The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

One of those mornings. Again.

It had been a long week, a boring week. Lots of work, little satisfaction. After coming home on Friday night, he had just dropped onto his bed, watching some “House, M.D.", then dozed off, called it a night and fell asleep.

The weekend didn’t look too promising. Nothing much to be done, apart from some grocery shopping, though the garden could use some mowing and hedge trimming. He decided he would at least spice the shopping up for himself a bit. Looking through the stuff in his closet, he chose the T-shirt and tight jeans, and the latex suit for underneath ...

Carl had been into rubber and lycra for many years already. It had started out with some spandex running tights and a bathing suite he had snatched from the girls’ locker room during his long-gone school days, nowadays he was up to a sizeable stock of all kind of clothing items made from latex, neoprene or lycra, with an occasional shiny body-stocking or leather pants in between. He loved it, as long as it clung to the skin and showed off his body. Not really muscular, nor fat, just an average body.

With his average body and average looks, combined with a rather shy demeanour, it wasn’t really easy for him to find a nice girl. Somehow, all the nice ones ended up with some jerk, and the really hot ones didn’t give him a first much less a second glance. His hopes were pretty low, especially for someone who’d also enjoy his love for those kind of fetish clothes.

Getting into the latex suit was an easy task for him. Though he wasn’t in the mood for rubber that often, he had overcome the troubles of putting it one long ago. The suit was a long-legged, short sleeve suit with a zipper halfway down the back, black and shiny, thick rubber that would give him the tight feeling during his shopping.

Pushing his already erect private part into the pant-half of the suit, he wiggled into the top and closed the zipper, exhaling while he did, and then enjoying the tightness of the suit for a minute. Though somewhat flexible, the thick rubber (somewhere around 1mm thick) hardly gave in or moulded to the body, but rather forced the body into its unforgiving shell. Walking was harder, with all the pressure applied, plus the almost solid exoskeleton the suit was made bending his joints strenuous.

The jeans were almost hard to get on, but he knew they showed off his behind and now toned-looking legs. Luckily, no such problem with putting on the T-shirt. Grabbing his billfold, change and PDA he headed for his car, making a bee-line to the nearest shopping center.

It was still early on Saturday morning, so packing the groceries he needed for the next couple days was a quick task. The shopping list wasn’t too long, and soon the cart contained everything written down.

Heading for the checkouts, he looked for his favourite cashier, Silkey. Almost a foot shorter than him, with long, hazel colour hair, nice rack on top (he guessed something like a 32C) and usually dressed in form-fitting pants, showing off her well-rounded behind. From earlier chats, he knew she was a divorced mother of a now 10-year old girl, making her living off of one and a half jobs, cashier being the “half” one. She was usually working on weekend mornings, and he had made a habit out of choosing her lane, even if it was the longest (which gave him more time of enjoying the view).

This morning, though, he seemed to be out of luck. She was nowhere in sight, with only 3 cash registers open. So he reluctantly chose the self-service lane, saving him from either a chat with an overweight broad at one of them, or the two dimple-faced schoolboys at the other two.

On his way home he decided to take a detour and stop by the adult store, hoping for some eye candy or maybe some new pieces of clothing or toys he could pick up. Pulling up the driveway, he noticed the place had some scaffolding on the front, with two workers busy getting new paint on the not really dirty walls. He hadn’t been there for a couple weeks, but was surprised to see a (considering the contents) surprisingly small “Grand Reopening” sign on the door. The big neon sign was gone (probably due to the remodelling), a new sign, about double the size of a “Legal” size sheet of paper was already hung up on the already finished left half of the building, made of brass, and stating “Specialty Clothing and Accessories”, together with the address, phone number and opening times. He was about to turn around and leave, expecting the “grand opening” not to be until a couple days later, with all the work in progress, when the door opened.

When he first saw her, his brain just seemed to go blank. She was not the beauty you find in fashion magazines or glamour shots, not flawless nor did she have a “perfect” body. But the overall view, her stance, her aura, just made him stand there in awe, mouth open, and unable to think or move. Long black, shiny hair that fell almost to her hips, delicate arms and fingers, well-rounded breasts, shapely legs that were dressed in stockings so shiny they almost looked like a mirror, high-heel boots that covered the lower half of her legs, and wearing a shiny white, tight-fitting mini-dress, which accentuated all of the above.

She almost glided up to him, hips swaying hypnotically, with a smile that could have made the sun jealous. Her dark-red painted, glossy lips moved, but it took him a moment to notice that she was actually talking to him.

“... will be opening officially next week, but if you would like to, you can come on in for a quick peek. But only if you promise not to complain, I’m not all the way done setting up yet!”

Not waiting for a reply, she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the entrance. Though slowly coming to from something like a coma, he just followed, still not having uttered anything intelligible.

