I need to give a lot of credit to Tang and his story “Merchandise” which was the main inspiration to this story. This is just my interpretation of the same ideas. This is also my first story, and now having written it, I have gained a lot of inspiration to write something a bit more original.
Blue-Lit Room
By TheRealSelfInside
Annika turned the key in the door and heard a click. Pushing it slightly, she stepped in. Sure, it was in the basement of her building, but for the price it was, in the trendy part of town she was in, and for the size, this apartment was a steal. Not only was she paying less than her friends for their apartments, but it also came partially furnished.
As Annika stepped in, she congratulated herself on finding the place. The hardwood floors, the stove, and the ample closet space were enough to attract any young woman. Sure, money was tight at times for a 23 year old recent college grad. But Annika would fight for a place like this. As she stepped in further, she took a look at all the mirrors in her bedroom. She examined her excited self; she was in fair shape, she thought. Sure, there were bustier and fitter woman around, but it had never held her back much. She had always liked her thick dark brown and wavy hair, and she selfishly prized it as the nicest hair amongst her friends. These thoughts were brief, because she quickly noticed the ornate trim on the full length mirror, and thought to herself that if it hadn’t been included as part of the furnishings that came with the place, it would sell for an awful lot at an antique store. Right next to the full length mirror was the door to her new wardrobe. She had always desired a wardrobe since being a little girl and reading “The lion, the Witch…” Her thoughts trailed off as she looked in. Nothing much but hangers and dust dotted the oak walls. It was quite big, though.
Annika closed the door and resigned herself to explore the rest of her place after she had moved more of her stuff in. She figured she must have friends here by now to help, and she shouldn’t keep them waiting.
A couple weeks later, and after being partially settled in, Annika had come to fill her place with furniture and decorations, and it no longer seemed so empty. In fact, her wardrobe was quite full of the clothes that she had collected over the years. Tattered shirts and jeans from thrift stores, skirts and dresses for going to the club, and professional wear for her new full time job blocked the view into the wardrobe much further than a few feet. She had developed an even deeper love for her wardrobe. Something about the depth and darkness made it the most private space she had ever had. She had even taken to hiding her diary in the back, along with other highly personal objects such as her oft used, though infrequently admitted to using, vibrator.
One day Annika was in her wardrobe with a flashlight, scratching notes in her diary about some bitchy new coworker and a cute boy that sat in a cubicle just a few down from hers. A passing thought got into her:
“God, I’m getting old for a diary. How adolescent,” She pondered.
Setting her pen down, she leaned back, allowing her head to rest on the wall. It had been a long day at work. She figured this was why she had such an urge to write in her nearly forgotten diary. As she slumped, her flashlight fell off her lap and shone light on a far wall of the wardrobe.
Staring at the now illuminated far end of the wardrobe, something obvious but peculiar twinkled.
“A doorknob?” Annika noticed.
The small tainted brass handle could not be mistaken. That being said, Annika readily admitted that the doorknob was small, in a dark and hidden location, and no other anomalies were visible on the far wall. No wonder it had not been noticed.
Grabbing the flashlight and standing up, Annika approached the knob. A sense of wonderment and nervousness for what the knob was doing there overcame her. What if it leads to a place in the building she should not enter? If that was the case, then why would they not have warned her? Nevertheless, a small sense of confidence in the privacy of her clothing filled wardrobe slowly enveloped her, and she placed her hand on the knob.
Turning it slightly, Annika could feel it was rusty. With a harder turn, she felt it click open. But it was not until she gave it a healthy tug that it opened. It was almost vacuum sealed, like the door to a refrigerator. As it pulled open, she saw that the door was very well hidden by the woodwork in the wardrobe, as all the seams would appear invisible when the door was closed.
With the door open, Annika pointed her flashlight in. The room beyond was quite different than the one she was in, or at least that’s all she could tell from the dark. In fact, the floor, walls, and ceiling appeared to be a smooth surface such as plastic or glass. Furthermore, the room was round, and maybe ten or fifteen feet in diameter.
