("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2007.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  All rights reserved. Thank you for your 
consideration.
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The Accident
By William A. Lemieux (1995)

***

With all the talk these days about genetic alterations 
it isn't surprising that there are things already in 
the works that we no nothing about. In this story 
science proves to be very exciting in deed. (MF, latex, 
sci-fi)

***

Author Note: May be freely distributed by cybernetic 
media, provided no fee is charged or profit gained. 
Hardcopies are expressly forbidden without prior 
consent of the author. May not be published or 
distributed otherwise without permission.


February 12th
-------------
Dear Diary,
 
It's been a long time since I've written anything in 
your pages, but I feel like I have to talk about this, 
and you're the only one I can tell. I have a feeling 
this will be a very long entry.

I have only myself to blame, I suppose. Jurgen told me 
not to touch anything, and even if he hadn't, common 
sense should have told me not to meddle with things I 
don't understand. Or for that matter, things that even 
Jurgen doesn't fully understand. Now I'm in a real fix. 
It's funny though. Now that I've gotten used to it, I'm 
not even sure I want out of this "fix". But I'm 
probably not making much sense. Let me start over at 
the beginning.

A little less than six months ago, Jurgen told me he 
had made a breakthrough at the lab. I went out with him 
on the weekend, and he showed me what he'd been working 
on. It had something to do with altering the molecular 
structure of materials with directed energy instead of 
chemistry. I understood the intention, but not the 
principles behind the equipment. I mean, I'm fairly 
smart, I have a masters degree in anthropology, but I 
know when I'm out of my depth.

As Jurgen explained it, the machine bathed the test 
item in low level microwaves while scanning a low 
powered x-ray laser across it at high speed. They had 
discovered all sorts of bizarre effects on various 
materials, using various frequencies of microwaves, but 
the effects were unpredictable, and they hadn't figured 
out how to control them yet. I was impressed though, 
and I told him so. We left later, went off to the art 
museum, I think. If only I had known then how his work 
would affect my life!

The next part of the story came just last week. I had 
been in the kitchen making myself a little snack. There 
was no point making dinner, since Jurgen wouldn't be 
home until late. He was obsessively pursuing some new 
development at the lab, and I knew he would probably 
ruin his appetite with junk food out of the vending 
machines.

The doorbell rang, and with a suddenly racing heart, I 
KNEW what it had to be. When I saw the heavy-looking 
parcel in the arms of the delivery man, my hopes were 
answered. 

I have written here many times about the joy Jurgen and 
I get from our bondage games and fetishes. But I've 
never written down the details before. Why am I 
embarrassed? It's not as if anyone will ever read these 
words. Okay... a couple we know runs a company that 
specializes in elaborate and beautifully made 
restrictive rubber and leather clothing, and Jurgen had 
ordered a custom made latex bondage suit from them. 
Somehow, without even looking at the shipping label, I 
knew it was finally here!

I signed for the parcel, and practically ran into the 
kitchen with it. With trembling hands, I tore open the 
carton. We had ordered the suit over two months ago, 
and I had been day-dreaming about it nearly every day 
since. I dumped the contents onto the table, rustling 
folds of purple rubber spilling out in a heap. As the 
familiar aroma of latex filled the room, I marvelled at 
the almost overpowering effect it had on me. After 
years of playing all manner of fetish and bondage games 
with Jurgen, I have come to associate that smell with 
sexual pleasure, such that now the odor alone arouses 
me.

I laid it out on the table, admiring the craftsmanship 
that had gone into it. It was a full body suit of heavy 
gauge latex in a deep purple. There was no zipper, 
since the suit was made for neck entry only. One of our 
favorite games was to dump lubricant inside a water-
tight catsuit so that it would slip and slide around my 
body as I moved. A zipper would have allowed leaks, 
making a mess.

The attached boots had six inch heels, and while they 
weren't exactly ballet toes, they were half an inch 
higher than any other heels I owned. Walking in them 
would be challenging, but not impossible. I'm going 
into a lot of detail, aren't I? Well, despite what has 
happened, I still love the suit, and it has given me 
such pleasure, that I think a certain fetishistic 
lingering over the intimate details of the outfit are 
called for.

Jurgen had had a devilish idea for the bust. There were 
fitted breast cups of course, but they were made from 
thinner latex, and sat over slightly smaller holes in 
the chest of the suit. The outer cups had little bumps 
inside, to rub against my nipples. My breasts would be 
squeezed through the holes in the heavy rubber of the 
suit, holding them out and up, and they would bulge out 
like two round melons, stretching the cups, the tight 
fit and little bumps making me acutely aware of my 
nipples at all times.

There were gloves molded onto the sleeves, and quite a 
few heavy "D" rings attached with reinforcing straps at 
strategic places. The crotch area was fitted with some 
very nice accessories as well, but my favorite feature 
was the corset section. 

Made with two layers of rubber laminated with canvas 
and closely spaced steel boning, it was an integral 
part of the suit. There was no busk of course, and the 
back laces were attached to reinforced flaps on the 
outside, with another flap that could be closed and 
locked over them, securing the suit on the wearer. I 
remember insisting that Jurgen size it the same as my 
smallest dress corset. He had suggested a more relaxed 
fit, since he planned to lock me into it for a weekend, 
but had given in after I described in lurid detail how 
sexy I would look wearing it. I recall that our love 
making the night we mailed the order was especially 
intense.

We had ordered a custom helmet with it, but it was not 
attached, since my husband wanted to be able to use 
different hoods with the suit, or even take me out on 
the town wearing the outfit under my street clothes. 
The hood was made with a wide stiffened flange that 
would make it secure once the neck of the suit had 
closed over it. The eyes were covered with smoked 
acrylic lenses, so I would be able to see, but dimly. 
The mouth was open, but could be closed with any one of 
several plugs, gags, and so on, all of which snapped 
into a ridge surrounding the opening.

I thought of how much the new suit would excite him, 
and was immediately struck by a mischievous idea. He 
had to work late at the lab, but nothing stopped me 
from paying him a visit. I was pleased that his work 
had been making so much progress, but we had had less 
time together as a result, and it had been weeks since 
we had done anything more than plain vanilla sex. I 
knew he wouldn't leave work until he was exhausted, but 
I was sure he wouldn't mind a brief distraction if I 
stopped by wearing this! And if I waited until later 
that night, the place would be deserted. They only had 
a handful of employees anyway, and generally, my little 
genius was the only one willing to work late.

Once my mind was made up, I sprang into action, as they 
say in the cheap adventure novels. I carried the heavy 
suit up to our play room, then took a long hot shower, 
paying a little extra attention to my piercings, since 
they would be abused somewhat by the tight suit as well 
as being steeped in sweat for several hours.

I dried off as fast as I could- I was eager to feel the 
new outfit enclosing me in it's intimate embrace. At 
least I didn't have to dry my hair. I'm not sure 
whether I've mentioned this before... I have been 
completely depilated for nearly as long as we have been 
married, so it didn't take long for me to get dry. It's 
fortunate that Jurgen is well paid for his work. I had 
told him very early on that while I was willing to give 
up my hair for him, I refused to shave from head to toe 
every day. The electrolysis of my head, armpits, and 
other areas had taken over a year and had cost a 
fortune!

I grabbed the silicone lubricant from the bedroom and 
headed for the play room. Silicone is the best thing we 
have found for lubricating rubber, since it didn't dry 
out or pool in the feet. I knew I'd need it, since the 
suit had been designed for a very tight fit.

Before I started, I debated briefly about what to put 
in the crotch. The suit had two large holes there, with 
thick molded collars. They could be left open, or any 
of a host of custom accessories could be snapped into 
place, making a watertight seal. A moments reflection 
told me that Jurgen wouldn't be likely to want to make 
love right there in the lab. I opted for a pair of thin 
sheaths, into which I pressed two of my most prized 
toys: a pair of large soft rubber phalluses, each of 
which has a steel capsule inside, partly filled with 
mercury. I didn't want to use vibrators because while 
they might be exciting at first, I'd be numb after an 
hour or so. These plugs on the other hand, would wiggle 
and vibrate only when I moved.

After installing the sleeves and the plugs inside the 
suit, I slathered the thick, oily silicone all over the 
inside, and then spread a thin film over myself as 
well. Wouldn't want to chafe, I told myself, 
suppressing a giggle.

Getting the suit on without help was a challenge. If 
the rubber had been any thicker, I would never have 
gotten my feet into the boots. The neck was reinforced, 
but even so, I worried that it might tear as I 
struggled to pull it over my hips and get my arms and 
shoulders into it. I'm a big girl, not overweight, in 
fact a little too slender Jurgen used to tell me, but I 
have an ample bosom and a prominent, muscular derriere, 
so I had to work to get the neck over them. I had to 
force my breasts through the holes by hand. The feeling 
as they plopped through and my nipple rings hit the 
inside of the cups was exquisite.

Finally, as the collar opening shrank against my neck, 
the plugs slid into me suddenly and I gasped at being 
stuffed so full without warning. I held onto the mirror 
for balance as a little wave of warmth swept through 
me. I wondered for a moment whether the plugs I had 
chosen might be a little too large, but then threw 
caution to the wind. I might not talk Jurgen into sex 
at the lab, but I was definitely going to enjoy this 
night! 

Now that I was fully dressed, I indulged in a moment of 
narcissism, standing before the dressing mirror to 
admire myself. The fit was perfect! I couldn't have 
asked for better. Even the fingers of the gloves fit 
snugly and without a wrinkle, which is unusual. 

I took a few tentative steps and found that I could 
walk without breaking my neck, but I'd have to go 
slowly at first. While these heels were only a little 
higher than the ones I wore almost every day, the 
effect on my balance was significant. It would take 
time before I could walk in them as easily as my 
regular shoes.

For a moment, I forgot about my mission, revelling in 
the tight feeling of the second skin that encased me. I 
admit I got a little carried away and I found myself 
digging my fingers into my crotch, kneading my breasts. 
I was thoroughly turned on before I caught myself. With 
a struggle, I made myself stop, telling myself to save 
it for Jurgen.

I turned my attention to the corset. Lacing it was 
easier than it would sound. I think I have mentioned 
before that Jurgen built me a "lacing machine" after I 
complained that I couldn't lace myself into any of my 
corsets without his help. He's such a little inventor! 
Perhaps I should describe it. It's just two little 
winches, mounted on opposite walls of the play room and 
hooked up to a remote control. I just put one hook 
through each lace, thumb the button, and they pull in 
opposite directions. The only hard part is that I have 
to back off the winches, unhook the laces, and do the 
final tightening and knot-tying myself.

I watched in the mirror across the room as the machine 
slowly drew the corset closed. I never grow tired of 
watching this fascinating process. What woman WOULDN'T 
love to see her waist gradually shrinking before her 
eyes? As the pressure on my abdomen built, I couldn't 
help wiggling a little. The dildos filling me front and 
rear responded, and I gasped. I already knew I would 
have to take it in steps. This corset was TIGHT! Even 
though I tight-lace on a daily basis, I had to stop 
several times to rest and allow my poor torso to 
adjust. 

After about half an hour, I finally had the laces 
closed, knotted, and concealed beneath the locking 
cover. After only a few minutes, my abdomen became 
adjusted and stopped hurting, although it was still 
slightly uncomfortable. I would never have got it 
closed if I hadn't already been tight-lacing for years. 
And tight? I was held rigidly erect. The rigid embrace 
of this garment felt even more like a sort of portable 
bondage- one of the reasons I got into corseting in the 
first place. Between the compression of my waist and 
the plugs down below, I was really getting turned on. 
At least I'd be in prime condition for Jurgen! On a 
lark, I decided to leave the key to the lock on the 
dresser when I left.