It took him a short moment to adjust to the rather dark interior. The formerly tightly packed racks and stands were gone, no more DVDs or adult magazines, no cheap, overprized plastic toys in view anymore. The walls sported erotic drawings and paintings, which were definitely rated well beyond PG, but were not the usual trash, but rather works of art. There were well-placed stands and displays, showing off different kinds of outfits, either on clothes hangers, or fashion dolls. This place no longer looked like the XXX-store it had been, but almost like the fetish-counterpart of Victoria’s Secrets.

“So, do you like it?” Sharia, as she had introduced herself, asked. “I took over from the former owner two weeks ago, just moved here from north of Boston a month ago. I didn’t like the weather there, nor the neighbours. From what I can tell, both should be better here ...”

“Yup” was all he could muster, still taking in the varying styles of pieces of clothing on display. Some women’s items would probably not be suited (or legal) for being worn outside your home (or some “establishment”), while others could probably pass for a high-class cocktail dress or formal attire (until you moved in closer and saw the combination and types of materials used, as well as some minor “details”).

Sharia was pointing out some details of the items he was looking at, but apart from his subconscious noticing that there was somebody speaking, he was not really hearing what she was saying. He was just to amazed by what he was seeing, his imagination running wild, picturing Silkey in some of the outfits he looked at.

He didn’t know if it was her first attempt, but somehow he noticed Sharia had asked him a question. Looking at her with wide eyes, he muttered “Excuse me?”

“Is there any specific style you are particularly fond of?” she repeated.

Almost embarrassed, he answered “primarily latex clothing” with only a small delay.

“For you yourself, or your wife?”—“I’m not married,” he hastily replied, “single at the moment”, as if he would have any chance with a “10” like her.

“OK, any specifics, heavy or thin rubber, style, color, ... ?” she continued.

Not wanting to embarrass himself any further, and without any idea what he could (or should) expect, he just answered “Why don’t you just show me something interesting?”

“Give me a second, I don’t have too many latex pieces on display yet ...” she said, heading through a curtain in the rear of the store.

This gave him the chance to finally compose himself some. When he had pulled up, he had expected the usual, old adult store that he knew for years. He was just not prepared for what awaited him. Now, standing in this amazing store, what he saw had blown him away; not only the clothes, but also Sharia. He hadn’t planned on buying any major new outfit, and by the looks of the stuff here (none of which had a price sticker), everything probably called for plastic money.

Running wouldn’t make sense. While he did feel intimidated by Sharia (and the ambience of the store), there was no danger in just waiting for her, letting her show him what she had, then just excuse himself and leave. After all, he did enjoy the view of her. A lot.

He continued walking by the exhibits, when he heard rustling of the curtain. “Here you go ... let’s see if we can’t find something that you will ... enjoy ...”

He turned, noticing lots of black rubber over her left arm. He couldn’t make out what all she had there, as it just looked like one giant rubber pile.

“Won’t you have a seat, I’ll show you some things you might like” she said, pointing towards a comfortable couch nearby. She stacked the items on a chair, carefully pulling the top one from the top.

“This is a tuxedo-style jacket, very heavy latex, about 1/16th of an inch thick, but as you can see it’s very flexible and soft. Very unlike other products you will find with this thick a latex.”

He was tempted to confirm that, with reference to the suit he was in right now, sweating more than usual though the room had A/C, but decided not to.

“It will give the wearer a very convincing attitude, its cut and style just makes people comply with anything you say,” she continued. Pointing out to some details of the piece, and showing him the pair of pants that went with it, she then continued with the next piece.

“This is a special suit, made for sportsmen—or women—it enhances your endurance and strength.” She moved in closer, giving him a better view at this short-legged, muscle-shirt top one-piece suit. “As you can see it looks to be black, but in the sunlight, it appears to be just like most of the other suits, used for track, triathlon, and the likes. You pick the sport, it will be perfect for it. OK, most sports”, she said, pronouncing the last word very deliberately, and adding a twinkle of her eye to it.

This went on for a couple of different pieces, with Sharia giving certain and unusual details for every one. When she was through, though enjoying the clothing (and the presenter) very much, he didn’t see anything that really stood out.

“Thank you very much, you do have a very impressive collection, but nothing really fits my taste. Though they are nice, they are more or less just regular—albeit interesting—pieces of clothing..” he started.

He didn’t notice it, but at the word “regular”, Sharia’s complexion almost turned three shades darker. Still with a professional, courteous tone, she urged him to wait another minute, “I think I have just the piece for you.", heading out through the curtain again. Taking a closer look at the items presented to him, he noticed that the latex clothing was of very high quality. Whereas cheap latex stuff was usually just moulded from a single piece (with the corresponding bad looks and pressed side or center lines), and higher priced usually consisted of multiple pieces, glued and vulcanized to form the final piece of clothing, these looked like they had been tailored, only that there were no traces of stitches or gluing. No imperfections were visible, just a perfect, shiny latex surface.

“OK, here we go. And I tell you what—I’m so confident that you will love this, that I will let you have it for two weeks. Try it on, try it out—I bet you will be hooked. You will love its looks, you will love what it does for and to you. You won’t want to take it off!”