With a burning curiosity, Annika stepped in the room. Quickly the door behind her vacuumed shut, and as it closed, the walls lit up with a faint blue, as though they were fluorescing light, making her flashlight obsolete. In the center of the black floor stood a mannequin, and the unexpected sight of it made Annika scream. Realizing that it was not a human, Annika examined it further.
The mannequin was about 5′4″, or about Annika’s height. In fact, it wasn’t much like the typical mannequin at all. It was skin colored, and not in a particularly thin shape, but rather the shape of an attractive but nothing disproportionate girl. Looking down its body, it was impossible to miss that it was wearing shiny black latex leggings. The leggings strained against the mannequin’s legs, and reached up her thigh to about midway between “her” knees and her crotch.
Annika stared in bewilderment. Who had put this here? Why was this bizarre and futuristic room in her wardrobe? Why was the mannequin wearing those leggings? Not that she minded. That is, Annika admitted to herself that the leggings would probably be sexy on her. They were clearly the correct size. It was the sort of thing that she could wear under an otherwise boring skirt to spice things up for the bar. The leggings would show off her legs and the moderate amount of running that she had regimented herself to perform. But it was no excuse for the weirdness of this place. This room was otherwise cavernous. How far tucked underground was it? She figured that the back of her wardrobe was against a foundation wall, so this must be set into it. Was she allowed to be in here?
All of her internal questions seemed to slip by as she remembered that this place was even more secret than the back of her wardrobe. It was behind another very hard to find door. She didn’t have to excuse herself for being here; it was a hidden place and her secret.
Annika noticed that at the far end from where she entered, and opposite the mannequin from herself, there was a clear door, this time holding no secrets. Beyond the clear door was a small rectangular closet. Within it there was one chrome bar for hanging clothes, and from it there was one hanger. Draped of the hanger appeared to be latex. Annika approached the door, opened it, and felt the latex. These were clearly the same leggings that were one the mannequin. If she wanted to wear them, she wouldn’t even have to remove them from the doll.
Feeling a bit safer, Annika slipped off her pants. She felt as though she was in a changing room at a department store. There were no consequences for trying things on. She pulled her socks off and stood there in her T-shirt and panties. It didn’t matter what sort of fetishist had put these here; if they fit her, then she could take them out of this room and into her “normal” apartment and keep them. Exotic clubwear like this was expensive and not an opportunity to pass up.
She pulled them off the hanger and quickly noticed there was no zipper. Curious as to how she could get them on, she tugged at the top opening of one it had stretched a bit, like it had a little elastic to it. She stretched it as much as she could and forced one leg in. It was quite smooth on the inside, she noted. Squeaking her way, one leg was forced into the bottom of the legging with less struggling than she had expected. She quickly followed suit with the other leg.
Standing up in the blue light of the room, Annika noticed the shimmer of her now black legs covered in this latex like material. It was unbelievably sexy, and she knew it. All other leather and latex she had ever seen wrinkled and bent when it was stretched or given slack. This was somehow different. It was more like a second skin, and an incredibly smooth one at that. She rubbed two legs together and noticed virtually no friction and imagined how happy a boy toy might feel between these flawless legs. Flawless. That was the word for the way her legs now looked. The tautness of the material held her muscles up to make them look more toned. She had to see this in a mirror.
Annika pushed open the door from which she entered and the blue lit walls turned off. Undeterred, she closed the door and walked through her wardrobe, feeling almost graceful as she glided as though she did not need to tell her legs to move. In the full length mirror, the leggings looked just as wonderful. Thoughts of which skirt she could wear these under came to mind, and she eventually removed them. Setting them in the back of her wardrobe where nobody else would see them, she thought to herself that as strange as that room was, at least it gave her these leggings. She figured there wasn’t much more reason to go back in there.
Annika was not done with the leggings though. Excited from the fashion show, she slipped them back on and grabbed her vibrator. Heading back to her bed outside of the wardrobe, she flicked the gyrating phallus on, and proceeded to pleasure herself to orgasm, all the while thinking about her sexy legs. When done, she filed the leggings and the vibrator into her wardrobe, and went to sleep, un-perplexed by the erotic room still attached to her secret location.