The only thing left now was the hood. 

Diary, you already know how I feel about hoods. The 
sensation of having my hearing reduced, of the tight 
latex clinging around my head, is delightful. Most of 
the ones Jurgen has bought for me have gags fitted, and 
well... you know how I love having my mouth filled, 
too. 

I decided to use the breathe-through inflatable gag 
tonight. It took effort to snap it into place, and I 
discovered it was impossible to spit out without 
removing it from the hood. The hood was made of the 
same thick purple rubber as the suit, so I lubricated 
it too, then spread more goo on my bare scalp. With 
only a slight struggle, I pulled the thick helmet on, 
and it slid into place with a wet sucking sound. It was 
no trouble to get the nostril tubes in my nose so I 
could breath freely.

It took a little more work to get the wide collar of 
the helmet tucked into and under the collar of the 
suit, but I did it. All of this was rather tiring, and 
I knew I'd probably need my husband's help to get out 
of the outfit. I fitted the pump to the mouthpiece, and 
pumped it, feeling the limp bladder within my mouth 
suddenly swell, gradually filling my cheeks, forcing my 
jaw apart, and making speech impossible. When my mouth 
was nicely full, I removed the pump from the tiny valve 
and screwed the little plug in. Looking in the mirror, 
it was difficult to tell that there was anything 
between the shiny molded lips of the mask.

I left the pump on the dresser too. Jurgen has always 
liked me gagged, and I figured that if he wanted to 
talk to me when I got there, he could always improvise 
something to release the pressure- he's handy that way. 
In the meantime, I wanted to feel helpless, trapped.

Okay, I was dressed. The only remaining task was to 
wipe off the dribbles of lubricant and apply a liberal 
amount of polish to the suit. That took only moments, 
and when I was done, I hesitated. I have never done 
anything quite this daring before. Suppose I was 
stopped by a police officer? I'm embarrassed to say 
that the idea of being helplessly incommunicado before 
a uniformed officer sent a sudden throb though me. I 
suppressed a shudder, and buried my fears.

Before I left, I took a last look in the mirror, 
admiring the deep color and brilliant shine of the 
suit. My breasts jutted out improbably high and firm, 
the corset held me brutally erect, while my now tiny 
waist (not to mention the back curve of the corset) 
emphasized my bust and buttocks even further. The 
skyscraper heels and the unbroken line of the boots 
showed off my legs to great advantage.

Not bad for thirty-four, I told myself. I strutted 
carefully to the stairs, and began picking my way 
carefully down to the front hall. That took longer than 
it should have, because the bouncing motions I made 
were repeated and amplified by those darned dildos 
inside me, and I had to stop several times for deep 
breathing and clenching teeth. Eventually, I made my 
way into the hall, found the car keys, and headed off 
for the lab and my poor unsuspecting husband. 


February 13th
-------------
Dear Diary, 

I got tired of writing last night. Here is the rest of 
the story of how I was... reborn, I guess you could 
say, as a new sex toy for my husband. I think it's 
getting easier to write about all this, since I seem to 
be getting a bit more glib, and taking the whole thing 
a little less seriously than I used to.

When I got outside, I was suddenly blind. I had 
forgotten one important fact about the night time. It's 
dark at night, dummy! The smoked lenses in the helmet 
kept me from seeing anything except the lamp posts 
glowing on either side of the driveway. I stood there 
in bewildered frustration for quite a while, until I 
realized my eyes were gradually adjusting to the dark. 
After what seemed like an hour, but was probably only a 
quarter of that, I could not only see well enough to 
strut my way to the car, but I felt confident that with 
the headlights on, I'd be able to drive safely. 
(Fortunately, I turned out to be right.)

Walking to the car was an adventure, as the mercury 
filled plugs inside me wiggled and squirmed again, 
practically driving me to climax before I even got into 
the car. But if I thought that was bad, the trip to the 
lab was even worse, or better, depending on how you 
look at it. Ever since we moved out to the country to 
be closer to the lab, I have asked Jurgen repeatedly to 
have the road graded, since the bumps and pot-holes 
make me crazy whenever I have anything like Ben-Wa 
balls or these dildos inside me. And that night wasn't 
the first time for that. 

My dear husband delights in equipping me in all sorts 
of garments and toys that he knows will keep me nearly 
mad with desire, and then driving into town for dinner 
at some fancy restaurant. So far, he has refused to 
have our road graded, the rascal. I think he takes 
sadistic pleasure in seeing me incoherent with arousal 
and sometimes even public orgasms. I both hate and 
adore those outings. But I'm getting sidetracked again.

This time I was driving, and it wasn't easy 
concentrating on the road. Just as I was deciding that 
I wasn't going to make it there alive, I came to the 
end of the driveway. The paved road that goes past the 
lab was much easier to take, with only the occasional 
sharp turn to distract my innards, and I made the rest 
of the trip without mishap. 

I drove through the open gate, wondering briefly 
whether they did any secret work here. There certainly 
wasn't any security in evidence.

As I approached the main building where my husband's 
lab was, I saw more than one lighted office, and I 
hoped that he really was alone. I wasn't really ashamed 
of how I was dressed, but I knew that it would cause 
Jurgen a great deal of embarrassment if we were 
discovered by his coworkers. 

I found him in a brightly lit room filled with the 
equipment he had so proudly demonstrated only a few 
months ago. He looked up with an irritated look at the 
sound of my boots clicking on the tiles, but that look 
instantly changed to one of surprise and delight as he 
took in the sight of my tightly corsetted, booted, 
helmeted, and shining form.

"Good God! Diana! What are you doing here?" He stood up 
from the instruments he had been staring at and looked 
me slowly up and down. He whistled.

I basked in his lusty gaze, and would have smiled 
inside the mask, if my mouth hadn't been stuffed full 
of rubber.

"So, the suit came, and you just couldn't wait to show 
it off, eh?" he asked. I nodded. He held out his arms 
to me. I stalked over to him slowly, faltering only 
once on the towering stilettos. 

"God, I could look at you for days," he said, running 
his hands over my tightly corsetted torso, my hips, my 
bulging breasts.

"It fits beautifully," he added, "Jeanne and William do 
wonderful work, don't they?"

I nodded vigorously in agreement.

"And you are gagged, I suppose?" he asked. He caressed 
my swollen cheeks, licked his lips. He knew how aroused 
I had to be inside my rubber and steel prison.

I nodded again, and moaned, partly for his benefit, and 
partly because I needed to. 

He felt between my legs. "And what do you have down 
here? Ah, the sheaths... but there's something 
inside... your fancy dildos?" 

I nodded. 

"The mercury filled ones?" I nodded again.

He wiggled his hand vigorously, briefly, eliciting 
another heartfelt moan from me.

"Jesus," he said, "How am I going to get any work done 
now? You look just fabulous, as always, but... good 
lord, this outfit is incredible. I can't wait to get 
you home!" 

A wistful look came into his eyes. 

"But damn! I can't go home yet, I just can't! I 
promised the financial people a demonstration in the 
morning, and I'm still having some problems. Damn. 
Damn, damn, damn." 

He continued to stare at me though, as if I were some 
fetishistic angel that might disappear at any moment.

I pirouetted before him, showing him every angle, 
knowing I looked hot, fully aware of the effect I was 
having on him, and loving it. And I knew that while a 
skin-tight outfit of patent leather or latex was his 
biggest turn-on, the fact that it was ME inside was 
what drove his lust over the edge. He might be the 
dominant in our relationship, but I can still 
manipulate him until he is weak in the knees.

His hands were around my waist, his fingers fumbling at 
the back lacing.

"Ah, you've locked the corset on? Where is the key?"

"Mm-hmm" I said around the gag. I pointed over my 
shoulder for emphasis. 

"In the car?" 

I shook my head.

"At home." 

I nodded. 

He grinned.

"Damn. You just wait until I get you home! I am going 
to put you through your paces like never before! I wish 
I could take you home right now! But hon, I'm really 
sorry, but I CAN'T leave yet. Not until I've got this 
bug worked out. You understand, don't you?" 

I made soft mewling sounds, and squirmed my hips. The 
dildos wiggled inside me and an aroused moan got added 
on involuntarily.

"Ah, hmmm," he said then. "Well, I suppose a _short_ 
break wouldn't hurt. In fact, I ought to just take you 
right here. You know, I don't have to undress you..." 

I could see his libido doing battle with his desire to 
fix his technical problem, whatever it was, by morning.

"Mmm?" I said softly, leaning into him and pressing my 
breasts into his chest. Like most men, he has a thing 
for tits. It was all the encouragement he needed.

"Okay, that's it! Come on." He turned me round, pinned 
my arms behind my back (to my delight) and marched me 
out the door, down the hall, and into his office. He 
closed and locked the door and swept his desk clean, 
papers and books flying in all directions. 

"Bend over," he commanded, his voice husky with desire. 
I grinned inside my mask. He was really out of control. 
It was a good thing that I had let him talk me out of a 
longer corset section, otherwise I wouldn't have been 
able to comply. With this design, while my torso was 
quite rigid, I could at least bend at the hips. I bent 
over the desk.

"Spread," he said, placing his hand on my back and 
bearing down. I spread my legs wide, having a little 
trouble as my heels tried to dig into the carpet. I got 
them free, and my chest and hips thumped down against 
the desk top. I gasped as the blow on my tit rings sent 
a jolt of pain mixed with pleasure through my chest. 
Between the trip here with those plugs rattling inside 
me and the treatment I was getting now, I wasn't just 
ready, I was on fire with need.

I felt an indication of my readiness dribble slowly 
down my leg, trapped under the rubber.

He fumbled in my crotch, and soon had the caps off, and 
with a bit more work, he got the dildos out. There was 
no way he would be able to remove the sleeves from the 
outside, but that didn't seem to bother him. He stuck 
his hand down the neck of the suit, and pulled it back 
coated with slime. He lubed up the inside of the 
sleeves, pressing one finger, then two, inside me. I 
heard faint rustlings through the hood, (he had pulled 
off his lab coat), a thud, (he had dropped his 
trousers), and then I gasped as a soft but insistent 
heat pressed into me, filling me to capacity. 

I have often wondered whether I might have married 
Jurgen just for his cock. He could never be mistaken 
for a porn star with his wiry, almost scrawny build, 
but he was certainly well endowed in the manhood 
department, not too large, but just right as far as I 
was concerned. And to the sex authors who insist that 
size doesn't matter, I say phooey! A big penis may not 
be critical, but it certainly is a nice bonus if the 
owner knows how to use it. And after our years of 
practice, my darling certainly does! He's also adept at 
using his hands and his mouth to send me into orbit. He 
told me once he had read up on sex before we got 
married. Whatever.

He rammed that magnificent rod of his into me in one 
stroke, knowing I was as ready as I would ever be. I 
nearly fainted from the pressure and sensation that 
shot out from my pelvis. There on his desk, me a 
picture out of any fetishist's wet dream, him looking 
like the "Nerd" posters you used to see in joke shops, 
he took me with a wild abandon, pounded me mercilessly, 
as he hadn't done in months. It was a short trip for 
both of us, due in large part to the suit, no doubt, my 
appearance driving him crazy with desire, and the 
sensations induced by the outfit doing the same thing 
to me. We came within ten seconds of each other, and 
his seed was so hot, and there was so much of it, I 
could feel it even through the latex sheath inside me. 
I screamed against the desk, my cries muffled by the 
hood and gag. I was still coming hard even as he slowed 
his strokes, his own spasms growing less urgent. I 
resolved right then and there to wear this suit at 
every opportunity.

If only I had known...

