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Beyond all expectations, it had arrived.
After months of requests for more measurements, photo references, and ultimately, more and more time, a large crate awaited her, within which, amidst the expected tons of packing peanuts, was-
A hobby. No, hobbies involve balsa wood and glue. Yet this endeavor was obviously far too involved to be merely an interest. A fetish? The thought shook her mind and, against all haughty and prepared instinct, her body as well.
She gave a heavy sigh to calm her nerves and to attempt to slow her racing heart. A glance into a mirror overlooking her fireplace reminded her that, at least for now, she remained who she was. Madison. Maddy for short, who worked in IT and had no personal life who lived alone and was wasting her looks chilled pale in server rooms, reading about new developments in cable technology.
She laughed at the thought. Yes, it was all true. She really didn’t get out much, and she was the only woman in her department, and yes, such a career in information management and data security was hardly the kind of exciting new field filled with attractive 20 somethings with vibrant social lives.
And yes, people were generally surprised. While she never considered herself much of a beauty, her slim frame, short cropped blonde hair, button nose and blemish free skin, definitely opened doors for her. As her university friends not-so-subtly hinted at, she had other options than to get a masters and join the wage slaves at Cetadyne.
But it was 2023, and her job was undeniably important to Cetadyne Systems. New developments by the labcoats upstairs had to be organized and managed in a way that was halfway comprehensible to the other departments and the shallow minded suits in management, whilst maintaining security from corporate espionage. And she was respected; after a period of awkwardness she found herself nurturing a kind of camaraderie with the other basement dwelling IT professionals, and they appreciated her ability to talk to upper management. They were a spotty lot, to be sure, but she appreciated their general open mindedness and she enjoyed talking shop about new tech developments with them.
And on top of all that, she was well paid. It was rare to find someone of her skills and talents, who could navigate the corporate world, understand and decode scientific papers, and keep up with database security developments to ensure that the whole system worked smoothly. And, though she was a bit loathe to admit it, being a woman in that field checked off a corporate checklist somewhere, and they took every advantage of using her in recruitment ads.
She cracked an wry smile. She was stalling. She made a face that attempted to evoke a fiercesome tiger, but came out as more of a constipated kitten. She hoisted the titatium crowbar above her head and with one smooth motion cleft the entire wooden crate in-twain.
Not really. It got stuck in a mass of splintered wood and only in a flailing attempt to extricate her tool (a slightly ironic gift from an ex boyfriend) did the top panel pursaklar escort fly off. Setting the prybar aside, Maddy gazed inside at a strange sight.
A rather well endowed East asian woman, dressed in a stereotypical secretarial outfit, with a pencil skirt cut far shorter than Cetadyne dress code would allow and the top sweater buttons suggestively undone, lay staring, mouth agape, at Maddy’s shocked and astonished expression.
A closer inspection revealed something off about this almost macabre sight. A slightly unnatural sheen in the suddenly hot light of her living room revealed that this body was not made of flesh, and, as an impudent little poke revealed soon afterwards, not containing bone either.
It was a suit. Made to fit a woman Maddy’s size, to envelope her completely in a new image, utterly dripping with sex.
She felt slightly guilty for the exoticism, but she had little interest in becoming a stereotypical blonde bimbo, and part of the appeal was turning into something completely different. Thin blonde girl to this well endowed vision of lust from the orient tickled a certain part of her mind, and more than tickled a part of her anatomy.
Well there was no point waiting now. After removing her new silicone skin out of its shipping crate she set about the somewhat bizare task of removing the clothes off the suit; a somewhat bizarre courtesy of the Shenzen manufactory it came from- Then on again, she mused, no woman should arrive in America without any clothes onn.
After carefully unwrapping the doted necktie from the body’s neck, as well as the green jumper, she finally got a good look at her body-to-be’s ample bosom. She couldn’t resist a squeeze, and despite the sure presence of silicone implants, the breasts had a hollow cavity. She had a guess as to its function, and had prepared as such. A mischievious grin spread across her face.
After that, off came the houdstooth pencil skirt and with her heart palpating, she flipped over the skin to reveal a tiny seam, running along the back. Hands trembling, she carefully reached for it, feeling for a flap only its intended user would know was there, and found two cold metal zippers.
Other, less obvious “entrance” methods were possible but Maddy was tickled by the artificiality of it. She was intent on shiny metal zippers; two of them. With a purposeful hole punched into both of them. The grin was back.
After tying her short hair and putting on a hair cap, she pulled the zippers apart and embarked into her new body. Legs first, deep into the fulsome hips of her fantasy. She wriggled her toes with tickled excitement as they filled the toes of the suit. Then, finding the sheathes, she inserted, with deep (har har) trepidation into her lower orifices, as the padded behind rose up over her own. She shuddered a bit at this, but complete encasement was the goal, and she wasn’t about to stop now.
Hands then lead the way into the woman’s long nailed hands. She stretched the fingers and, somewhat facetiously, put them into that rize escort two fingered peace sign her asian coworkers and counterparts were so fond of in photos before the mirror. But the image disatisfied her, as Maddy’s slightly freckled face stood incongriously above the body.