After all of the more or less unusual articles she had presented before, this one sort of disappointed him. It was a leggings kind of latex pants, with feet, and—as Sharia slowly presented the other side—an anatomically correct container for his private parts, making sure they wouldn’t really be private anymore. He touched it, noticing it being very soft and presumably made from very thin latex.

“Go ahead, take it. Just leave me your number, but I trust that you will be back, and I’m pretty sure it won’t be to return it! Just make sure you’re certain in what you choose to do while you wear it. Some things might be irreversible ... and if you don’t like it, don’t wear it too long...” she ended, handing him the pants and slowly pushing him towards the exit. He gave her his name and phone number, which she didn’t write down, and before he knew it he was back out on the parking lot, with a pair of rubber pants in his hand ...

His thoughts were whirling around his head—intermingled with the picture of Sharia, her scent, the impressions of the shop, were the strange descriptions of the clothing items she had presented—descriptions which in retrospect almost sounded like a mixture of promise and warning. And now this—a rather simple leggings/tights, made of thin rubber—nothing special apart from the attached condom-like sheath. And as such, not that unusual either. And what was that with decisions? And not wearing it too long—well, that was understandable, if he was going to return it, it would have to be in rather new condition for her to be able to sell it again...

Time flew, before he knew it he had reached his home. One of his friends, Mark, was waiting in front of the driveway, forcing Carl to push the tell-tale rubber-clothing underneath the passenger seat quickly before he pulled in. Through all the excitement at the shop he had almost forgotten that he had promised to give Mark a hand with his car. No harm done, he just headed inside to stow away the groceries, then headed off with his friend for a Saturday afternoon of oil, dust and beer.

After a (halfway successful) afternoon and evening, and not really a “dry” night, the rest of the weekend wasn’t too eventful. By Monday morning, Carl had all but thought of the rubber surprise in his car, heading into another week.

By Wednesday, he noticed he had almost forgotten about his encounter—he took the leggings inside with him as he got home at night, taking a closer look at them. As with the other pieces he had inspected at the shop, this also looked not like it had been mass-produced, but a lot more delicate and precise. Almost as if someone had been dipped into latex, so detailed was the looks of the legs and behind. These rubber pants would be a tight fit from the looks of it, and although it was soft, the latex seemed thicker than most of the regular stuff he had—and definitely thicker than he had expected from the way it felt. In fact, it almost felt slightly silky. He was tempted to try it on, but was able to resist. He much rather wanted to enjoy a whole day—or weekend—of it, so he stored it for Saturday.

The rest of the week passed rather slowly, as meetings and organizational topics bored Carl to death—while his brain increasingly often found an escape by returning to the encounter at the sex shop. The clothes, the woman, her strange descriptions of the clothes ... he just couldn’t piece it all together. Odd, fascinating, maybe even a bit scary ...

After sleeping in late, Carl awoke refreshed and ready. After a quick shower and a shave, it was time ... going to his “special” closet, he grabbed the latex pants. Again, he was astonished how soft yet heavy it was. He sat down on the bed, starting to roll up on of the legs in order to pull it on as he usually did. The silky feeling also was there on the inside. Was this even rubber he wondered. When he started to put in his foot, it slid in without the usual sticking and budging. Even though the foot-piece didn’t look like his foot would fit without stretching the material, he hardly felt it on him—one of the major turn-ons he had with latex seemed to be missing, being encased in a tight, pressing shell. None the less, he continued pulling up the rubber, then continuing with the other leg. Strangely, the whole “ordeal” it usually was putting on latex pants like these wasn’t any at all. He already had the pants up both his legs, preparing to fill the condom and sack with his privates. From another suit he’d had some time ago, he knew it could be slightly painful to get ‘em in, so he had prepared and used some oil on his penis. Starting to push it in, it was more like “holding it back”, as with his feet and legs, the pants almost felt like they were sucking him in. That done, he pulled the rest of the pants up, which went just below his navel. Again he had to wonder about the size, as it had been clearly shorter when he held it up to himself before—expecting to have to stretch it quite a bit. Once completely dressed in it, it felt like the whole pants were getting somewhat tighter—more like what the usual latex pieces felt like, though not as tight and unyielding as rubber this thick usually was.

He looked at himself in the mirror—his lower half now consisted of a shiny, black surface, reflecting everything in the room like a mirror. Unlike his other gear, this was already looking great without any polishing. And it made him look hot. His legs seemed a lot more muscular than they actually were (even considering the pants must be tighter than they felt), and his dick—well, he didn’t want to spoil what he subjectively estimated, but it looked a good two or three inches longer ... touching the latex, he felt it being filled to the tip, so it must only be looking that way.

Going through his closet, he looked for a pair of pants that would not show off the hard-on he had as much (which would be hard to stuff into any pair of pants without having a “2-women-tent” show in front). He picked one of the few relaxed-fit ones he still had from before he had lost some weight, which were too lose for his taste, but would be the only ones to accommodate his current state. Still, his penis felt a lot stronger, it being hard to actually push down enough to fit into his right pants leg.