Afterwards, I stood against the wall, because it was 
more comfortable than sitting down, and he sat on the 
edge of the desk, both of us sipping Cokes from the 
machine down the hall. It's our little post-copulatory 
ritual, since neither of us smokes. Sometimes we drive 
immediately into town for ice cream. There are few 
things better after sex than ice cream.

I worked my jaw, still a little bit sore after having 
the pump gag removed. Pump gags never bother me when I 
have them in, it's afterwards that my jaw hurts.

"You know I'm going to have to get back to work soon," 
he said quietly.

He examined his pop can carefully, not wanting to look 
me in the eye. 

I nodded, and my heart sank a little, since I knew he 
would stay at the lab all night if he had to. He was 
too much of a perfectionist to show off his toys in 
anything less than perfect working order. But then I 
brightened up again, thinking about spending the night, 
perhaps the entire next day, locked into the suit, 
waiting for his return. My heart beat a little faster, 
and I smiled, although he probably couldn't tell 
through the mouth hole of the helmet.

"I know," I said. "It's okay. That was great, I mean 
it!" And I did mean it.

"Will you be okay?" he asked, looking up finally, his 
love and concern for me practically glowing behind his 
eyes.

"I'll be fine. Do what you need to do."

I decided he wasn't going to get off lightly, though.

"I'll be waiting for you, in bed, whenever you do get 
home. And I'll still be locked into this suit! At least 
now I won't go insane with lust, waiting for you to get 
home, hee-hee!"

"Okay. I guess. But hey! I'm forgetting the big news! 
Come on, I've got something to show you!" He headed for 
the door before I stopped him by pointing out that he 
was still bare from the waist down. While my absent-
minded genius put his pants back on, I collected the 
various parts of my suit that had been so hurriedly 
tossed around the room. I had a feeling I'd want them 
when I got home.

"So have you named this monstrosity yet?" I asked when 
we got back to the lab. I wanted to get his mind back 
on his work, since I knew the sooner he solved it, the 
sooner he would be home.

"I suppose. Siegfried calls it the Direct Structural 
Modification machine, or DSM. By structural, we're 
talking about molecular structure, of course. It's not 
very romantic, but it's descriptive."

"And what's the problem?"

"Oh. It's not a big problem really, I'm just rigging up 
some fancy displays so I can explain to the bean-
counters just what a potential gold mine this project 
is. But one of the displays is giving me funny 
readings. I think the trouble is in the cables."

"So the machine is working better now?" I asked. 

"Heh, heh, heh," he replied. He had that little-boy 
look of mischief that I knew meant he had accomplished 
something he was very proud of. 

"Oh boy, did we fix it! And we found out a lot of 
interesting things too. Watch this!"

He grabbed a potted plant off the desk, and took it 
over to the machine.

I suppose I should describe this invention of his, not 
that it matters now. It was really a hodge-podge of 
cabinets and wires slung everywhere, not at all the 
clean, high tech-looking sort of thing one sees in the 
movies. But having lived with my husband for all these 
years has taught me that real science is almost always 
messy.

There were three big cabinets that sat equally spaced 
around a turntable about a foot tall and six feet in 
diameter. A big horn antenna on each of the three 
cabinets pointed at the table. Off to one side was a 
long metal box with a white panel that looked like 
ceramic, in one end. It also pointed at the table.

Jurgen put the plant on the turntable. There was 
already a pile of other items on it. I looked around at 
the machinery. Indicators and lamps glowed everywhere. 
I realized he had been in the middle of an experiment 
when I walked in. Then I saw the rabbit in a cage, 
sitting on the turntable. I grabbed his shoulder.
 
"Wha?" he said, startled.

"What's with the rabbit?" I demanded. Jurgen knew how 
strongly I felt about the mistreatment of animals, no 
matter how important the experiment was supposed to be.

"Don't worry. That's just the point I'm going to make. 
You know I wouldn't do anything to hurt him. Trust me."

"I thought you said it used x-rays or something," I 
said, still not convinced.

"Yeah, that long box is the x-ray laser," he answered. 
"But the total dose is way lower than what you'd get 
from a chest x-ray. Actually, that's one of the most 
powerful X-ray lasers in existence, outside of maybe 
Lawrence Livermore Labs, but their stuff is all secret. 
Anyway, the efficiency of x-ray lasers stinks- they 
don't have much output."

I tried to stay out of the way while he prepared. The 
whole procedure took only a minute. He flipped a 
switch, and the turntable started rotating. Then he 
twisted a dial, pressed a button, and taking my hand, 
led me to the back of the room. I noticed a large 
digital display in one of the instrument racks was 
counting down from one minute.

"So, ah, is it safe to be this close?"

"So far as we can tell it is, but I rigged a timer, 
just in case. We're pretty sure now that it's 
completely safe, but it never hurts to be careful."

When the counter reached zero, there was a brief, loud 
hum, followed by a soft thud. 

"What was that?" I asked, worried.

"The laser. Or rather, the laser power supply- it makes 
that sound when the laser fires."

That was it. I couldn't see that anything had happened. 
I shot a curious look at Jurgen, then realized he 
couldn't see my expression.

He had a big grin on his face. "Come," he said.

We walked over to the table. The bunny was still there, 
looking the same as it had before. It wiggled it's nose 
at a piece of lettuce in the cage, but left it alone.

One by one, Jurgen held up the other items for my 
inspection, saying nothing at first, just grinning.

A thick metal rod, aluminum I think, appeared 
unchanged, until he bent it... far too easily.

The potted plant appeared no different than before.

Likewise a glass ashtray.

But a piece of dry wood that had been sitting on the 
ashtray appeared to have flowed and melted, without any 
evidence of heat or charring, and was now a perfect 
molded copy of the ashtray underneath. And it still 
looked and felt like wood, at least through my gloves. 
I sniffed it. It smelled like regular old pine.

"Isn't that incredible?" exploded Jurgen. "And look at 
that rabbit, and the plant. How old would you say that 
plant is?" 

I was worried, I had never seen him look so agitated.

I looked at it. It was just a garden variety petunia, 
the sort that withers in a few weeks. 

"A week?" I suggested.

"No! That fucking flower is over six months old," he 
crowed. "It's the very first thing we exposed. And 
guess when we watered it last?"

I shrugged.

"We never have." He held the pot out to me. The plant 
was stuck into a piece of foam, the roots splayed out 
against the bottom of the pot. No soil. I shivered. Was 
he pulling my leg?

"But you can see that it's thriving! Here, smell it- 
it's real. We checked it under a microscope, sent 
samples to a botany lab. They called back, wanting to 
know what the hell we had sent them- they said the 
cells were functioning at a normal rate, but they 
weren't deteriorating as fast as they normally do. It's 
alive, and not just preserved, but it is aging very 
slowly, and IT ISN'T GETTING ANY OF IT'S USUAL 
NUTRIENTS, EXCEPT LIGHT!."

"Right," I said, "so what's keeping it alive?" I was 
skeptical, but His excitement was infecting me.

"That's just it, we don't know."

"And the rabbit?" 

"That rabbit didn't eat or drink anything for six weeks 
after the first time we exposed it! At first we thought 
it was sick but we checked it out, and it's fine- 
hasn't even lost weight or eliminated waste! It's 
biologically impossible, but it's true. Somehow, the 
metabolism of the plant and the rabbit have been 
drastically altered. But with no harmful effects that 
we can find. And for some reason, the machine has 
entirely different effects on living things than on 
inanimate objects. We haven't got a clue what's 
happening here, but I'll tell you this: it's big- very 
big."

I was astounded. At first I thought he might be putting 
me on, but the look in his eyes was unmistakable. Then 
in spite of my awe at what he had accomplished, I was 
seized with a funny thought.

"It'd make a hell of a dietary method."

"Heh-heh," he laughed nervously. "Right. None of us has 
been brave, or maybe foolish is the word... anyway, 
brave enough to go that far. Even though we've run a 
few primates through it; spider monkeys, chimps, that 
sort of thing. We can't find _any_ evidence of neural 
dysfunction, brain damage, or anything else wrong, just 
that impossible metabolism. But we're a long way from 
trying it on a human." 

"You could try it on me," I suggested, in my best bimbo 
voice.

"Yeah, right," he shot back, "and how do you think I'd 
feel if it turned you into guacamole?"

"You'd probably feel like taking a ah, DIP," I said.

"AUGH! Silence woman, before I put that gag back into 
use."

I fingered the pump gag where I'd hung it around my 
neck.

"Promises, promises," I sighed.

"You're incorrigible," he accused with a smile. 
"Anyway, while it doesn't seem to have harmed the test 
animals so far, it does have very different effects on 
different materials. Oh! I wanted to see what it does 
to latex! I brought one of your old stockings with 
me... it's in the car. Wait here a minute!"

He trotted towards the door. "And don't touch 
anything," he shouted over his shoulder.

I was left standing in front of the turntable, my 
thoughts a jumble of fantastic possibilities and wild 
fantasies. 

And then... I don't know what came over me. I don't 
know what I was thinking. But he'd said that it didn't 
hurt primates hadn't he? That part about not eating 
though, that really interested me. And Jurgen wouldn't 
have to know. I could do it and be done long before he 
could get all the way down to the parking lot and back. 
I guess I'm not really as smart as I think I am. 
Without really thinking about it, I pulled everything 
off the turntable, turned the timer knob down to 
fifteen seconds, pushed the start button, and stepped 
clumsily onto the slowly rotating platform.

I stood there waiting, watching the room turn around 
me, while the clock counted down. I remembered that old 
movie The Fly, where the scientist gets horribly 
disfigured by trying his machine on himself. I began to 
have second thoughts. I looked at the digital clock as 
it came into view. Six seconds. Just as I was deciding 
to back out, I spotted Jurgen walking down the hall. He 
saw me at the same time I saw him. 

"Diana, NO!" he shouted, breaking into a run, but it 
was too late for both of us.

I heard a buzzing sound, and felt a wave of tingling 
warmth spread though my body. It felt wonderful! I 
can't describe it. It was like... oh, I don't know, I 
don't think there are words good enough to describe it. 
It felt as though I were being dipped in warm syrup 
perhaps, only better- my entire skin had suddenly 
become as sensitive as my sex. At the same time, I was 
suddenly acutely aware of all of the simulation I was 
receiving from the suit that I had been trying to 
ignore... the constriction of my waist, the entire 
surface of the suit stretched taught around my body, 
the arched shape that my feet were forced into by the 
boots, all of this and more clamored for my attention 
simultaneously. This incredible battery of sensations 
grew and grew until I couldn't stand it, I thought I 
would explode, I thought I would die. As I turned, I 
saw Jurgen running toward me, but in slow motion, as if 
he were running through water.

I recognized the feeling that was building within me. 
It was an orgasm, but an orgasm so intense, it 
frightened me out of my wits. I was immobilized, I 
couldn't move a muscle, there was nothing I could do to 
stop what was coming. So to speak. The sensations 
peaked, and the first wave of my climax broke over me. 
I screamed with pure pleasure, as a white light seemed 
to fill the room, and for one eternal moment, I thought 
I really had died, and perhaps was on my way to heaven. 
I WAS bliss, I was ecstasy personified.

I passed out.


February 15th
-------------
Dear Diary,

It looks like this is taking longer to get written down 
than I thought it would. I took a break from writing 
yesterday, and just relaxed. Well, I relaxed as much as 
I can these days. But I digress. I was talking about 
the accident at the lab...

When I awoke, I was lying on my back, Jurgen's 
beautiful face filling my vision. He was sobbing, 
calling my name over and over.

"Ack!" I said. I'm really eloquent when I wake up. 

"You're alive! Thank God!" he said. "There was no way 
to tell, no way..." he broke down again for a moment, 
then seemed to rally himself.

"All right. Gotta get calmed down. Gotta get you out of 
this. What the hell has happened to you? Jesus..."