Weeks went by for Annika with no more thoughts about the leggings or the room at the back of her wardrobe other than a few daydreams of what she might wear along with the latex stockings. Such daydreams were finally fulfilled one Friday night when Annika’s college friends invited her along to a nightclub. Rummaging through her wardrobe for something sexy to pick up in, she could not find anything inspiring. Picking up a black and rather thin T shirt, a white mid-length skirt, she felt a ping of inspiration. Working her way to the back of the wardrobe, Annika found her leggings as she had left them. “These would look perfect with a black top and white bottom, like a maid might wear,” she justified. In a small bit of disbelief, she even noted that the door knob at the back was still there. Annika quickly slipped on the leggings and assembled the rest of her clothing without much thought as to how the latex like material felt against her legs.
The night went by quickly and with a bit too much drinking. Feeling lonely for not picking up (although had she really tried it would have been easy) and still a bit buzzed, Annika sulked out of the taxi and into her room. The whole night she had danced away and not once noticed her legs get tired. For that matter, she noted, she even busted out moves that she didn’t know she had. At times it even felt like somebody else was dancing in her skin. It was a great time. Nevertheless, she was now alone in her apartment, and the pleasure of the leggings was only a consolation for her amazing ability to fumble her words around boys while drunk. She started taking off her clothes until she was naked except for the leggings. Looking in the mirror, she had to note how flawless it made her legs look. Then the obvious thought hit her. What else might be in store in the far back room? With her inhibitions lowered, Annika sleekly walked to the doorknob at the back of her wardrobe wearing nothing but the leggings.
Annika quickly approached the doorknob. In fact, she didn’t even remember approaching that quickly. “I must be quite drunk” she blamed.
The room was exactly as she remembered it, although the blue light seemed dim compared to the strobe lights at the clubs she had just visited. On the mannequin this time there was more than just leggings. Annika looked in amazement as she observed the mannequin decorated with both the mid-thigh latex socks, but also latex gloves reaching to halfway between “her” elbow and her shoulder. Annika approached closer without thinking to do so. She took a dizzy stare at the gloves and noticed they were otherwise identical to the leggings that both she and the mannequin donned.
Annika had consumed a few too many drinks to consider the creeper that keeps on entering her apartment and dressing this doll in some futuristic changing room. Instead, her mind leapt to how amazing she would look with the gloves on as well. “My arms could look as toned as my legs” she pondered almost aloud. Before her next thought could come to her, she was already standing in front of the glass covered closet on the far end of the blue-lit room. It took only the slightest bit of curiosity for Annika to open the glass door and take the gloves off of the hanger.
“I am going to love these on my body, I can tell already.”
And without much thought going into it at all, Annika was standing in front of her mirror in the wardrobe. She figured she must be a little too intoxicated to have really considered where she was going before stumbling to exactly this spot. Little did she know how gracefully she had actually approached her own reflection.
Standing in front of the mirror and holding the long latex gloves, Annika slipped them on still acting with lowered inhibitions and much curiosity. They slid on exactly like the leggings had, and she couldn’t help but admit that they made her look drop dead sexy. The sleek reflective black latex material over her toned limbs framed what was a sexy body looking back at her. “Too bad no boys came home to this!” she exclaimed.
Noticing how soft both the leggings and the gloves felt, and finally starting to feel the need to sleep off the alcohol, Annika turned her head to look at her bed. “I could even use that vibrator again” she considered while she yawned.
But something stopped her when she tried to move her body toward her comfortable sheets. Slightly alarmed, she stood statuesque and turned her head to look back at the mirror. Noting that she seemed to have lost control of her latex-clad appendages, she started to dance as though she was in the club again. In fact, better than she had danced in the club. Now slightly panicked, she raised her black shiny arms and busted out a move that she knew she could not have physically performed on her own.