Of course, it still showed up very clearly, so he decided to go with a rather long T-shirt he used for running, covering up most of the sight, as long as he didn’t move too much or somebody looked to closely.

Getting into the car was a bit uncomfortable, and would have looked a bit awkward. He would have to watch where he parked his car at the supermarket, as getting back out would most likely not look much more elegant either.

His ride to the supermarket was rather uneventful, if you didn’t count the constant pressure he felt, and the continuous feeling of his latex-packed penis rubbing inside the jeans with every move of his leg. Still he managed to make it through town without getting too aroused or too distracted. Parking slightly further away from the entrance, he was able to fold himself out of the car without anybody noticing. Making sure his shirt was down to hide as much as possible of the seemingly ever increasing hard-on, he made his way to the entrance.

He grabbed a cart and went through his shopping list in his mind, when his eyes fell on a particularly cute ass in a particularly tight pair of jeans, moving seductively on a set of very nice legs. From the absence of a panty line—which no doubt would have showed with any regular kind of undies—he deducted that she must be wearing either a G-string ... or nothing underneath. The jeans were pretty low-cut, and the light summer top she wore was short enough to offer him a view of some sun-tanned skin every other step she made, but if only she’d bend over to check out some merchandise on the lower part of the shelf, he thought to himself ... chances were he’d get some certainty ...

... at which exact moment, the pretty pair of legs bent, rest of her following, taking a look at some boxes of cookies. The jeans stretched over the ever-more rounding behind, still not exposing anything that would lead to positive proof of nothing or barely nothing. “A little further down” he joked in his thoughts, answered by her almost kneeling to reach for a different box. Finally, the jeans couldn’t contain the pressure her round cheeks caused and slid down even further, exposing the hint of fabric, or rather three black “threads” running together at the top of her crack, a really flimsy (and hot) excuse for underwear.

His primary viewing goal achieved, he took a moment to examine what else was connected upward from that very hot view. The top she wore seemed to be pretty thin, and tight-cut, exposing an almost hour-glass figure, with a faint trace of the outlines of a bra visible through the thin, skin-clinging material. About from where the bottom part of the bra line was, curly blonde hair ended, appearing like a waterfall from the top of her head. On the sides of her torso he was able to see the outlines of her breasts protruding slightly outward from her otherwise rather slender body, promising a pretty decent rack. On the top of her head, a pair of mirrored sun glasses rested almost like a little crown. They were the sports type, used for running or cycling, not the stylish kind you’d mostly see. He thought about how to inconspicuously get a view of her face, hoping it would match the rest of her appearance. Not really noticing it, he was now within some five to six feet. With the conclusion of her turning around would of course be the least obvious way, she suddenly turned around, almost startling him in the process, when she was reaching for some cans she had already passed bye.

The view of her face fulfilled his wishes ... no doubt, it really was a good match for the rest of her body, of which he had just about full view now. Oval face, just slight makeup around her eyes, which were jade-green and had a hint of an almond-shape. Her mouth was almost a tad small for the face, but with nice lips, touched up with a thin layer of pink lipstick. Her nose was cute—small, with a slightly upturned tip. Satisfied with that part of her, a quick glance further south confirmed his guess about her breasts—well rounded, just perfectly sized in that very small corridor between “perfect” and “slightly too big”, which was labeled “god made these just for me”. “She’s hot” he thought, noticing her nipples straining the material of bra and top, creating two very visible tents in the almost hazy material of her top, which he hadn’t noticed at first sight.

All the time still moving towards her, as if hypnotized by the look, he was able to stop just short of running his cart into her. All thoughts were wiped from his brain when the two seconds were over that had passed since she had turned around; their eyes met his for a short moment while she turned back around to face her cart and continue shopping. He just stood there, gazing at her swaying ass, moved by her legs, which ended in slender feet in—as he now noticed—3 inch heeled sandals. If only she’d be back here next week for him to meet her again ... He was almost mesmerized, until she turned at the end of the shelf and went on to the next aisle, out of his sight, though not his mind.

He noticed the slight inconvenience caused by his seemingly evermore stiffening member, using the shopping cart for covers he tried to get his mind back onto the chores at hand, shopping ...

Having enjoyed this “show”, his mood was great. His shopping went quickly, and when he finally neared the checkout counters, his heart jumped when another nice view finally made his day: Silkey was at lane 7, which of course was where he headed.

Today her looks were a special treat: bare midriff with a short halter top and—from the looks—corsage bra underneath, and a extremely tight, low cut jeans, which looked more like a leggings than a pair of jeans. While he was still pretty much stiff from his encounter with the hotty when he arrived, seeing her seemed to even increase his erection, becoming almost painful. Watching her scan the other customers’ shopping items, he was imagining running his hand over the bare skin of her belly, which showed signs of goose-bumps. When he continued to move his hands further up and over her breasts in his mind, he noticed her stop all movements for a moment, her eyes fluttering shortly, then continuing her work. She really was cute. He imagined running his hands over her ass, between her legs, tickling her clit. Silkey shifted her weight, clenching her legs together, and appeared slightly shaky. He almost started to worry about her, wasn’t she feeling well today?

