Excerpt
She now stood there with the patience of a saint, buck-naked in the center stall of our three-car garage, her head poking up through a poly sheet, the four corners of which were clamped to four stanchions, also at neck height. I didn’t strictly have to do it this way, but I wanted to take my time airbrushing my ‘vette’s body without her having to wear a respirator. I also wanted to minimize the chances of her seeing what was going on and chickening out once I began applying the coating. It was a pain, working under the poly sheet, which forced me to work hunched over or on my knees—hell, it had been easier painting Justine.
All three garage doors were cracked to knee-level, with a few window fans blowing outward to ensure good ventilation. I was glad that we were able to get such an early start, as the day promised to be your typical early summer scorcher, and the relative coolness of the morning would make for a trouble-free application. The ‘paint’ I was using, a failed leather protectant that I had concocted (and for which I had been royally chewed out by my bosses at AZ-TECH, for ‘wasting valuable company resources on poor science’), was tinted to Yvette’s overall flesh tone, and went on smoothly when applied with an airbrush. She stood perfectly still while I worked, bending over when asked, raising this or lifting that, giggling sweetly when I parted her heavy boobs so that I could ensure complete coverage.
Formula LP_16/2 is a very forgiving polymer; I designed it to be. It is a ‘dry liquid,’ somewhat like mercury, and when sprayed on it forms a fine, even coating upon whatever surface it is applied. I’d retrieved some of it from chemical storage early this morning, lighting out for AZ-TECH only minutes after the cock crowed, so to speak, wondering how my ‘vette would look when we were done, my rapidly recovering prick already threatening to burn a hole in my chinos.
I airbrushed every last inch of Yvette’s tight young body, save for her feet, which could be done later if we chose to continue, and for her nipples, which were masked off with perfectly circular tape cutouts. Every other part of her body that I didn’t want coated, such as her sweet poon, rosebud, belly button, and fingernails was covered with K-Y jelly, thus preventing adhesion, for the forgiving nature of my polymer, a double-chain elastomer consisting of striated rubber and carbon, allows it to fill cracks and crevices, forming a tough yet flexible mesh that even my enraged cock wouldn’t be able to penetrate. These uncoated areas were bordered by a thin line of Yvette’s prosthetics glue, giving my polymer’s edges something to anchor to.
With the body coat complete, I extracted a promise from my beloved that she keep her eyes closed until the grand unveiling (as an artist Yvette understands works-in-progress). She was makeup free and had applied astringent, thus ensuring a clean, paint-ready surface. I quickly applied more prosthetics adhesive along her hairline, eyes, eyebrows, nostrils, and the insides of her lips; I didn’t bother with her ears as I had no intention of spraying them. The basecoat took only minutes to apply with a sponge, and was made easier by her having tied her long hair in a ponytail and pinning it up. I did her full lips in a deep scarlet (my polymer takes pigment exceedingly well), and her eyelids and nipples in a matching cotton candy pink. I could not do her cheekbones or any complicated blending, as my polymer doesn’t allow for that, unless you apply coat-on-coat.
I stepped back and looked at her, and I have to say she looked truly strange, what with her unnatural uniformity of color, as well as the complete lack of moles, birthmarks, tan lines, or other distinctive features. Even her fashionably bald quim looked like little more than a camel toe in a flesh-colored leotard. The polymer had cracked in all the places skin normally cracks, which was not unexpected, and was behaving precisely as it had when I’d experimented on my various leather samples at work. All that was left was to apply heat, which would activate the polymer. “Are you ready, love?”
“Go ‘or it,” she replied, diligently avoiding pressing her lips together, and though her demeanor was casual I could sense her nervousness. She was placing all her trust in me, for I had not told her precisely what the outcome of this little experiment, her gift to me, would be, only that I had wanted to paint her, using something that I had designed at work, and that I wanted to surprise her.
I switched on the video camera, hoping to preserve this memory for posterity—and also in case she might not want to do it again—and turned on the blow dryer. I started at her ankles, gently, not wanting to propel the coating off her body, thus leaving unsightly bare spots. It wasn’t that big of a concern, though, for although my polymer only adheres to the skin by means of static electricity, it is extremely sticky to itself.
I played the blow dryer on her ankles, and gasped as the chemical reaction began. Once the heat hit her, her ‘skin’ rapidly transformed, its dry, almost powdery look turning glassy in the harsh overhead light.
“Ohh…” Yvette moaned, and I looked up to find that her parted lips were now a distinct ‘O’ shape, her magnificent bosom rising and falling rapidly.
“Yvette…?”
“Kee’ go-een, Rah-dee,” she replied, determinedly not disturbing her ‘makeup.’ “It ‘eels weird, ‘ut nice.”
She was holding her arms slightly out from her sides, and judging by the way her fingers trembled, her increased respirations, and the way her coated breasts heaved, it looked like it felt rather more than nice. I continued up her freshly shaven legs, trying to keep from laughing giddily as they took on a reflective sheen, indistinguishable from plastic.
“Aaah…!” she moaned, and I could understand, at least academically, what she was feeling. As the polymer heated up, it instantly began forming a striated mesh, not unlike panty hose, though much, much smaller. This mesh was now contracting as it warmed, dragging literally millions of tiny squares across her skin, tantalizing every nerve ending.
I continued up her thighs, marveling at their glossy beauty, and my dick almost exploded in my pants as I watched the globes of her fine ass harden before my eyes, actually seeing my reflection in it! Upward I went, my own stifled moans competing with Yvette’s as I played the blow dryer on her rapidly perfecting body.