I sighed softly, in what I hoped was a reassuring way. 
I felt a lingering desire for the incredible feeling I 
had just experienced. I wanted to go back to that place 
of light and heat and joy. The noise got a response 
from Jurgen.

"Oh! What am I doing?" he said, to no one in 
particular. He looked into my eyes, or at least, into 
the lenses of my helmet. I was still wearing the suit! 

"Are you all right in there? Can you breathe okay?"

I answered "Uh-huh" to each question through a tightly 
closed jaw. 

Something seemed to be wrong with my mouth.

"How do you feel?"

The something wrong was that I couldn't open my mouth, 
it was clamped shut. I spoke through closed teeth. I 
must have sounded silly.

"I'm fine. I feel... strange but, God honey, that was 
the greatest feeling I've experienced in my whole 
life."

"It was? But... you screamed."

"I usually do when I come." Always the subtle diplomat, 
that's me.

"Oh. Well, at least your mind seems to be okay... but 
jeez, something happened- look at the suit!"

I tried to sit up. That was when I realized why I felt 
so strange. I couldn't move. I don't mean I was 
paralyzed. I could feel my muscles flexing slightly 
within whatever was holding me firm. And each time I 
did I felt amazing tingles of warmth shoot through me 
from wherever my skin slid within the suit. It felt 
wonderful, but it wasn't normal, and that scared the 
hell out of me, so I stopped trying to move. I didn't 
want to stop, mind you. It felt very, very nice. Like 
sexual sensations. Wonderful, really. But I could tell 
that something was very wrong with me, and I was more 
than a little frightened.

I was breathing okay, but with some difficulty. I 
realized that I was embedded inside something rigid. I 
could only breathe by exhaling, forcing the air out of 
my lungs, since whatever had me in it's grip didn't 
allow my chest to expand at all.

"Um, I can't seem to move right now," I said nervously. 
"Why? What's wrong with the suit?"

"It's ah, well, for one thing, it's not purple any 
more. It's black. I thought maybe it had gotten really 
hot or something."

"No, at least I don't think so. I feel fine. I felt a 
little warm when I was... when it... well anyway, I'm 
not burned or anything."

"And it's a lot shinier than it was too," he added.

"Huh. Well right now, it's also rock solid, and I want 
out."

"Don't worry hon, we'll have you out of there in no 
time," my love told me. He glanced at his watch. "Shit! 
The others will be here any minute, they're supposed to 
come in early! I've got to get you out of here!"

He tugged at my arm.

"Listen hon, I can't seem to budge your suit- it's gone 
completely rigid."

So that was it!

"No kidding, really?" I shot back. "I can't move. Heh. 
This could be great fun, if I weren't so scared."

"What on earth possessed you to... never mind. We'll 
cover that later.

Um, are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. I feel good. Really good, actually. I mean, 
every time I move, I get these incredible sensations, 
like sex, only on my skin... whatever I move... or um, 
try to move."

I paused to take stock of my body, trying to move 
something, anything. Once again, waves of pleasure shot 
through me, but it was a fruitless exercise. I tried 
turning my head, opening my jaw. Nope. It was as if I 
were cast in stone.

"Okay, listen honey- I'm going to take you home, okay? 
We have to get you out of here before my partners show 
up. They would flip if they found out! Okay, here we 
go- Oof!"

To my amazement, he picked me up, and with some 
difficulty, carried me to the door. My husband is a 
scientist not a linebacker, and I knew he couldn't 
carry me very far. At the door, he had to set me down 
again, and turn me around, then pull me by the 
shoulders through the narrow doorway. I was completely 
helpless. He tried to pick me up again, but the heroic 
effort he'd made in the lab must have worn him out. He 
couldn't do it.

It's not that I'm heavy, mind you! I'm in great shape. 
But the only exercise my husband gets is popping the 
top on a Coke while starting into a computer screen. He 
had to drag me the rest of the way to the front door.

He got me to the outside door and dragged me through, 
when an amazing thing happened. Suddenly, I could move! 
I couldn't see as well, since it was dark out, but I 
wiggled, and he nearly dropped me in shock. 

"What the hell?" he said. He set me carefully on my 
feet. "It softened! Thank God, it must have been a 
temporary effect. Do you feel okay, hon-can you walk?

I nodded. But as soon as I started to move, those same 
amazing, delicious sensations coursed through me, from 
all over my body now, as the tight suit slithered 
around my lubricated skin. The little dildos that I'd 
put back in were still rockin' and rollin' too. I 
moaned and came to a halt, shuddering.

"What is it? What's wrong?" my hubby asked. There was 
panic in his voice. He must have thought something 
terrible had happened to me, that I must be suffering.

I turned slowly, carefully, so I could keep my thoughts 
coherent.

"I'm fine. It just feels... TOO GOOD," I said slowly.

"What?! What does?"

"Everything, moving anything feels like, well, like I 
said, like sex! 

My whole skin feels like one big erogenous zone!"

He stared at me then, as he might have stared at a 
particularly interesting insect that had wandered onto 
his desk.

"Well. I'll. Be. Damned." he finally said. "But other 
than that, you're sure you're all right. Nothing else 
is wrong?" 

I nodded silently, the suit silently making love to my 
neck and scalp as I did so.

"Right then, let's get you home." He fairly dragged me 
to his car, while I tottered and stumbled on my 
stiletto heels. Ignoring my protests and moans of 
excitement, except to ask once if I was still okay, he 
stuffed me into the passenger seat, and took off like a 
shot. I nearly came just climbing in.

When we got home he pulled me inside, turned on the 
light, and I promptly froze. That's when we figured it 
out; that the suit is light sensitive. In the bright 
light of our front hall chandelier, I was frozen solid, 
the suit having once again turned as solid as marble. I 
figured it out right away of course, it took my husband 
a little longer.

"What's wrong?" Jurgen asked, not realizing why I had 
stopped. He closed the door behind us and grabbed me by 
the wrist, and as soon as he did, the truth dawned on 
him. He turned out the light. I could move again. He 
turned it on, I became a statue. Or rather, the suit 
did, and since I was stuck inside it, I was just as 
immobilized. He turned the light off again. I moved my 
arm, letting him know I could move. I should mention 
that "move" is relative. The suit was as restricting as 
it had been when I first put it on. The heavy boning on 
the corset for example, made it quite impossible for me 
to bend at the waist. 

He took my hand and guided me into the living room, sat 
me in a chair, turned on the light. He tapped on the 
suit with a pen. It made a hard click, as if I had been 
carved from granite.

"Damn. This is very interesting. I guess I can't go 
back to the lab-there's no way I can leave you alone 
like this," he said.

He called the lab, leaving a voice mail message that a 
family emergency had come up, and then started 
examining me in earnest.

"Well, interesting suit or not, we've got to get you 
out of it so we can check you out. There's no telling 
what changes have happened to you. I want to get you to 
a hospital." So saying, he turned the dimmer until the 
lights were softer, and we found that the suit 
gradually became softer as the light dimmed. 

"Huh. Okay, I'll be right back." He pounded upstairs 
and back again, and I saw a gleam in his hand. He had 
the key to the little lock I'd put on the corset flap. 
He turned me over and fumbled behind me. I felt, rather 
than heard the click as the lock was removed, then I 
heard him swear softly.

"Well, I'll be damned," he said softly.

"What?" 

His tone worried me. He turned me back over, and 
examined the collar of the suit. He plucked at it, 
tugged at it.

"Son of a bitch." he said. I hadn't heard him swear 
this much in one day for as long I'd known him. I was 
getting really worried now.

"What's wrong, dammit?" I said, alarm rising in my 
throat.

"It's just that... Well, dammit, your helmet seems to 
have melted some."

"What!" I said. I was on the verge of panic now.

"Now hold on a second," he soothed, in his best Daddy-
will-fix-it voice, "don't get excited. The suit 
material where the neck meets the helmet appears to 
have ah, sort of welded together. In fact, I can't see 
any of the glue seams where the suit was put together, 
it's sort of smoothed out. Neat effect, really, but 
it's going to be a lot harder to get it off you. I 
don't think we can stretch that mouth hole around your 
entire body. Hmm. I'm just going to have to cut it off, 
I'm afraid."

"You've got to be kidding!" I yelled, "This suit cost 
us nearly three thousand dollars!"

"Right!" he retorted, "What's more important: your 
health, or a piece of fun clothing? I'll buy you 
another one, for God's sake!"

I fumed, but I did it silently. To be honest, I was 
worried too, and while I really felt fine, I wanted to 
be checked out by a doctor.

He came back with a pair of bandage cutters from the 
first aid kit. I was grateful, considering I didn't 
particularly want my skin sliced open. He couldn't get 
the blunt lower edge to penetrate. Not to be defeated, 
he pulled a fold of the suit away from my skin. The 
bandage cutters wouldn't nick it.

"Huh," he said, and left the room. He came back with 
the Fiskars shears from my sewing kit. They're really 
sharp, I've cut myself with them more than once. They 
didn't even mark the suit. Jurgen looked up into my 
eyes, which admittedly, he probably couldn't see 
through the dark lenses.

I stared back anyway.

"Toto," he said seriously, "I don't think this is latex 
any more."

"Very funny," I said, "then what is it? Come on, get me 
out of this!"

"I'm working on it, I'm working on it. And to be 
honest, I don't KNOW what it is. But I do know that no 
rubber I've ever seen resists a good sharp pair of 
scissors! Lemme try something else. Hold on a sec." 

He disappeared again.

I heard him go down to his lab / workshop in the 
basement. When he returned, he had a pair of heavy duty 
metal cutting sheers in his hand. Needless to say, they 
didn't work. I was beginning to get the idea at that 
point, but it took a lot longer for the real truth to 
sink in.

"Okay hon, I want your permission to try a knife."

"Hey, wait a damn minute here! Lemme think," I said. 
Then I had an idea. "This reminds me of when we did the 
body cast thing, remember? So what if you..."

I saw the light go on over his head, and he took off 
again. He returned in a few minutes with the cast saw 
he had bought a few years ago, when he had put me in a 
plaster cast.

He turned the room lights up full and the suit became 
rigid. He turned the saw on, and I winced at the awful 
whine it made. I had to remind myself that the 
oscillating blade wouldn't cut skin, just the hard, 
rigid suit material.

He pressed the blade against the whatever-it-was, and 
it made an awful racket. After a moment, I noticed it 
wasn't making any dust. He took the saw away and looked 
down in amazement. There wasn't any sign of his efforts 
except for a slightly glossier area on the already 
shiny material.

"Um," he said.

"No go, huh?"

"Nope. Lemme think a moment." 

After a long pause, during which I mentally kicked 
myself a thousand times for meddling with that damned 
machine, he spoke again.

"Okay. What I need to do is get another sample of this 
material, so I can play with it, find out if there's a 
solvent for it, find out what will cut it, and so on."

"But I thought you said the other researchers were 
going to be showing up soon," I argued. 

I felt a little more calm now, since it didn't look 
like I was in any immediate danger. My darling was a 
brain- he would figure something out!

"They are. I'll have to go back tomorrow night with 
some latex, expose it the same way, and hopefully, I'll 
wind up with a material with the same properties."

"And in the meantime?" I asked, beginning to wonder how 
long I would have to spend in the suit.

"In the meantime, you should try to relax. You've had a 
long day. 

Why don't I put you to bed?"


February 20th
-------------
Dear Diary,

I took another break from writing. It's hard sometimes, 
looking back, and wondering how I could have been so 
stupid as to get myself into this position. Not to 
mention thinking about the future, and what will become 
of me. I was thirty-two when the accident occurred. How 
long do I have now? 

