful, with powerful tingling sensations and
flashes of sexual warmth coming from his skin, as if he
was absorbing it without even swallowing it. Well who
knows, maybe he is. He said he came for what felt like
minutes.
The breast size thing is starting to bug me, however.
When I milked myself yesterday, I gave more milk than I
ever have before and yet looking in the mirror
afterwards, I realized my tits were bigger _still_,
even though I had drained them completely. I have
already reduced the hormone dosage, because I'm quite
happy with them the way they are. Of course, Jurgen,
being somewhat of a breast fetishist, is tickled pink.
So anyway, I haven't described Saturday yet, our big
day of decadence. We had planned it all the night
before, lying in bed and talking after our little
session Friday. We got up early, just before dawn in
fact, and made our preparations. We took a big air
mattress that we used to keep around for guests out
onto the back lawn, laid blankets out and so forth, and
then got dressed. We each put on our special suits, and
one pair of the adoration breeches, and went outside to
await the sunrise.
As the sky grew lighter, I grew lighter-headed, and
before the sun was even up, it was becoming very
difficult to concentrate on the job at hand, and both
our suits were becoming slightly stiff. We moved fast.
I lay on my back on the mattress, while Jurgen crawled
on top and astride me, then we each struggled into the
helmet of the other's adoration pants.
We moved around a bit, getting comfortable, each of us
with the other's sex in our mouth, while the sky grew
lighter and the suits and pants got stiffer. In
minutes, we were trapped, the rubber turned rigid, and
as the first rays of the direct sun fell on me, I
completely forgot what I had filling my mouth. I was in
ecstasy again. Of course, as part of that, I lubricated
freely, and Jurgen slurped it up greedily, his groans
and moans reaching me faintly through the layers of
rubber and my own personal haze of pleasure.
At some point, I remember felating him in a distracted
sort of way, and I know we both came many, many times
that day, some of those times seeming to blur into one
long, continuous, and simultaneous orgasm for both of
us. We must have made one very bizarre looking piece of
lawn sculpture, had anyone been able to see us.
By the time we could move again, as the last shreds of
daylight fled from our lawn, we were both physical and
emotional wrecks- very happy, sated, but utterly
drained and exhausted.
Which delightful state we are still in today. A deep
lassitude and happy paralysis having taken us, we are
lazing around in bed, not really wanting to do anything
at all. Jurgen is sketching, toying with some new ideas
for bondage gear, although it seems obvious that we
will no longer have access to the DSM, while I am
writing in your cherished pages. My eyes are getting
heavy again though, so I think I shall close for today.
Right now, I feel like napping.
September 19th
--------------
Well now. I seem to have a dilemma. My breasts have
continued to develop at an alarming rate, considering
how few days have passed. I have gone from a D cup to a
DDD in less than a month. I'm not sure if that would
normally be possible, even with the hormones, but of
course, I no longer have what anyone would call a
normal physiology. I have had to change bra sizes twice
in thirty days, and while the cost is no problem for
us, I'm wondering where it will all stop!
It is good that so much of my kinky wardrobe is made
from latex, which has tremendous stretch, since I am
busting out of many of my leather outfits. I have
reduced the hormone dosage even further, and Jurgen has
begun to complain that I'm not secreting enough for
him, but I don't know what to do. I can't just keep
getting larger, can I?
PS: Jurgen quit his job at the lab. We are now the
youngest retired couple I know of, and very happy at
that. They seem to have wanted to buy his silence,
since they offered him a huge "bonus" for his work on
the machine. He was going to refuse, out of anger and
pride, but I talked some sense into him, pointing out
that we could retire quite comfortably on that amount
alone, and that having it on top of his handsome
retirement income would make life very comfortable
indeed.
September 29th
--------------
Ten days, and another cup size. This is getting
ridiculous. I'm huge! I haven't gained any weight any
where else, even though that is a common side effect of
these hormones, according to the books. My breasts are
now the size of honeydew melons, and my chest is some
50 inches around. I can't find any brassieres in town
that are large enough.
Fortunately, one of the foundation shops gave me the
address and phone number of a company that hand makes
odd and extra large sizes, but when I called them,
their prices were so high, Jurgen commented that I
might as well just have custom made rubber and leather
bras made. I think I'll do both- after all, I can go
out again now, (although we are still debating how to
handle my reappearance) and I'd like to have some
normal bras as well, since wearing fetish clothes all
the time takes away from their spice- one gets used to
them.
It is good that Jurgen bought the larger size of breast
pumps (which he made into my "milking machine") because
I am nearly filling them now.
October 8th
-----------
No noticeable change in breast size this week. I am
keeping my fingers crossed. Jurgen is having to make do
with less from my sex, but he gets more real
nourishment from my milk anyway. As my bust size has
grown, it has become more and more pleasurable to be
milked, to the point that I nearly go out of my head
with arousal and lust during the procedure- I came just
from having my breasts pumped today!
What's worse (or better, depending on how you look at
it) is that my milk production seems to have gone up
proportionately to my bust size, so that I now need
milking at least twice a day. I feel like a dairy cow!
Jurgen is delighted with my new figure (he _would_ be)
and I admit, I am getting used to it, although I still
feel like a freak of nature. I have kept the rest of me
in shape though, and when corsetted, I cut a very
imposing, if somewhat unbelievable figure!
We have decided to announce to friends and family that
we are getting back together, that the "divorce" was
all a horrible mistake, and that my ridiculous breast
enlargement is the result of a rare hormonal disorder.
I hope they buy it. If not, they can just wonder,
because they'll never hear the truth from us!
My sweet heart finally got around to showing off some
of the other items he had "treated" with the DSM before
they shut him out of the lab. The most striking was the
clear rubber suit. He had made one of my regular suits
crystal clear, just like that sample he had done. It's
weird and eerie- when I wear it, it looks like I've
been coated with glass. We both love the look.
Another interesting pair are the gloves and stockings.
Remember that inverted form of the light-sensitive
rubber he came up with? He dialed that in and treated a
pair of my thicker gloves, and a pair of old but heavy
gauge stockings. He also treated a thick rubber leotard
with the other program. So if I wear them, I can move
my arms and legs when the light is on, but my torso is
held rigid. When the light goes out, they turn rigid,
and my torso is free to bend.
This morning he had me put my suit on, put one stocking
on my right leg, and one glove on the left arm, then
commanded me to make brunch. But the fiend had turned
all the lights in the house topsy-turvy, with one room
dark, blinds drawn, and the next brightly lit. Imagine
trying to walk around like that, when one leg and one
arm is stuck in one position for a while, and moments
later, they are free and the others are stuck! The
kitchen was worse (and even more comical to watch I am
sure) since we have track lighting there, and he had
turned them in all different directions, but had taken
the bulbs out of the main area lights.
Needless to say, I was hot, tired and frustrated by the
time the food was ready, but the dear rewarded me
nicely this afternoon however, so I have forgiven him.
November 11th
-------------
We have decided to move. Jurgen is afraid we will both
find ourselves in hot water, if the truth is ever
discovered about the changes he has wrought in our
physiologies. The house is on the market, and as soon
as it is sold, we are moving to Amsterdam. Life has
gotten awfully busy as a result, so this may be the
last entry in a long while.
FINI
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 49