Silkey shook her head, then looked at him with a smile. “Hi, are you today?” she asked, followed by “Will that be all?” after quickly scanning the hand full of food products he had put on the belt. “Yes, thank you!” he replied, picturing some hot sex with her.

Taking the money from him, Silkey’s cleavage area seemed to blush visibly, while she seemed to have trouble counting the change. “Here you are, have a nice day” she was barely able to say, noticeably slower and slightly out of breath. Carl just wondered what was wrong with her today.

Getting back home shortly later, he took care of some chores at home, until the late afternoon, when he got his mind back to his latex pants. Pulling of his pair of regular pants, he admired the looks of this seemingly normal pair of rubber pants. They just fit phantastically, even bending his legs didn’t result in any wrinkles or anything, they just looked like a black, shiny skin. His hard-on was still there, after all the hours, and he wondered how he’d even held out this long without jacking off once (or rather multiple times) all day.

They still felt great, too—he didn’t even seem to be “swimming” around in them either, as he usually did after an hour or so of wearing the other latex suits or pants. With feet attached, he was usually sweating enough to have a quarter cup of water in the rubber feet by now. In these, he felt as if he had just put them on. He turned slightly in front of the mirror, judging the look of his shiny behind, and wondering about the seemingly grown dick in front. The pants really made him look great, from the feet all the way over his belly button, where his “normal” skin continued.

Later that afternoon, he decided to get some exercise. He got out his bike and headed off towards the city park, where he knew that there’d be plenty of “eye candy” on Saturday afternoons. He kept on the latex, but added a pair of long lycra cycling pants and another long T-shirt, which would cover the very visible dent the lycra pants couldn’t, though while riding, his hard-on would be pretty much invisible.

He took long way around, which gave him a pretty good workout until he reached the park. Crossing the park towards the lake shore, he arrived at the large area where he expected a couple of hotties—and wasn’t disappointed. Quite a few hot women populated the area, some jogging, some inline-skating, others on their bikes. But many were simply hot. He just loved the fashion, with all the tight workout/sports clothes that did everything but hide the wearer’s body features.

He dismounted and sat down on a bench that had a great view of the scenery. And the lake, too. Which was of less interest to him, of course. Enjoying the view, he started day-dreaming about some of the women he saw.

A brunette on a bike rolled by from his left. T-shirt and a pair of hot pants that deserved their name. He was even able to spot a hint of a camel-toe look of the pants and imagined the pants being so tight, yet sliding up and into her slit, causing every move of the wearer teasing her clit.

Shortly behind her came a jogger with her boyfriend. Multicolored biker shorts, tight muscle shirt and the slight outlines of a sports bra that had some trouble keeping the weight it carried from bouncing into her line of sight. Carl imagined the material rubbing her nipples with every step, caressing and teasing her. When they were closer, he could see a pair of very visible dents in the front of her shirt.

Francine was panting. But not necessarily from exhaustion caused by riding her bike. For a while now already, the shorts she wore had rode up between her legs, and not only into her butt, but also between her legs. Every time she moved her legs caused the material to rub inside her, she had tried to reposition herself, but with all the people everywhere around, it had been impossible to inconspicuously pull on the tight pants she was wearing—especially as she was expecting them to be pretty much soaked, too. So in her predicament, she had decided to just try to get home as quickly and with as little leg movement as possible. Which wasn’t easy. By the time she made it home, she had silently endured two orgasms and was close to another by the time she closed the door to her flat behind her.

A cute Asian was next. Long black hair that went almost to her ass, rather thin frame with small breasts, nice legs (muscular, but not thick) in a set of roller blades. She wore a shiny blue tight-fitting, high-cut leotard that did more than accentuate her narrow waist, and a short cut-off t-shirt that ended slightly under her breasts. Her face was to kill for—her eyes were dark, only slightly almond-shaped, slightly upturned nose, and lips that were almost a bit too thick for the rest of the face. Carl’s thoughts went racing, imagining his dick surrounded by her lips, him thrusting in as deep as he could.

Han Li loved skating out by the lake. Great scenery, fresh air, and lots of guys to flirt with. She had just started her round, when she saw a guy sitting on a bench, wearing tight bike pants that didn’t succeed one bit in hiding a pretty impressive dent. She was getting close when all of a sudden it seemed like something was shoved between her lips and down her throat—something big, warm and pulsing. It slid down further, causing her to gag and keeping her from breathing. She was so startled that she tripped just as she passed the bench.