Geez, this is becoming a book all by itself! Poor 
diary, it looks like I'm running out of pages, and I 
might have to continue this in another binder. Don't 
worry, it will still be a part of you- a part of my 
life. Perhaps I shall put all of this into one big 
story some day and have it published. There would be no 
danger, although I'm sure Jurgen would never agree to 
it. After who would believe it- it's too fantastic! My 
husband has been keeping tabs on the project that 
caused all this, and there hasn't been anything really 
new discovered. But I'm getting ahead of myself again. 
I was telling you about the accident. We had just 
gotten home, and Jurgen had tried to get the suit off 
me, with no luck at all...

"In the meantime, you should try to relax. You've had a 
long day. 

Why don't I put you to bed?" 

I allowed as how that might be a good idea. He turned 
down the lights and helped me up the stairs to the 
bedroom. I admit, the sensation I experienced just from 
climbing the stairs nearly made me come half way there. 
He tried to tuck me into bed, but I was all over him as 
soon as he let me go. Between the trip home, and the 
brief hike up the stairs, I was raring to go, and I let 
him know in no uncertain terms. I suppose I was doing a 
slow boil even downstairs, but my nervousness at being 
trapped had preoccupied me. I guess I'd decided I would 
be okay, because I'd forgotten all about that now. I 
pushed him onto his back, and nearly tore his pants 
from him. I did pop a few buttons getting his shirt off 
before I attacked his nipples. He moaned and crushed my 
latex -encased head against his chest. I slipped out of 
his hands and slid my attentions lower, licking along 
the way to my goal. 

When I got there, he was already at attention, his 
gorgeous cock pulsing in time to his heartbeat, a tiny 
drop of pre-come glistening on the tip. Jurgen does NOT 
do that unless he has been aroused for a while. I knew 
then that he must have been as turned on as I was at my 
"predicament", but had been suppressing it while he 
worried about how to get me out.

I serviced him with complete abandon, wiggling as I did 
so, for with every squirm and shimmy, hot waves of 
pleasure, like surges of liquid electricity, shot 
through me. I had never enjoyed giving head more, and 
I'm sure it must have showed in my performance.

Before he could come however, he pushed me off of him, 
and in a husky voice, ordered me to stretch out on the 
bed. Ah, this was more like the old Jurgen! It had been 
so long...

I stretched out, and he positioned me spread-eagle, as 
if her were going to tie my limbs to the bed posts for 
the hundredth time. But once he had me the way he 
wanted, he simply walked over and turned on the light! 
Instantly, I was frozen in that position, immobilized 
as never before.

"Don't go anywhere," he said with a brief smile, before 
I heard his footsteps pounding downstairs. He 
reappeared moments later with the pump gag I had worn 
to the lab. 

"Gee, bored with my mouth so soon, dear?" I'm such a 
card- I just _had_ to shoot my mouth off. He didn't 
reply, just stuffed in the bladder and snapped the 
flange into place. I hummed softly with delight as he 
pumped it up. I do so love being gagged, and there is 
nothing so satisfyingly mouth-filling as a well-made 
pump gag. The bladder filled my mouth to capacity, and 
the effect was made even more severe, given that my 
cheeks and jaw were unable to expand, due to the now-
rigid hood. I moaned as the pressure increased, and was 
startled to hear how quiet the sound was. This material 
absorbed sound quite well. Jurgen took my moan as a 
cue, and stopped pumping.

I could see that the whole situation had my sweetheart 
in a terrible state of arousal. He was shaking 
slightly, and his cock stood out stiff, despite the 
lack of attention paid to it in the last few minutes. 
It was pulsing slightly with his heartbeat, as hard and 
large as I'd ever seen it.

When he was finished pumping, he climbed back onto the 
bed with me, and to my disappointment, did not enter me 
immediately. I was ready, oh, how I was ready, and it 
was obvious he was too, but my dear sadistic husband 
had other plans. It's a sign of his love for me that he 
put my pleasure ahead of his own. He lay down next to 
me, and using one hand, began to gently tug and tweak 
the rings in my sex. He avoided my knob, damn him, 
instead teasing everything else, getting as close to my 
clit as he could without actually touching it.

I squirmed and writhed inside my hard, shiny prison, 
and each movement amplified the pleasure he gave me as 
waves of sexual energy shot out from my skin where it 
rubbed inside the suit. I could see that this new set 
of erogenous zones would be a real problem if I didn't 
get out of the suit!

Finally, he let go my outer sex, and gently flicked my 
clit ring with the end of his finger. After only a few 
flicks, I was ready to explode, and I tried to let him 
know with the incoherent noises I was making through 
the gag, but it was no use. Finally, just as I thought 
I would die from excitement, he stopped, and climbed on 
top of me quickly. All at once and nothing first, he 
rammed into me up to the hilt in one thrust. The hot 
thickness of him, and his pubic bone crushing against 
my clit was all that I needed, and I was off on the 
wildest ride of my life (at least at that point), my 
rigidly held body spasming and convulsing against the 
hard confines of my suit. After a few seconds of this, 
my forebrain hung up the "Out To Lunch" sign, and I 
ceased to think, just revelling in the ecstasy as wave 
after wave of climax and spending rolled over me.

After some unknown time, (Jurgen told me later I came 
for a minute or so), I realized he hadn't moved at all 
since that first urgent thrust. As soon as he did, 
starting before I was even wound down from my first set 
of climaxes, I was off again, coming almost 
continuously as he pounded relentlessly into my greedy, 
twitching sex.

I think I passed out.

When I became aware again, the lights were low, the 
pump gag was no filling my mouth, and I could move 
again. Jurgen's face was hovering over mine.

"All you all right?"

"Mmmm," I answered, as I looked around for the part of 
my brain that did the talking, "ahh, yes. I'm very much 
`all right'. I love you."

"I love you too, hon. Can I towel you off? We seem to 
have made a mess."

I giggled. "Okay." As he rubbed gently at my crotch (we 
kept old towels in the underdresser of the bed for "sex 
towels"), I clamped my thighs on his hand.

"Wait. Take it easy, I'm still a little sensitive."

He climbed off me, smiled, and said, "I'll be right 
back. Will you be okay?"

I nodded, thinking it unusual for him to climb out of 
bed so soon after sex. One nice thing about my husband, 
he always stays with me, cuddling and talking, if I 
want, after sex. One of the biggest complaints I've 
heard from the few other wives I've talked to about 
sex, is that their husbands always either roll over and 
go to sleep, or jump out of bed to go do something, and 
don't understand why you'd want to just lie there and 
cuddle quietly for an hour.

I got more and more irked as the clock ticked on 
(actually, our bedside clock is a digital electronic 
one, but you know what I mean) and no hubby. But I 
forgave him instantly, as he appeared about fifteen 
minutes later, carrying a tray laden with two steaming 
mugs, and a plate of Pfeffernuse cookies, Jurgen's 
specialty. That's right, my darling, on top of all his 
other talents, can cook too. With the exception of not 
being much of an athlete, he is such a renaissance man.

Setting the tray on the bedside table, he clambered 
back into the bed with me, and though I could move just 
fine, insisted on feeding me himself, alternating 
little sips of hot chocolate laced with peppermint 
schnapps, and bites of cookie. I was in heaven, and not 
having to move at all allowed me to relax completely. 
After a mug of that potent concoction, I went out like 
a light.


August 3rd
----------
Dear Diary,

It has been nearly six months now since The Accident, 
as we have come to call it. As you may have guessed by 
now, dear Diary, all the rest of his attempts to remove 
the suit, or even to scratch it, have been fruitless. 
Oh sure, he tried everything short of killing me. He 
went back to the lab and tried making more of the 
material. It didn't work. Well, strictly speaking, 
that's not true. Once it turned a piece of the same 
exact latex into a puddle of foul smelling liquid, but 
that wasn't exactly helpful. We both agree that it 
would be extremely foolish, not to mention quite 
dangerous, to expose me to the machine again. So that's 
out. He has tried stretching it away from my body and 
cutting it with a torch. It turns out the suit conducts 
heat very well. The whole thing got uncomfortably hot 
pretty fast, and the torch didn't even leave a mark on 
it.

I've gotten used to the suit though. I know I may very 
likely spend the rest of my life in it. I've adjusted 
to the idea, and well, there are some really nice 
benefits. I'm beginning to think of it as a part of me. 
When I look in the mirror, I see the same thing every 
day, and to me, it's just the way my body looks now.

We've figured out that some profound changes have 
happened to me, and not just the fact that my entire 
body is now an erogenous zone. Like Jurgen's rabbit at 
the lab, I haven't been eating. I haven't even been 
hungry. I haven't had to go to the bathroom (thank 
God!) and apparently, I'm not even sweating. I should 
have started smelling bad, not to mention itching, 
after being trapped in the suit for only a few days 
(without a bath), but that has never happened. I think 
my nails have stopped growing, too.

There is something else though, and it's implications 
are so frightening, I didn't tell my husband for two 
days after I figured it out.

I know now where I am getting my energy. The question 
arose as soon as I stopped eating, because let's face 
it, _something_ was keeping me alive and warm, if it 
wasn't food. 

It's light. 

Somehow, the suit itself (I think) is feeding me, 
keeping me renewed, who knows, perhaps even keeping me 
young, by absorbing light, and then doing... well, 
whatever it does. 

To test this, I stayed in the dark a whole day and on 
into that night. By evening I felt weak and dizzy. As 
soon as Jurgen turned on the lights, I felt an intense 
tingling warmth all over me, and within minutes I felt 
much better. When he took me down to the kitchen, which 
has better lighting, the feeling got much stronger- in 
fact, it felt really good.

Jurgen got a big work light from his shop and played it 
across me and the sensations were incredible! It was 
very similar to how I felt during The Accident itself, 
although no where near the intensity. We have played 
with this phenomenon a few times since, as a reward to 
me when I've been good. "When I have been good." Hee-
hee! Yes, diary, we have been getting more and more 
into the dominance and submission side of the kinky 
games we have always played.

We have heavy drapes on all the windows now, and 
dimmers on all the lights so I can move around the 
house. But Jurgen can always immobilize me totally, 
whenever he wishes, with the twist of a knob. Whenever 
he is at work I have been staying indoors during the 
day, out of paranoia I suppose, even though our nearest 
neighbors are miles away on the other side of the 
ridge, and we never get uninvited guests. We both know 
that I'm now a scientific curiosity, and neither one of 
us wants me to become a guinea pig in some secret 
government laboratory.

Unfortunately, we had to spread the word that he and I 
have gotten a divorce, and that I moved away 
immediately, otherwise it would be awkward when guests 
came to visit. There would be too many questions.

But anyway, I had been playing with light a lot when 
Jurgen was at work. We have this big police flashlight 
in the kitchen drawer that is very bright. The feelings 
I got by playing over my "skin" were incredible. I 
could shine it on just one breast, and get the same 
sensations emanating from there as I do when I ah, 
"jill off". 

So a few weeks ago, I decided I just had to try out 
direct sunlight. I knew Jurgen would have fits, because 
of what might happen if someone discovered me, but 
really, no one ever came to the house any more, except 
for the occasionally parcel delivery man, and we 
weren't expecting any packages. And besides, it was one 
of those times when Jurgen was busy on the project 
again, and I'd been suffering a lack of his attentions 
lately. We already knew, through fooling around with 
the flashlight, that the only parts of the suit that 
are affected by light or dark are the ones that are 
exposed. In other words, I can stick my arm in a 
lighted closet, and it becomes rigid, but not the rest 
of the suit.