The adrenaline that hit her was sobering, to say the least. Now her suspiciously light and efficient leg muscles seemed to make sense. The fact that she was not particularly tired after dancing all night started to come to light. And even why she felt that she was walking to locations within her own apartment without intending to do so, it too seemed to have a reason. In her less and less fuzzy mind, the latex stockings were the culprit. And now alone with such a terrifying realization, her arms were already under control of the mysterious clothing. In fact, it seemed that with the gloves on, her control over her own legs was less. And as this realization came to her, her arms came up to her breasts and unconsciously squeezed them to show off a surprising amount of cleavage. There was no doubt now. Annika gasped, preparing to let out the best scream she could.
When she found one hand shoved into her mouth, preventing her from taking in any more air.
She bit down on the sinister latex adornment. Yet, she felt no pain in her arm. Apparently the evil latex material was also quite strong and resistant to her teeth. And then it took control again. With one hand still gagged in her mouth, Annika’s legs betrayed her in the same way they did during her dance in front of the mirror. While her legs took control, they urgently sauntered her to the doorknob to the secret room. The one hand remained in her mouth, against which she tried to moan loudly, but it was too muffled for anybody even just outside of her wardrobe to have heard. Her other arm now also betrayed her intent, lifted up and swiftly turned the knob, opening the door and again revealing the blue lit room.
Without control, Annika’s legs moved her inside the room and the door closed and vacuum sealed behind her. Her gagging arm dropped to her side and she screamed at the absolute top of her lungs, but sadly her high-tech blue-lit capsule didn’t let out any sound. Realizing she still had control of her neck, head, torso, and waist, she thrashed as hard as she could, but her suddenly invincibly powerful legs and arms kept her balanced and standing, more or less in the same position. Annika fought for minutes like this before the exhaustion of a wrestler set in. Her breathing rose and dropped her chest as she gasped for air and finally gave up. She was in her latex bonds now. For the time being, they had won the battle. She must try and win the war. Taking in air and sweating slightly, she turned her head and looked forward.
In her panic and fury, Annika had not taken a careful look at the ever-present mannequin. What stood before her astonished her for the last time. The doll was now wearing far more black latex than before. In fact, other than lacking latex on its head, the statue now displayed only a strip of “skin” on each leg, each arm, and across its midriff. Annika’s eyes started near the bottom of the body, one more time noticing how shapely the leggings made the lower extremities look. When she peered at the top of the leggings, there was maybe an inch of “skin” above the leggings before the start of the bottom of the latex boy shorts. Without any guilt, she gazed at the latex clad hips of the mannequin. She noticed the crotch, in which there seemed to be some sort of slit, which she knew must be and access location. She also noticed that the boy shorts had the same form shaping effects as the gloves and the leggings. The mannequin looked squeezed in such a way that he hips were slightly wider, her butt slightly larger and more taught, and at the top of the shorts, the waist was somewhat constricted, giving a significantly more voluptuous shape to the lower body.
Again without control, but this time with a lack of a will to fight, Annika stepped up toward the mannequin before she had a chance to consider the t-shirt type latex confinement on the doll. When Annika got closer, she noticed that the shorts ended just below the navel, and just above the navel was where the “shirt” started. Similarly to the shorts, it too was slightly constricted at the waist, giving the mannequin a more hourglass figure, much in the same way a corset would. And, similarly to a corset, the doll’s extra body was pushed upward into the constricted latex t-shirt to enhance its bust. It looked as though the latex t-shirt was like a permanent push-up bra, and indeed the statue appeared to have breasts maybe two cup sizes larger than they would normally be, and far perkier. “But how can a mannequin have a push up effect if it is just solid material, and not flesh” Annika wondered. But before she even finished the thought, her hands moved against her will and squeezed the breasts of the doll. They were as squishy as any human flesh could be expected to be when pushed up and constricted within tight latex. The nipples stuck out hard, and Annika’s thumbs flicked them, before retreating. The last item to look at was the shoulders, which were shaped in latex as well, somewhat pulled back to present the ample breasts. The sleeves ended maybe about one inch above where the gloves began.