Holding my breath, I began working on her breasts, my moans outstripping hers as I watched her incredible funbags take on a lustrous sheen, her nipples harder than I could ever remember seeing them. Finally I reached her face, thankful that she couldn’t hear my ragged breathing over the whine of the blow dryer. In scant moments my beautiful bride went from being a soft, human creature to a living, breathing mannequin. I turned off the blow dryer and stepped back, taking in the totality of her now flawless form.
“Oh…my…God,” I whispered through dry lips.
“Roddy…?” she ventured, a little unnerved, no doubt, by my awed silence. “Is it…do I look okay?”
“Jesus, ‘vette, you have no idea,” I said, my voice a dry rasp. “How do you feel?”
“I feel…warm, and a little tingly…all over. Can I open my eyes now?”
“No…don’t move. Give me a second. I want to do this right.” I hobbled out of the garage, my shaking legs barely able to support me, and made my way to the bedroom. A minute later I set the full-length mirror that normally hangs on the back of our bedroom door against one of the stanchions in front of her; I wanted to give her the full effect. “Okay,” I said, standing a little off to one side, unable to keep the apprehension from my voice, apprehensive because if she didn’t like what I’d done our relationship was going to take a hit, for I would certainly want to do this again, “you can open them.”
She did so, and the look upon her plasticized face was priceless. She gazed at her reflective reflection for a full minute, not speaking, not making a sound, her bright blue eyes wide in astonishment. She then slowly, gradually, opened her mouth, as though it felt foreign to her. “Oh…my…God,” she whispered, raising a shining arm to point at the image in the mirror. “Roddy…” she started, her breath coming fast, “I look so…fake! Unnh…!” at which point she fell to her knees and began shaking uncontrollably.
“Yvette…!” I cried, frightened. Panicking, I knelt down to take her in my arms, but she quickly grabbed hold of me instead.
“God…unnh!…Rod…!” she panted, grasping at my shoulders, bucking and twitching in my arms, gasping hoarsely, a spontaneous orgasm such as I had never seen. She cried and shook, clutching me to her, pinning my forearms to her sides, robbing me of the opportunity of joining in, of touching her shiny new body. I so wanted to touch her, to feel her synthetic skin, but I stayed perfectly still, not wishing to do anything that might disturb what appeared to be an orgasm of biblical proportions. There was another sense available to me, though, and with my nose buried in the crook of her neck I couldn’t help but take in her scent, almost coming in my chinos as her perfume entered my nostrils—new car smell!
I gloried in her heady fragrance as her hands quickly moved up and grabbed my head, her tongue sliding into my mouth scant seconds later. The feel of her lips upon mine was truly magical; they were so smooth, so unreal!
“Ohh….” I moaned, as my hands, freed from their constriction, found my ‘vette’s waist. Her skin felt like rubber, almost like she was wearing a wetsuit. I moved my hands up and down her body while her tongue continued assaulting my mouth. It just felt so wonderful I couldn’t believe it. I wasted no time sliding my hands up to her fantastic boobs, the warmth of her artificial skin more erotic than any sensation I had ever known. Her heavy juggs felt somehow lighter in my hands, which the reasoning though rapidly dwindling part of my mind told me was due to the mesh contracting as the weight shifted on her structure.
“Oh, God, yes, Rod!” she panted. “Squeeze my big fake tits!”
They did feel fake, like warm flesh-colored water balloons, and her hard rubbery nipples were the exact consistency of pencil erasers. It was my birthday, and I had received, or given myself, the world’s first living latex love doll!
“Oh, R-Rod,” she moaned, pulling away from me, her voice tremulous, “please fuck me! I need your dick in me now!”
She was crying, but her tears were not born of sadness, or even joy, but a beatific ecstasy. Still unable to believe her unnatural beauty, I knelt there, transfixed, watching as her tears slid down her shining cheeks like drops of water down a shower tile. I picked her up off the garage floor, her long legs wrapping themselves around my waist. I began lumbering toward the door into the house, so that I could throw her onto the bed and do things to her body that were probably illegal in Amsterdam, but Yvette’s voice sang out, her tone desperate. “Roddy, I can’t wait! Fuck me in here! Fuck me now!”
Considering all that she had done for me this morning, I figured it would be the least I could do for her. I quickly turned and laid my rubberized bride on the back end of my bitchin’ wheels, onto my Justine. I shucked my pants to the floor and lost no time in shoving my raging prick inside her, moaning loudly as her slick cunt swallowed my length whole. Though her body felt fake, her pussy felt all too real. I repeatedly slammed into her, ramming my rod as deep into her as I could, but for all the force I imparted, her body didn’t slide or move up and down at all, her latex skin gripping the trunk of my car like a surgical glove.
I held off as long as I could, which wasn’t very, but what I lacked in porn star control I made up for in exuberance, pistoning in and out of my sweet ‘vette’s thoroughly lubricated cunt so fervently I thought we might spontaneously combust.
When it was over I lay in her embrace, my left hand stroking her smooth rear end, my breathing just barely below the level at which paramedics will slap an oxygen mask on you. “Are…you…okay…’vette?” I managed to gasp. I was a little worried that I might have hurt her, so savage had been my thrusts, as well as feeling a little guilty for having treated her so selfishly.
“Are…you…kidding…?” she gasped back, rubbery fingers stroking the back of my neck. “Roddy…look at me. I’m not…okay. I’m…beautiful!”
And since I make it a habit never to contradict a woman into whom I’ve just emptied my balls, I kept my dissenting opinion to myself. My ‘vette wasn’t just beautiful, she was boss!