—Carl was totally engulfed in watching the Asian that he barely managed to catch her from falling all the way on her face—still there was blood running from her knees where she hit the ground, and scratches on her left hand and elbow. Carl helped her up and sat her on the bench, getting a paper towel from the little saddle-bag of his bike. “I don’t know what happened” she sobbed while Carl carefully wiped the dirt from the wounds on her legs. “One moment, everything is fine, the other I .. I .. couldn’t breath. It felt .. funny” she continued. Carl only half listened to what she said, but mostly concentrated on her beautiful legs. And what lay between them, barely covered by the high-leg leotard. From his point of view, he could tell there was nothing underneath, as there were no seams or tell-tale lines visible. The slight aroma of her sweat flowed through the air. He took her left hand and continued his clean-up work there. Her fingers were very delicate, not too long, with carefully manicured nails that had only a fine layer of nail polish, accentuating rather than covering up the natural pink, yet very glossy.

Still using the advantage of his kneeling position, his eyes examined her crotch area some more—from the smoothness of the spandex material, she must be clean shaven he thought. As smoothly as the material stretched over her mound and further down, with slight traces of her lips pushing through, he didn’t expect a single hair there. Not that there was anything to expect as such.

After cleaning her wounds as well as he could with the limited resources (and mostly not hearing much of what she was saying), he helped her to her feet, which caused her face to cringe in pain. “Are you OK?” he asked sympathetically, though not accepting the “Yeah, I’ll make it” he got as an answer. He grabbed his bike, and hoping she had not told him earlier while he was otherwise “occupied”, he asked where her car was parked. “No car, I live up on Carver and 22nd” she answered. “No way I’m letting you go that far with how your legs are ... sit on the bike, I’ll push you there”. Not waiting for any reply he moved in the bike so she could mount it, leaving her feet in the skates on the ground to steady it. Carl put one arm around her waist, while using the other to steer the bike.

He felt her tight muscles under his hand, which was almost on her stomach. The thin lycra material being only a minor nuisance as far as feeling her up inconspicuously. They were chatting about different things, which he hoped would get her mind of the pain she must still be having.

After a while they made it to her home, a turn-of-the-century style wooden house in the midst of a couple trees. He had already found out that she was single, living alone, and he didn’t really expect an invitation to come in. “Thank you very much!” she said, getting of the bike slowly, obviously still in pain. “I can take care of it now! I owe you” she continued with a grateful smile. ‘Yeah, right’ he thought, ‘you would have had a hell of a walk home without me. Invite me in for dinner, and then some ... bet you would have some fun with what I got in store in my pants’. “In fact, would you like to ... well ... come in for dinner?” she continued as in second thought. Carl had already started to turn when he heard her say that. “If you insist” he smiled, “but I warn you, I’m not really dressed for a formal dinner”, pointing to his sports outfit. “That’ll do ... if you want to change, I think I have a couple things left from an old friend that might fit you, if you want to shower and change ...”

Carl couldn’t really believe what had happened there—sure, he had been nice to her, helping her after she fell, bringing her home, and even the nice conversation they had on the way over, but this luck he had with being invited in ... just as he had thought about how nice it would be ...

Li tried to be a perfect host, despite the pain she still felt. Showing him to a guest room in the rear of the house, which had its own little bathroom and shower, she opened the closet containing several shirts and pants, as well as a drawer with some underwear. From first glance, the shirts would do, though the pants might turn out a bit short, but would be better than the slightly sweaty sports top he had on. She excused herself, heading off to the master bedroom for a shower and a change herself.

After Li left the room, Carl looked around some more first. It was a mostly typical guest room. Simple furniture, though not cheap crap from some import place. Most likely used by the owner earlier, but replaced by something new and then used for guests. Mostly clean, though a real thin layer of dust proved that the girl kept the room clean every now and then, but didn’t expect (or have) guests often enough to have to clean it up on a regular basis. The toilette water level was down noticeably, he figured nobody had used it in quite a while.

He thought about the lithe Asian that inhabited the place. Images of pulling off her skimpy clothes, and taking her from behind in the shower crossed his mind. Banging her hard. Her body was almost perfect. Well, close to, anyway. Standing behind her, he imagined running his hands over her breasts, massaging them, pinching the nipples. He thought of how it might feel if with every thrust he made, it were like her breasts were slightly inflated some. He increased the frequency and strength of his hip movement in his mind, increasing the speed of growth, until she had gone from her small B to a very nice upper C cup, then decided that anything more would not fit the way she looked. Sure a D would be great, but as much as he liked boobs, they just would not be a good match to the rest of her appearance ...

Suddenly as if being shaken from a day dream, Carl remembered he still had to get cleaned up a bit. He undressed quickly, at least he got rid of shirt, running tights and socks quickly—the rubber pants were a, well, slightly different thing. He couldn’t have only sworn they only went to below his belly button when he had put them on, he KNEW they had only gone up that far. Now, previously unnoticed, they covered all of his stomach till right below his rib cage. They still felt great, even less of a pair of clothing, but rather like a part of his body. Still flawless, shiny, without a mark, still fitting perfectly, without any wrinkles or bends around the front or back of his knees (which other rubber pants always tended to do). Oh well, and his cock was still very much erect, without any sign of letting of—in fact, it seemed even longer and thicker than before. Which had to be wishful thinking ... he was nearing porn-star size already, something any regular woman would dream of, but be afraid of if it ever crossed her way in a bedroom or elsewhere.