Somehow Annika began to realize this was her fate. There was so much to consider still, and so many questions, and so many panicked emotions. Yet she was quite aware that her arms and her legs intended to dress her in this very same way. The next logical step was that she would lose control of those body parts as well, leaving her effectively totally in the control of this latex costume, save for her head. She began to whimper as she regretted ever wanting to look like the mannequin. She knew that had she never entered the blue-lit room or put on the leggings, she would still be free. Now, it appeared, she was fighting a losing battle, and would soon be enslaved by her own desire. Before she could finish the thought, she was standing in front of the glass door with the hip huggers and the cropped top waiting inside. She gave one last fight against her arms and legs, but still feeling exhausted from the last bout, she gave up even faster this time.
Without hesitation, her arms pulled on both items in the closet, and they constricted and sealed to Annika’s skin. Her bust was presented, now much more weight on her upper chest just like in a corset. Her waist was squeezed to a sexy middle. Her “ass” (how she now suddenly thought of it) was larger and her hips wider. The latex was as pliable as the last couple of times, and frankly, even more comfortable. As it constricted further, she felt her shoulders pull pack to push out her chest. But somehow she was still supported and comfortable. Her ass helped out, and pulled back, pushing her chest out further, and of course, presenting her behind to anybody who might be approaching her from that direction.
And of course, her whole body was now in control of the vile latex-fetish attire. To her surprise, it had more control that she thought. While she had assumed that it would require some sort of head dress to control her neck and face, it appeared that the suit in unison had further jurisdiction than the items would alone. Thus, only her eyes and eyelids remained moveable.
Annika was a foreigner in her own body now. With virtually no control of the movements it made, she simply experienced the life it was living on its own. The latex attire was her new being, carrying her old soul along for the ride as she was forced to erotically slink out of the blue-lit room and back to her mirror. She was mortified on the inside of having been stripped of control of her body, yet somehow, deep down, she felt something else stirring as well. Was it arousal? “No, it can’t be” she thought idly within her erotic vessel. But she wasn’t wrong. She just hated to admit it. She knew she looked stunning in what she was wearing, even if it was far deeper than she had ever delved into the rabbit hole. Feeling sexy always turned her on, but there was something more. The latex was comfortable, soft, and made her feel sleek and strong at the same time. It was like it was caressing her entire body. And somehow, when she tried to push the thoughts out, they kept coming back. With the final few steps to the mirror, she even noticed that her vagina has moistened itself, and the slit of latex had bonded with her labia, leaving her with a vagina that was otherwise latex on the outside.
Stepping up in front of the mirror this time, her body wasted no time in starting to dance. Yet this time it was far “dirtier.” Annika observed her own body writhe like a stripper. The fear and hate insider her was slowly being replaced by intrigue. And while moving like a pro, she was getting extremely aroused. It couldn’t be ignored anymore. Annika liked something about this, and she couldn’t put her uncontrollable finger on it. It must have been the latex, now somehow infiltrating her brain. She wouldn’t have liked this in her normal life, but observing such a sexy woman moving so erotically, it became impossible to ignore. She still couldn’t fully admit it, but she liked it. She felt, looked, and moved sexy. She was soaked.
Again without hesitation, her body planted itself in front of the mirror and began rubbing her now latex-covered clit. Emotionally stunned, Annika felt movement after movement of intense pleasure as she watched herself masturbate. The inside of the latex felt like a well experienced tongue on her clit, and she quickly gave in to a shivering orgasm. Annika was enjoying not controlling her body and experiencing this, but she hated herself for it. It was undeniable.
Unfinished, her body grabbed her vibrator and turned it on. Just as though she was a world class porn star, Annika’s body began giving a show to the mirror while fucking herself with the moving phallus. On the inside, Annika was extremely embarrassed yet aroused and admitted she didn’t want this to stop. Her embarrassment led to blushing, which somehow looked even sexier during her show to herself. Just like in a hardcore scene, the latex fetish model spread her legs to the mirror, pounded herself with the vibrator, and began rubbing her clit with the other hand. Another earth shaking orgasm took over her, and for the first time, Annika had to try to fight the thought that she may enjoy this life.
Standing up, her body approached the blue-lit room again. This time Annika expected to see the mannequin dressed different, although she didn’t know how it would look. She figured that she was along for the ride anyway.