So a few weeks ago, I left Jurgen a note on the 
refrigerator telling him he could find me in the back 
yard. I dug out one of our oldest toys, a leather body 
bag with a drawstring top that was in poor condition, 
and cut the bottom out of it. I pulled it on over me, 
with my head poking through the top, and snugged the 
string around my neck. The bag reached the floor, 
covering my feet. I went outside, into the back yard. 
As soon as the sun hit me, my neck and head went rigid, 
and a tremendous, indescribably delicious sensation 
sprang up all around the area. There was a sort of 
rushing hum, like a chorus of voices, in my ears. As I 
walked, I could feel my booted feet alternately going 
rigid, then softening (somewhat- they had never been 
all that soft), and little pulses of electric joy shot 
up from them as they peeked out from under the bag. I 
walked into the middle of the yard, where I knew I'd be 
well-lit for the next eight hours or so.

I loosened the string at my neck, spread my feet a 
little and dug my heels into the grass. I hesitated. 
The wonderful feelings from my feet and head and neck 
made me wonder whether I could stand the full effect 
without going nuts. What I was about to do might make 
me crazy. But I wanted it. Oh God, diary, how I wanted 
it. I screwed my courage to the sticking point, let go 
of the string and dropped my arms. The bag slid down my 
body, and I felt the suit stiffen as the light reached 
the rest of it. And as the full warmth of the sun hit 
the suit, I gasped in shock and mindless delight as the 
electrified tongues of a thousand phantom lovers closed 
upon my body. Rational thought left me, and within 
seconds, I came. 

I came and came and came, mentally and physically and 
spiritually, in an unending and relentless orgasm that 
went beyond the merely physical sensations of sex and 
swept away my mind on waves of joy and delight and 
climax and spending, on and on and on. 

The first thing I remember after dropping the bag was 
Jurgen looking at me from a few feet away. The sun must 
have set, although the sky was still light, and the 
suit was still rigid. The sensations had reduced in 
intensity quite a bit however- I could think somewhat 
clearly again. The look on my husband's face was 
inscrutable, however. I was so weak he had to carry me 
inside, which wasn't easy, as I've said before. As soon 
as I gathered my wits somewhat, I began to cry.

"Honey, what's wrong?" he asked, but I think he already 
knew the answer.

"That was so beautiful, so perfect, so... so much. I 
want it back. I don't ever want it to end." I knew how 
I sounded. I had heard begging like that when I had 
worked as a volunteer in a drug rehabilitation center.

I am an addict.

But my husband's love has helped me through it. Though 
he is physically ordinary, emotionally Jurgen must be 
the strongest husband any woman could have. He keeps me 
happy. The sex is still great, although after that one 
day, I thought I would never want ordinary sex (or 
kinky sex for that matter) again. But the body forgets 
with time, and I still feel incredible pleasure just 
from walking around. 

Jurgen seems to be happy with our sex life, although I 
think he's a little jealous of the heights of pleasure 
I am capable of reaching that are forever denied to 
him. I have begun to worry about him.


June 21st
---------
Dear Diary,

It has been nearly a year since I last wrote. Life has 
been up and down. For a while the physical differences 
between myself and Jurgen, and the terrible isolation 
imposed upon me by the suit seemed almost too much to 
bear for both of us. But what could I do, where could I 
go? I spent a long time thinking suicidal thoughts, but 
eventually, I pulled through it. Our relationship has 
improved, we are sleeping together, playing together 
again. And now, there appears to be a light at the end 
of the tunnel at last.

Last night I awoke to the sound of muttering.

The room was dimly lit, and I sat up to find Jurgen 
hunched over the little desk we have in the corner of 
our bedroom. We use it mostly for writing letters. The 
light in the room came from the lamp on the desk. He 
was writing or drawing something, and occasionally 
talking to himself. Jurgen almost never talks to 
himself unless he is intent on some very important 
project. I wondered what he might be up to.

I sat up on one elbow and said, "What are you working 
on, hon?"

He answered without looking up.

"We had a breakthrough at the lab. Siegfried, he's our 
math whiz you know, came up with some formulas to 
describe how the D.S.M. machine works. With them, we 
should be able to calibrate and control it more 
accurately, by an order of magnitude."

"Oh. Well then... wait a minute," I said, "does that 
mean there's any chance you can duplicate my suit 
material? Or the effects it had on my body?"

"It means, my dear, that we'll be able to produce any 
effect we want, within the limits of physical laws... 
and hopefully, reverse them as well."

Finally, he turned away from the desk and looked at me.

"Does that mean what I think it means?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Will it be safe?" 

"I'm certain of it. Look. Um, you know how I feel about 
the accident," he began. I interrupted him.

"And YOU know how I feel. I'm as happy as I ever was! I 
admit, I'd like a change of pace... I mean, I'd like to 
be able to... well, it would be nice just to feel your 
skin against mine again..."

"Yes. That's what I mean. This thing is keeping us 
apart. It's driving me crazy! I'd be happy if you were 
well, normal again, or for that matter, if I was just 
like you! But... I need to know what you want."

"I want you to be happy," I said, and I meant it. "I 
want us to be able to share each other completely. If 
that means you becoming like me, fine. If it means me 
becoming normal again, so be it."

"All right. But I think I can work it out so we can 
have the best of both worlds..."

I was sleepy, and my eyes were drooping. "Okay dear, 
but why don't you come to bed?" I glanced at the clock. 
"It's three A.M.!"

He came to bed, and we cuddled together and slept. My 
dreams were full of bizarre bondage devices, cackling 
mad scientists, and incongruously, rubber mermaids.


June 28th
---------
Dear Diary,

Nothing much new to report today. Jurgen says the 
modifications to the DSM machine are going well, and 
should be finished soon. We have decided to put a high 
brick wall around the property, for security and 
privacy. The workers are out there right now. When it 
is finished, we won't have to worry about anyone seeing 
or bothering me.
Even if we are out in the middle of nowhere, we are 
both still paranoid. Neither one of us wants me to 
become a scientific curiosity. And I'll be able to stay 
outside during the day if I want. I'm not sure I want 
to go through that again, as incredible as it was, 
because I think I am already addicted to it. I wonder 
if this is how a recovered drug addict feels. They say 
that the first time you smoke "crack" cocaine, it is 
better than an orgasm. I hope I never find out. Anyway, 
I'll be glad when the wall is done. Having the workmen 
around makes me nervous.


July 6th
--------
Dear Diary,

The wall around the property is finished. It looks 
nice, and is about eight feet high, so it's unlikely 
anyone will be able to see in. Jurgen has had a pair of 
fancy wooden gates installed with an automatic opener 
at the driveway. There is also a small locked postern 
door in the back that opens onto our old hiking trail.
Jurgen made another couple of toys for my suit, just to 
keep things interesting. They are a pair of inflatable 
plugs that fit the sheaths still stuck inside me. The 
pumps are little detachable puffer bulbs, and what's 
more, he's put a little battery operated light inside 
each one, so once he's blown them up, he can freeze 
them that size. He finished them last night and we 
played. God, I never dreamed I could be stretched so 
much! He did it gradually, giving my poor abused 
muscles time to stretch and relax. After about an hour, 
I felt like I was getting an enema, both front and 
rear. Then he pressed the little switch on each one, 
and removed the pumps. I could hardly walk- I imagined 
that this was how a pregnant woman feels giving birth. 
Of course I know it isn't that bad, because giving 
birth is painful.
Later, he got out his big flashlight, and played it 
over my breasts, crotch, and the rest of my body for 
about an hour. I never quite came, although the 
sensations were exquisite. Afterwards, we had sex, good 
old fashioned conventional sex, and it was the best 
we've had in a month.
They have started doing tests on the modified DSM 
machine. Jurgen came home yesterday with a piece of 
rubber that has the physical properties as my suit- it 
gets hard in the light. There may be hope yet!
Nothing much else new to write about.


July 11th
---------

Jurgen says they are running tests on animals now. They 
reversed the physiological "photosynthesis" effect on 
that rabbit, apparently with no ill effects. It is just 
like a normal rabbit, eating and crapping regularly, 
thank God. I'm so excited!


July 14th
---------

More tests at the lab. Jurgen has been playing with 
rubber and plastics after hours. He's managed to make 
an inverse form of the same latex as my suit- it 
becomes rigid in the dark, and softens in light. He 
also made some rubber that is very, very soft. It was 
originally ordinary thick latex- a piece of an old pair 
of ankle boots. But now it stretches to ridiculous 
limits, and is very soft- it contracts very slowly. 
Another sample he came up with is crystal clear, yet it 
feels just like regular latex rubber!


July 16th
---------

Jurgen came home with that "I know a secret" look of 
his. When I asked him what was up, he smiled and said 
very quietly,

"I think I'm ready to get you out of the suit."

"But... but, what... I mean," I stammered. I was at a 
loss for words. I was conflicted too. I wasn't one 
hundred percent certain I wanted to be freed now. And I 
was afraid. The machine had made me different- had made 
me a sex-toy that lived on, and got off on, light. What 
might it do to me this time?

"What do you want to do?" I temporized. I wasn't ready 
to commit.

"We can tune it very closely now. I should be able to 
soften the suit enough that we can take it off, without 
affecting you at all."

"And what about me... my body? Can you change me?"

He looked uncomfortable. 

"Yes, but... what do you want?" he asked

"I'm not sure. I think I like being the way I am. It 
seems harmless, and helpful, my figure stays perfect, 
my skin is flawless, everything about my body stays 
perfect, without my doing anything. Who knows- I might 
be immortal! I only wish..."

"What?"

"It... um, it's not really fair of me to ask."

"What?"

"Well, I wish... I mean, I get so much enjoyment, I can 
feel so good, it's out of this world, I can't begin to 
describe it, and yet, you're stuck with the same old 
body... it doesn't seem fair to you."

"I know. That's why I've decided to join you."
 
I was shocked for a moment. Then a rush of joy ran 
through me. Followed by a shadow of doubt.

"But hon, I've been thinking. I get off, I feel good, I 
get recharged and so on, when light hits the _suit_, 
not me. I mean, the suit isn't transparent. So somehow, 
it's the suit that's feeding me, I think. What 
about..."

"I know. It doesn't matter how it works. We can read 
the structural and chemical differences between you and 
me, and the DSM will make me just like you- it doesn't 
matter how it works, and we don't even have to 
understand it."

"But what about the suit! I'll still have to wear the 
suit!"

"Not all the time- only when you want to. And consider: 
once we've softened your suit, we can cut it, add a 
zipper, make it something you can put on and take off. 
Hell, we might even be able to duplicate the material 
and make one just like it for me!"

Well, to make a long story short, we went back to the 
lab that very night. I was quivering with excitement, 
both from a fear of being discovered in the bizarre 
outfit that had been sealed on me for so long, and from 
a nagging sense of doubt. What if we were missing some 
important part of the puzzle?

After my husband had made sure that no one else was 
about, he led me to the lab again, turning out the 
lights so I could move around. I noticed another entire 
rack of equipment had been added, and the platform and 
machine itself looked more "slick", more professionally 
finished now.

"Okay, we're warmed up," my love's voice said from 
behind the control console. "Step up on the platform 
and I'll scan you."

The platform began turning, and then the humming 
started, but I felt nothing. Perhaps there was the 
faintest warmth, but I may heave imagined it.

After a few moments, he said, "Got it. Now it's my 
turn."

He appeared from behind the racks and took my place on 
the platform. Then a look of fear crossed his face, and 
he said, "Good lord! I almost forgot!"

He began undressing as he spoke. "Wouldn't want to do 
anything strange to my clothes, would I?" He chuckled 
to make light of the grave error he had almost made. 
Soon he was nude.

"Okay, so what do I do?" I asked.

"It's all set up, just walk back to that panel."

I did.

"Now, do you see the key switch on the left? Turn that 
to the right."

I did as I was told.

"Now, just to the right is a red button inside a black 
safety shroud. Press that."