The only solution flopped ahead of her chest now. She pushed the silicone bosom closer against her own, letting her nipples fill the cool (though rapidly warming) receptacle built into them to transfer the sensations. After a quick fondle and an unrestrained moan, she reached for the head, opened wide, and pulled it over her face.
A moment of claustrophobia swam over her until her eyes met the pinholes revealing the rest of her living room, set in the unblinking, unmoving pupils of her new identity. She would have gasped, but her mouth had been filled with the rubber mouth of the suit. Tongue inside rubber tongue, teeth inside rubber teeth, lips inside plump, sensuous red lips. She moved her mouth exploringly, and while millions of microperforations in the back of the mouth form allowed air and some liquid to pass through, she couldn’t make much of anything beyond a mumbled moan.
She was gagged, and no one would have known it from afar. The grin came back, but this time with audible squeaking as the rubber stretched and pulled.
Holding back the temptation of looking now, she walked somewhat awkwardly to her downstairs bathroom. There, she turned around, and seeing the difficulty immediately, the home assistant currently docked in power-save mode came to life and zipped her up with one of its dexterious arms. The other, carried out a special macro Maddy had programmed months in advance for this special moment. Reaching for a small padlock it had been taught to know was there long before, it locked the two zippers together.
In her muffled asian silicone cocoon, she didn’t hear the audible click. Instead she waited anxiously for the green light signaling that her assistant was done. She then minced over to her fridge, where inside she found a previously assembled apparatus containing a funnel a tube, and a large bottle of whole milk. Guiltily aware of the bizarreness of this act, she reached for a hidden valve nestled between her cleavage, and set to work filling her breasts with the cold liquid. She shuddered again, but this time for purely innocent, well, relatively innocent, reasons, as the cold spread across her breasts. She gave her artificial nipples a curious squeeze, and a small spray of milk came forth.
She wasn’t just going to be an image of lust, but also of dripping, lactating fertility. After this bizarre ritual, she set about putting back on her silicone secretary’s clothes, with the addition of pantyhose and a pair of fashionable black pumps.
Finally unable to contain her curiousity, she went before her living room mirror again, heels fatuously clicking together, as she stood to attention and for presentation; milk filled breasts misbehaving slightly by continuing to wobble.
She could hardly believe it, and her surprise ankara rus escort would have shown if not for the perpetual lusty expression on her silicone rubber face. Thus, the only indicator was her hot mouth, left agape and drooling. She stared out of lidded eyes at dark brown hair cascading over an oval face with pump rubber lips framed by naughtily expandable cheeks.
Not knowing where to put her hands (at least for now) she let them drift down to her hips. She stuck out her breasts and rubber tongue daringly, like some tarty pop star, before letting it coat her rubber lips with her now free flowing saliva.
The absurdity was palpable. Here she was, a proud career woman, who had earned her masters and worked a rewarding, challenging job and had the respect of her peers, and her deepest fantasy was to become this drooling, rubber secretary, eager to fill her holes with rubber dongs. She then attempted a laugh, but all that came out of her rubber mouth was a muffle gurgle.
After turning up the climate conditioning to ensure she wouldn’t boil alive in her prison of silicone and rubber, she was suddenly beset by the myriad possibilities that awaited her in this sultry oriental body. Her mind drifted to her fantasy of changing identity. Who was this woman that now stood before her? To her shame she couldn’t quite tell if she was Chinese or Japanese; the porn star she was based on was Japanese, but this body she inhabited, her new body, was made in Shenzhen.
But then on again, it was her fantasy, so she decided that her new persona was of mixed nationality; of Chinese extraction but raised in Vietnam. This allowed her to give her identity the name of Phuong, a name she found both beautiful to say and evoked the image of the Phuong from the Quiet American, flighty and uncertain in love and allegiance. For her Phuong was betrothed to a Japanese, Toshiro, whom both their parents objected to. So they fled to America, and here she waited, anxiously, for the return of her love.
Her admittedly overwrought international love fantasy, as cliched as it might be, gave life to the lifeless rubber that enveloped her, and she felt the warm glow return. Reaching a rubber finger into the caress of her artificial vagina, she began to fuck herself, slowly but with quickening pace. She reached under her green jumper and squeezed a silicone breast, spraying now warm milk onto her hardwood floor. She moaned, attempted to cry out the name of her beloved through her rubber mouth as she climaxed.
The conflux of all her deepest desires, to be someone else, to live another life, to be truly loved, to be fucked mercilessly whilst being bound in a silicone bodysuit of an asian sex goddess with breasts filled with milk was too much to bear and she collapsed on her living room floor, drooling saliva and breasts still leaking Grade A whole milk. She would have done anything for Phuong to have her Toshiro right now, and her rubber teeth stretched out into a smile.
Perhaps she shall, she thought. Tonight she’d go to her computer and place another order. But for now, Phuong was a lonely asian girl, lost in strange America. And despite how much she might miss her beloved, there was one underlying truth driving this fantasy. Maddy was feeling very naughty, and she had the weekend off.
© 2014 Dieter Schaumer All Rights Reserved
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32