As Annika’s body entered the room and the door sealed behind her, she observed a mannequin that looked exactly like herself. Except somehow it was even more beautiful. The mannequin now looked like a real woman, with Annika’s dark brunette hair, full lips and cute nose, the same skin color, everything. Yet there were enhancements, and somehow Annika knew these would be made to her as well.
The mannequin now had bright green eyes as opposed to Annika’s brown ones. And those eyelashes! They were long and thick, just like Annika had always dreamed of (admitting deep inside again some guilty envy). In the statue’s lifelike navel there was now a piercing with a cute azure colored gem. And what the figure now wore around the neck needed little explanation. The top of the shirts’ latex now came up to form a turtle neck of latex, and around it was wrapped a thick latex collar with a D-ring on the front. Although Annika had never observed fetish culture before, she was aware of what a collar with a ring on the front may imply.
And yet she was aroused again. The mannequin looked like a far more beautiful version of herself. She couldn’t deny it. And now she wanted it for herself. A part of her admitted “if going for a joy ride, might as well be in a nice car.”
And so her body approached the closet and adorned the finishing touches. She put on the lashes which melded with her own eyelids. She put in the bright green colored contacts, which burned at first as they permanently adhered to her native lenses. She picked up the piercing and jabbed it into her small bit of skin, hurting far less than she had expected. Finally, she slipped on the latex collar as it formed a turtle neck and adhered to her skin. As the collar clasped permanently closed, she felt different. At peace. Excited, even. For that matter, she was aroused again, knowing that she matched the mannequin. The collar caused a change in her. If she had to describe it in one word, she felt “submissive.” She would obey this outfit, or whoever controlled it. And she would enjoy obeying it. She wanted to be controlled. A ping of pity and guilt in this revelation remained, but the pleasures far outweighed the costs now of losing her former life. She turned around to face her future, whatever that may be.
Annika stared at her doppelganger, what was once the mannequin. The mannequin had left its post in the center of the room and was facing her from near the entrance door. Annika’s body now stepped to the center of the room, and what had been her private statue spoke to her, in her own voice, “pose as me.”
Annika’s body took the position the mannequin had held just minutes before and froze there. Annika watched as the former statue now opened the entrance door, revealing now what was another blue-lit room, but far larger. Waiting in the entrance were two men in suits.
One said to more attractive one “and here is your replicant in our state of the art ‘development’ room.”
The mannequin, or as Annika now knew, her “replicant” stepped out between the men. The attractive man responded: “Perfect, she’s just as I specified her!” and then handed the other gentleman his credit card.
Annika could not help but blush again in embarrassment for being caught like this. In fact, blushing seemed like the only part of her body she could still control. She didn’t intend to be seen like this. She continued to observe the scene before her.
“So, she will do whatever I want?”
“Yes, of course. And because she is a replicant, she will never age and will always appear this way.”
“What happens to the identical one standing in that room,” he pointed at Annika, the now mannequin.
“Oh, we use the original copies to help make our next replications. It’s very complicated. I could show you in the museum room how it works…”
“Not right now,” the attractive one stated, “I think I will try her out first.”
Then with a commanding and assertive voice, he addressed Annika’s replicant: “You are my slave and will do anything I command you to.”
The replicant replied “Of course, master.”
“Perfect, now, give me your best head.”
The Annika replicant now sank to her knees, and Annika the mannequin now watched without any other choice. Although she liked watching it. She loved it. The latex attire was in control now, both of her body, and her mind. Watching a replication of herself sooth a master was both arousing and entertaining, not to mention educational. The replicant unzipped the man’s pants to reveal his engorged erection. Batting her eyes with her lengthened eyelashes and beautiful face, she gazed up at her master with complete servitude. She stuck out her tongue and licked the underside of his member, sending him visibly into ecstasy.
Just as the show was getting good, and Annika the mannequin incredibly aroused, the door closed and sealed and the blue light dimmed. She would wait there for the next victim, whom she would replicate in order to become another master’s slave. And now she couldn’t be more excited.