But even more shocking or at least interesting was the fact that he had a hard time taking it off. As easy as it went on before, as hard was it now to pull off. It appeared to be stuck to his skin, almost as if it was glued. He was able to pull on it, loosen it, but when it came back in contact to his skin, it seemed to adhere to it again. Not in a way that glue would, as it didn’t pull any on his body hairs, though. After a couple of minutes of pulling and tugging, he finally was able to get it off. On the inside, to his surprise, it was only barely moist, unlike any other rubber he usually wore—after just half an hour or so, he was usually soaked (part of which he actually enjoyed). With these pants, it was more like he had gotten out of shower and dried off, with only a slight rest of moisture left on the skin. He shrugged it off and got in the shower for a quick rinse. He didn’t want to let Li wait.

After showering, he browsed through the clothes. He grabbed a white shirt and the longest pair of pants he could find, though they still only barely reached to his ankles. He skipped the undershirt, putting on a pair of boxers. Grabbing a pair of navy-blue socks, the rubber pants caught his eyes. Laying on the bed, they were tempting him. His dick had returned to its “normal” state (and size, though of course he knew the impression of it being larger than normal was not real) when he had pulled them off. He imagined the impressive bulge he’d have in these pants, given that they were cut pretty tight. Plus the great feeling of the rubber, the pressure it caused. That and the lovely, sexy company of Li put together ...

Not even two minutes later, his lower half from below the navel was black and glossy, with the “flag pole” pointing out straight and strong ever since he had had the rubber on his dick again. Ditching the boxers, he pulled on the socks over the rubber, followed by shirt and pants. The latter were a bit hard to get closed, but he did manage with some struggling. Folding up his sports clothes, he headed out towards the living room.

After leaving her guest room, Li wondered what had caused her to invite this guy in. Sure, he seemed nice, with all of the help he had offered, bringing her home on his bike and all. But hell, she NEVER brought anybody home, not after a date, much less a first date, and surely not somebody she just met on the street. She tried to calm herself down a bit, just putting the blame on her accident and the shock, the pain. She decided to make this quick, just fix some dinner, get it over with just some nice small-talk, then excuse herself and get him out as fast as possible. Sure, he didn’t seem to be some freak or worse, but these days, women couldn’t be too careful ...

She took off her clothes in her bed room (the door of which she carefully locked). Heading naked for the shower, her mind began to wander slightly, imagining the impressive bulge in his tight pants. She was a sucker for tight clothes, anyway, which was one reason for her last boyfriend. She met him at a party, at which he wore the tightest jeans she had ever seen on a man. The looked like they were some lycra leggings, totally out of style (kind of like the pants worn in the 80’s), but damn did he look hot. Muscular legs, great ass, and a tell-tale bulge in front. Following that party they had gone back to his place together for a hot night (the first and last time she had ever did this), followed by a couple months of being together. They broke up some 9 months ago, as he turned out to be a jerk after all.

As she turned on the water, she remembered one of the times they had sex in the shower. He had banged her hard from behind, which was the first time for her. After the initial pain, she started to enjoy it. Enjoy it a lot. While the water ran down her breasts, she turned and looked at him in her mind, but seeing Carl’s face instead of the face she had expected to see. She tried to stop the memory, but at the same time it was if she was not only remembering this, but also going through it again—her rear entrance seemed to be entered, a short sharp pain went through her, followed by something hot and thick. Hands were run over her body, while slowly the pace of the pushing she received increased. The hands—she looked down just to see nothing, just expected, except for her nipples responding to her thoughts, dreams, and the imaginary sensations. While the hot water ran over her body, she started savoring what her mind made her feel. She was pretty much starved for attention of this kind. Not really being a fan of one-nighters, she had gone just too long without any real meat in her pussy or elsewhere. Her fingers and the rubber toys just couldn’t replace the real thing.

Thrust after thrust, ever speeding up. Yes, she thought. Yessssssss ...

Then, as quickly as it had started, it was over. “Why,” she thought, “why now?” Just a couple more seconds, and she would have ... She started to come to her senses. Why was she dreaming of having sex in the shower. Why now, and why was she dreaming of being banged by this stranger? She shook her head in an attempt to clear her thoughts. Grabbing the soap bottle, she finally continued what she had planed on doing in the first place. After all, she had to get finished.