I did. There was a humming, followed by the same 
*thump* I had heard that last time so many months ago, 
and a shiver went up my spine. 

"Okay, turn the key off," came his voice, sounding 
somewhat puzzled.

I obeyed, and shot out from behind the console to check 
on my love.

He looked as puzzled as he had sounded, but was 
obviously fine.

"How do you feel?" I asked. I was worried sick.

"Oh fine, fine. I'm a little weak, and suddenly I feel 
kind of hungry, but that's okay."

"I'll make you a huge steak when we get home. But is 
that all?" I asked, remembering how I had climaxed 
under the influence of the machine.

"Yeah. Didn't you say you got excited and came, when 
you were exposed?"

"Yes. You didn't feel anything?"

"No, just a warmth. But don't worry, we'll find out 
soon enough whether it worked. Right now, I want to get 
you out of that suit!"

"Okay, I'm... I'm ready."

I clambered back up onto the turntable, while Jurgen 
babbled.

"We've got a data storage system on it now. I stored 
the parameters for that super soft rubber, and the 
clear stuff too, on disk, along with a lot of other 
things we came up with. All I have to do is recall 
them. I've already confirmed as best I can that these 
settings don't affect anything but that material you're 
wearing. Okay, are you ready?"

I nodded, then remembered he couldn't see me from where 
he stood.

"I'm ready," I called.

I heard the humming, then the thump, and that was all. 
I hadn't felt a thing. But as soon as I moved I did. It 
felt like my suit was falling off! The sensation was so 
alien to me that I was badly startled. It was loose! 
Jurgen came over and helped me down from the platform. 
Laying me down on a workbench, he poked the suit 
carefully with a pair of scissors.

Sure enough, it could be cut! My dear mad scientist had 
finally done it! The suit was now so loose that I could 
have literally slid it from my body if the hood had not 
become permanently attached. But we had planned for 
this. Jurgen made a careful cut with bandage scissors 
from my waist at the front, through the crotch, and up 
the back to the crown of the helmet. Although I slid 
out of it easily, the lack of support from the corset 
section was quite uncomfortable, and I could already 
feel my back muscles complaining. Later, we would 
cement a heavy duty zipper into the slice, and re-zap 
the suit with Jurgen's widget. Then it could be put on 
and taken off at will.

"Honey," I told him, "I think you'd better lace me into 
one of my old corsets when I get home- my back is 
already killing me."

"Hmm, well, that's fine if we still have them- I think 
they're in those boxes in the storage shed. After all, 
we weren't sure you'd ever need them again! But right 
now, we'd better clean up and get out of here."

What we hadn't thought of was what I'd wear home if we 
did get the suit off! Jurgen found a spare lab coat, 
and after a while, I wore it home. I say "after a 
while" because we spent the better part of an hour just 
exploring my body and skin. Neither one of us had seen 
my real body in well over a year! He played with my 
piercings some, which had been inaccessible for so 
long, and that led to other things, and, well, I'm sure 
you can imagine. I wonder what some of his more 
conservative, greyer-haired cohorts would think if they 
knew the uses to which we put various benches, desks, 
and consoles during that hour or so.

My first inkling that anything was wrong came when we 
got home. As I had promised, I made Jurgen a decent 
all-American steak-and-potatoes dinner, something we 
seldom indulge in. He ate with gusto, but it came right 
back up. I was appalled, but he shrugged it off to 
stress and perhaps a flu bug that had been going around 
the lab, and after a while, I calmed down. We turned in 
then, both of us exhausted by the day's events.


July 18th
---------

This is not good. Jurgen can't eat anything. He tried 
to eat breakfast this morning and it wouldn't stay 
down. He took some pills for motion sickness, hoping 
they'd quell the nausea, and went to work, saying he 
felt fine, just tired. Then this evening, he came home 
looking like he'd been run over by a truck, pale and 
exhausted, and still couldn't eat anything. If he isn't 
better in the morning, I'm keeping him home from work 
and sending him to the clinic.


July 21st
---------

Well, wonder of wonders! We have created another 
monster. We found out yesterday, by accident. Jurgen 
still had not eaten, and what's more, was too weak to 
get out of bed. He had gone in to the clinic, which had 
pronounced him fit and disease-free, but probably 
suffering from stress and over-work, which by then we 
both knew was nonsense. Something had happened to him, 
something the DSM machine had done, and it wasn't what 
had happened to me. We had no way of knowing what it 
was, and I secretly steeled myself to the knowledge 
that he might die. 

That night, I tried to comfort him with a little sex. 
The love of my life is blessed with a better-than-
average libido for a man his age, (or perhaps I should 
say _I_ am blessed, but I digress) but he told me he 
just didn't have the energy.

"No, no, hon, just lie back and relax! I'll do all the 
work. Whatever had gone wrong, it didn't seem to have 
harmed his equipment, since he got hard quickly from my 
attentions. I had decided to make this love making 
session something special, for who knew how long we 
might have together? After I had him at attention, I 
proceeded to ignore mister happy, much to my husband's 
chagrin, and gave him a long, leisurely tongue bath, 
something he loves, but which served only to frustrate 
him further. By the time I had deliberately waved my 
rear in his face for the third time, he was just about 
whining with unabated desire, and I decided to take 
pity on him. While I started to work his cock and balls 
over gently with my hands and mouth, I squatted 
carefully on his face.

After only a few moments however, I had stopped working 
on him, and just sat there distracted, as he proceeded 
to eat me with such gusto and abandon as I had not seen 
in years! In fact, he was making such ridiculous sounds 
of pleasure, lip-smacking and moaning and all (and I 
wasn't even touching him) that I began to giggle a 
little. He ignored me though, and as I slipped into the 
throws of my first orgasm of many that night, I 
witnessed a very curious thing indeed. He came- 
suddenly, and without warning, showering my chest, face 
and belly with his seed, and what's more, he _kept_ 
coming, growling and screaming into my crotch, not 
letting up his attentions for one second, as I watched, 
fascinated. His come kept pumping out for much longer 
than it ever had before, and when he ran out, I stared 
as his cock continued to pump and jerk in that tell 
tale way it has when he is coming. It took a long time 
before he wound down, and longer still before we 
finished that night, and finally slept.

We have the answer. 


July 25th
---------

We've been experimenting. Jurgen is better, although he 
is still weak, and is not ready to work again. He has 
called in sick and the doctor at the clinic gave him an 
explanatory note about "Chronic fatigue syndrome" or 
some such mumbo-jumbo.

Never the less, there is now no doubt whatsoever in our 
minds about his condition. My husband, through some 
perverse miracle of fate and physics, did NOT receive 
the changes I did, probably due to his being nude, and 
my wearing that suit. Instead, he appears to get both 
tremendous stimulation and nourishment from my come, my 
vaginal mucous! Isn't that a hoot?!

In fact, he is _dependent_ on me for his health and 
stamina! It would be every girl's dream, if it weren't 
for the fly in the ointment, more on that in a moment. 
What we don't know, of course, is whether the changes 
that occurred to my body have changed my secretions 
into something special that he can metabolize, or 
whether _any_ woman would do. We both admit to being 
curious, and we are both smart enough to realize it 
would be foolish to try to find out. 

And of course there is the stimulation aspect. He 
described it to me in ways that sounded vaguely like my 
own secret "affliction", which by the way, we have 
discovered, _does_ depend on the suit- we're still not 
sure about _that_, but anyway, he said it felt like 
swallowing heat and light, and that this warmth spread 
through his body and caused him to tingle all over, 
until his whole body felt like one big penis... sound 
familiar?

But there's another piece to all this- the other shoe, 
so to speak. He isn't getting better fast enough. We 
have sex as often as we can stand it, and it's keeping 
him going, but it isn't enough to get him back to his 
old energetic self again. We are casting about for 
solutions, but I worry... he can't stay a weakling- the 
frustration of that is already wearing on him. I don't 
know what to do- I think I just need to generate more 
"juice".
 
 
August 2nd
----------

Since I can go out now during the day without either 
been struck rigid or coming unglued, I have been 
sneaking to the library to look into this problem of 
ours. Jurgen bitches and moans about being stuck in bed 
at home, but I remind him of what it was like for me, 
and he is shamed into silence. I have to wear a long 
coat, slacks, a wide-brimmed hat, and sunglasses if 
it's bright outside, but I manage. A little light still 
falls on my face, and it feels very nice of course, but 
I can ignore it enough to function.

I found some interesting stuff in the medical stacks 
though. Hormones. It seems that some hormones given to 
women for other purposes were noted to increase vaginal 
secretions as a side effect. The only trouble is, how 
in hell do we get hormones without a prescription. I'm 
sure they'd be awfully curious about why the esteemed 
(and very male) physicist wanted female hormones. Sigh.


August 8th
----------

It seems that many of the simpler female hormones are 
also given to animals (human hormones work on animals? 
Hard to believe, but...). I am looking into this.

Jurgen is keeping busy by ordering some custom garments 
and toys for us from some of our favorite catalogs. He 
won't tell me what they are, and his mischief is 
refreshing to me- at least he's in good spirits, 
generally.


August 11th
-----------

Yes, there are human hormones being given to cattle, 
and yes, I have managed to score some from a veterinary 
supply store, although the clerk there gave me some 
strange looks. I tried dressing as "hick" as I could, 
but I don't think she believe me. I have what appears 
to be a _huge_ supply, and the shelf life if 
refrigerated is _years_. I haven't told Jurgen, he'd 
flip if he knew I was going to inject myself with 
hormones not approved for human use. I've stripped some 
of the warning labels off the bottle...


August 17th
-----------

Jurgen is back at work. That about says it all. And I 
need to go lie out in the sun- I'm bushed. My hubby 
wore me out last night, but he also seems to have had 
his fill. He went a little nuts, and at one point he 
was just grinning up at me, wild-eyed, as he shuddered 
and quaked on the bed. He looked like some crazed drug 
fiend, but he was hale and healthy, and he proved it 
several times last night. Wow! We're back in the saddle 
again, it seems! The only side effect I've noticed from 
the hormones has been a slight tenderness in my 
breasts- at least, I assume it's the hormones- I don't 
have any lumps. It's not painful, but I hope it goes 
away. If it doesn't, I'll go in for x-rays. I should 
add that while the hormones have increased my secretion 
a little, it hasn't been a whole lot. Jurgen had more 
energy this morning, but he still seemed a little tired 
(probably because he spent all his energy wearing ME 
out last night, the brute!), but really, it seems as 
though he gets more fun and stimulation, than real 
nutrition or energy from eating me.


August 19th
-----------

The tenderness in my breasts hasn't gone away, in fact 
if anything, it's gotten worse, and they have begun to 
feel a bit swollen and taught. I went to the clinic 
this morning, and they took x-rays, but they showed 
nothing suspicious or unhealthy. They wanted to do a 
complete physical, but I immediately imagined myself 
the center of a major medical inquiry, locked in a lab 
somewhere. I panicked and got out of there as fast as I 
could without raising suspicion. I am not sure, but I 
think they (my breasts) have grown some, too. I'm 
relieved, but still concerned. Jurgen came home pretty 
tired today, and it was all I could do to hold up my 
end in bed. I was still tired (and sore, I admit) from 
the night before! We are having sex more often and 
longer, than we ever did, even when everything was 
normal, just to keep him up and going. Despite that, he 
is still not back up to full steam. 


August 20th
-----------
Dear Diary,
 
Mystery solved, with happy consequences. I am 
lactating! Jurgen was sucking on my nipples last night, 
and to his surprise, got milk. And guess what! It seems 
to be even more energizing (if not nearly so 
stimulating) as my come, and he swears it is delicious 
and better than cow's milk. I tried some, and was 
unimpressed- very sweet, though. The greedy hunk sucked 
me dry though, and low and behold, the discomfort 
disappeared. I guess I know something of what it feels 
like to be a mommy now. Oh, and they are quite 
definitely larger, probably from all that milk they 
have to store.