After she dried herself off and blow-dried her hair, she headed back in her bedroom, browsing through her closet for some clothes. Nothing inviting or promising, but it still had to look decent. She figured a pair of dress pants (wide cut) and a lose fitting blouse should do. After pulling up her panties, she put on her bra. After closing the clasps, she pulled it around, and put her arms through the strap holes, when she noticed it being a lot tighter than she was expecting. Had it shrunk in the dryer? She looked down at herself. Her breasts were spilling out of the bra, which wasn’t even pulled up all the way. What is this, she thought. Pulling off the bra again, she shook her head at the sight. It seemed as if her breasts had grown. Grown a lot. This was impossible, it had to be imaginary. Not believing what she saw, she grabbed a bra from the dirty clothes she knew had fit the day before. Nervously putting it on resulted in the same thing—her breasts didn’t fit in it anymore. Pulling it off again, she ran her hands over her breasts—they still felt the same, didn’t seem to be any heavier, but she had severe problems covering them with one hand each—they were indeed larger. This couldn’t be, she tried to reason with herself. She must be imagining things. Was this also a result of the shock and pain? Puzzled, she just grabbed a halter top and put it on, followed by the blouse—which turned out not to be that loose anymore, either. Her still (or again?) more than slightly aroused nipples pressed through both the top and the thin blouse’s material. Hearing her guest walking by her door forced her to just ignore this strange situation. She just had to get this over with. She could still figure out what happened later, once she was alone again.

Carl looked around in the living room, a large buffet took up the shorter wall, with a big window offering a nice view of the back yard. A large, thick hedge surrounded the yard, shielding it from outside views. A small pool was at the left side, and a brick BBQ grill on the right. The lawn looked well-maintained, trimmed rather short and with a strong green color.

Something caught his attention behind him, turning he was slightly stunned. Though dressed in a formal style instead of the sexy minimal sports dress, there was still something that made her look great. In fact, she seemed to be more curvy than she was before. Probably the bra or maybe a corset he assumed. He also noticed she was kind of nervous, which he hoped would subside pretty quickly, as he was hoping for a nice time with her during dinner.

Li was pretty nervous—still wondering what had caused the “growth spur”, and suspecting her breasts would be the main focus for Carl. She asked him over to the table, offering a glass of wine. She filled two glasses and handed him one, almost emptying hers after the toast. She excused herself and left for the kitchen. Luckily, her fridge contained most of what she’d need for a quick Chinese style meal—bell peppers, carrots, soy sprouts, plus three chicken breasts, which combined with a can corn and pineapple, and a bag of finished sweet&sour sauce mix should be done in less than 15 minutes. She started the stove to heat up the wok, then filled the rice cooker and turned it on. Cutting up the meat first, then continuing with the vegetables quickly got all the ingredients ready.

From the living room, Carl watched her elegant movement preparing their dinner. He sure did like what he saw, and he didn’t think about the food. The slight sway her breasts performed with every move made him wonder about whether she was actually wearing a bra ... but if she wasn’t wearing a bra, was he just imagining the increase he thought he saw? He imagined running his hands over her breasts again, feeling the warm orbs, teasing her nipples, which responded instantaneously.

In the kitchen, Li got slightly distracted, imagining the feeling of somebody running his hands over her breasts, the pinching of her nipples causing her to hold her breath, biting her lip in order to stop her from letting out a moan in response. Invoking all her willpower, she continued fixing the food, though her body wasn’t able to hide its response—her nipples were now even more visible through the material. She wondered how she’d get through the dinner without ... she didn’t want to continue that thought.

After just a quarter of an hour, she served something that Carl knew would have to be delicious—the scent that had flooded the whole house was promising, and the view he was looking forward to would be a great bonus! When she finally had everything finished and returned to the table, he rose and helped her with the chair with a smile. Li had a hard time returning it, but forced herself, while being surprised by his chivalry she was still concerned about what was going on with her.

The following meal and conversation slightly managed to get her thoughts of her problems at hand, though very now and then, she still had the feeling of hands on different parts of her body—a caress of her face, a pinch of a nipple, strong hands grabbing her waist, even a slightly brutal pushing of her legs, opening them up as in preparation of some hot sex. She still tried to concentrate on the conversation, as she—even with all the peculiar sensations—enjoyed Carl’s company.

Carl couldn’t keep his mind on the conversation. Every now and then, his thoughts wandered off, thinking of what he would like to do to and with her. Li seemed somewhat absent minded at times, too. And her nipples were one sight, too. He wondered if she was really as hot as he believed her body betrayed.

After some time, a superb meal, and an interesting conversation with Li, he expected to be asked to leave. Out of whatever reason, Li seemed to be pretty cold towards him. Definitely colder than when she had invited him in, and totally in contrast to the excitement he had seen from her nipples and occasional flushing of her skin.

Carl had been right—she had barely put away all the dishes in the dish washer, when she turned and thanked him for all he had done, and the nice evening. He thanked her, and while being led to the door, his view of her nice ass made his fantasy go wild again. He wished she stop her swaying walk, take off all her clothes and jump him, instead of throwing him out.

Being glad she had finally made it through dinner, Li had thanked Carl for the company and a great evening, but excused herself, as she would have to get up early the following day. Leading him out, an image, an impulse flooded her mind, erasing every intent she had had. Her hands reached for the buttons of her blouse ...