Today, a package arrived in the mail from one of our 
fetish goods suppliers, but Jurgen had anticipated it's 
arrival and forbade me to open it. He said it wasn't 
finished, and he would have to work on it before he 
would be ready to show it off. I think I know something 
of what he is up to. This evening, he took off for work 
on the excuse that he had left some important papers at 
the office. After he left, I noticed the parcel was 
missing. Men are so transparent.

When he got back, he finally revealed what he had done. 
He had had two pairs of custom "adoration breeches" 
made- those rubber pants with a hood attached at the 
crotch, so someone can be "forced" to service you 
orally. These were mutually useful, in that the helmet 
was attached upside-down, so that two people could be 
wearing _each_other's_ breeches! They are made of very 
heavy rubber, and have plenty of breathing holes around 
the crotch and nose. Plus, he took one of his own suits 
to work and exposed it to the same program. We tested 
these toys out and they all work in exactly the same 
fashion as my suit used to.

Speaking of that suit, he has finished putting in the 
new zipper, which is small but strong, and air-tight- 
it's made for diver's "dry suits". He will expose the 
suit tomorrow during lunch. He is getting quite brazen, 
I think, but he seems worried about getting access to 
the machine- apparently the higher-ups are tightening 
security. Seems asinine to me, after all, he invented 
the thing!

I can't wait to try these new things of his this 
weekend!

Anyway, I'm very happy to see him rosy-cheeked and 
brimming over with energy.


August 23rd
-----------
Dear Diary,

It is Sunday, a day of rest for both Christians and my 
husband and I. It is also a day to reflect on bad news, 
and our very good luck. Friday, Jurgen took my suit and 
a whole pile of other things into work in that huge 
briefcase of his. He got them modified all right, and 
back into his case, but he also got caught by one of 
the new managers who demanded to know what he was doing 
in that part of the lab.

My dear retorted, rather hotly of course, that he had 
developed that machine, and he had more right to be 
there than the paper pusher did. That was when the 
general walked in. That's right, general, as in Army 
officer. It seems that some word had gotten out, the 
military had got wind of his little invention, and the 
place was crawling with military spook-types. They were 
sewing the project up tight as fast as they could.

He barely made it off the site with the goodies without 
getting his bags inspected, but the guards are just 
rent-a-cops so far, and they aren't used to the new 
procedures they are supposed to be following. In other 
words, he got lucky.

Jurgen has already protested bitterly about the 
militarization of the project and the lab, but I think 
he realizes it was only a matter of time. He has 
threatened to quit his job, which means retirement 
really, which I wouldn't mind one bit, but I don't 
think they are taking him seriously. I know better- I 
saw the expression on his face while he was yelling at 
the senior lab manager on the phone Friday night.

Anyway, we spent a delightful day lying in the sun 
yesterday. Sounds so peaceful and innocent, doesn't it? 
Hee-hee! Of course, what really happened was much more 
prurient, and if the truth be told, quite out of the 
realm of everyday human sensuality. I think most people 
would have considered it a religious experience. What 
we shared yesterday, the places we reached inside each 
other, cannot be expressed in words. I'll explain it in 
physical terms though, just to get the hot little 
details down between your steaming pages. 

As I wrote here before, Jurgen had made (or rather, had 
ordered) those two pairs of adoration pants from Remma-
wear, and had modified his own suit with the DSM to be 
just like mine. We experimented with it some on Friday 
night, during a little stress-relief session of love 
making. His suit is just like mine used to be, neck-
entry, which can be used with different hoods. 
Naturally, he exposed several hoods and the suit 
separately, so we wouldn't wind up with the material 
flowing together like mine did. I wonder how... oh, 
never mind. 

In any case, I picked up two breast pumps, those things 
nursing mothers sometimes use, and Jurgen has made a 
bizarre "milking machine" brassiere out of them. They 
are built into an old heavy-gauge rubber brassier of 
mine, with the original cups removed. He's attached 
hoses to each one, which go to a small suction pump and 
some kind of valve that pulses the suction. 

The thing felt weird yet wonderful at first, and seemed 
to make my breasts swell up even more, but once the 
milk started flowing, it was a great relief- now I can 
milk myself and save it for him for later. Which is 
precisely what I had done Friday night- saved a whole 
pitcher of milk. Jurgen has always been the top in our 
relationship, which is fine with me, but he agreed to 
let me put him in his "rigidized" suit, just to see 
what it was like. (We found out, a little to his 
chagrin, that light falling on the suit doesn't do a 
thing for him, as mine does for me, but that's small 
loss considering what he _does_ have that I don't.)

So anyway, I had a brainstorm, and fetched the milk. 
Not only did I pour it into the suit with him, letting 
him squirm around in it for a while, but I hooked up an 
enema bag and hose, ran it into his helmet in place of 
the breathing tube, and "force fed" him his dinner. He 
loved it! From the noises he was making, I'm sure he 
would have been thrashing around if it hadn't been for 
the solid restraint of his suit. Later, he told me that 
even having the milk against his skin had felt 
wonderful, with powerful tingling sensations and 
flashes of sexual warmth coming from his skin, as if he 
was absorbing it without even swallowing it. Well who 
knows, maybe he is. He said he came for what felt like 
minutes.

The breast size thing is starting to bug me, however. 
When I milked myself yesterday, I gave more milk than I 
ever have before and yet looking in the mirror 
afterwards, I realized my tits were bigger _still_, 
even though I had drained them completely. I have 
already reduced the hormone dosage, because I'm quite 
happy with them the way they are. Of course, Jurgen, 
being somewhat of a breast fetishist, is tickled pink.

So anyway, I haven't described Saturday yet, our big 
day of decadence. We had planned it all the night 
before, lying in bed and talking after our little 
session Friday. We got up early, just before dawn in 
fact, and made our preparations. We took a big air 
mattress that we used to keep around for guests out 
onto the back lawn, laid blankets out and so forth, and 
then got dressed. We each put on our special suits, and 
one pair of the adoration breeches, and went outside to 
await the sunrise.

As the sky grew lighter, I grew lighter-headed, and 
before the sun was even up, it was becoming very 
difficult to concentrate on the job at hand, and both 
our suits were becoming slightly stiff. We moved fast. 
I lay on my back on the mattress, while Jurgen crawled 
on top and astride me, then we each struggled into the 
helmet of the other's adoration pants.

We moved around a bit, getting comfortable, each of us 
with the other's sex in our mouth, while the sky grew 
lighter and the suits and pants got stiffer. In 
minutes, we were trapped, the rubber turned rigid, and 
as the first rays of the direct sun fell on me, I 
completely forgot what I had filling my mouth. I was in 
ecstasy again. Of course, as part of that, I lubricated 
freely, and Jurgen slurped it up greedily, his groans 
and moans reaching me faintly through the layers of 
rubber and my own personal haze of pleasure. 

At some point, I remember felating him in a distracted 
sort of way, and I know we both came many, many times 
that day, some of those times seeming to blur into one 
long, continuous, and simultaneous orgasm for both of 
us. We must have made one very bizarre looking piece of 
lawn sculpture, had anyone been able to see us.

By the time we could move again, as the last shreds of 
daylight fled from our lawn, we were both physical and 
emotional wrecks- very happy, sated, but utterly 
drained and exhausted.

Which delightful state we are still in today. A deep 
lassitude and happy paralysis having taken us, we are 
lazing around in bed, not really wanting to do anything 
at all. Jurgen is sketching, toying with some new ideas 
for bondage gear, although it seems obvious that we 
will no longer have access to the DSM, while I am 
writing in your cherished pages. My eyes are getting 
heavy again though, so I think I shall close for today. 
Right now, I feel like napping.
 

September 19th
--------------

Well now. I seem to have a dilemma. My breasts have 
continued to develop at an alarming rate, considering 
how few days have passed. I have gone from a D cup to a 
DDD in less than a month. I'm not sure if that would 
normally be possible, even with the hormones, but of 
course, I no longer have what anyone would call a 
normal physiology. I have had to change bra sizes twice 
in thirty days, and while the cost is no problem for 
us, I'm wondering where it will all stop! 

It is good that so much of my kinky wardrobe is made 
from latex, which has tremendous stretch, since I am 
busting out of many of my leather outfits. I have 
reduced the hormone dosage even further, and Jurgen has 
begun to complain that I'm not secreting enough for 
him, but I don't know what to do. I can't just keep 
getting larger, can I?

PS: Jurgen quit his job at the lab. We are now the 
youngest retired couple I know of, and very happy at 
that. They seem to have wanted to buy his silence, 
since they offered him a huge "bonus" for his work on 
the machine. He was going to refuse, out of anger and 
pride, but I talked some sense into him, pointing out 
that we could retire quite comfortably on that amount 
alone, and that having it on top of his handsome 
retirement income would make life very comfortable 
indeed.


September 29th
--------------

Ten days, and another cup size. This is getting 
ridiculous. I'm huge! I haven't gained any weight any 
where else, even though that is a common side effect of 
these hormones, according to the books. My breasts are 
now the size of honeydew melons, and my chest is some 
50 inches around. I can't find any brassieres in town 
that are large enough. 

Fortunately, one of the foundation shops gave me the 
address and phone number of a company that hand makes 
odd and extra large sizes, but when I called them, 
their prices were so high, Jurgen commented that I 
might as well just have custom made rubber and leather 
bras made. I think I'll do both- after all, I can go 
out again now, (although we are still debating how to 
handle my reappearance) and I'd like to have some 
normal bras as well, since wearing fetish clothes all 
the time takes away from their spice- one gets used to 
them.

It is good that Jurgen bought the larger size of breast 
pumps (which he made into my "milking machine") because 
I am nearly filling them now.


October 8th
-----------

No noticeable change in breast size this week. I am 
keeping my fingers crossed. Jurgen is having to make do 
with less from my sex, but he gets more real 
nourishment from my milk anyway. As my bust size has 
grown, it has become more and more pleasurable to be 
milked, to the point that I nearly go out of my head 
with arousal and lust during the procedure- I came just 
from having my breasts pumped today! 

What's worse (or better, depending on how you look at 
it) is that my milk production seems to have gone up 
proportionately to my bust size, so that I now need 
milking at least twice a day. I feel like a dairy cow! 
Jurgen is delighted with my new figure (he _would_ be) 
and I admit, I am getting used to it, although I still 
feel like a freak of nature. I have kept the rest of me 
in shape though, and when corsetted, I cut a very 
imposing, if somewhat unbelievable figure!

We have decided to announce to friends and family that 
we are getting back together, that the "divorce" was 
all a horrible mistake, and that my ridiculous breast 
enlargement is the result of a rare hormonal disorder. 
I hope they buy it. If not, they can just wonder, 
because they'll never hear the truth from us!

My sweet heart finally got around to showing off some 
of the other items he had "treated" with the DSM before 
they shut him out of the lab. The most striking was the 
clear rubber suit. He had made one of my regular suits 
crystal clear, just like that sample he had done. It's 
weird and eerie- when I wear it, it looks like I've 
been coated with glass. We both love the look.

Another interesting pair are the gloves and stockings. 
Remember that inverted form of the light-sensitive 
rubber he came up with? He dialed that in and treated a 
pair of my thicker gloves, and a pair of old but heavy 
gauge stockings. He also treated a thick rubber leotard 
with the other program. So if I wear them, I can move 
my arms and legs when the light is on, but my torso is 
held rigid. When the light goes out, they turn rigid, 
and my torso is free to bend. 

This morning he had me put my suit on, put one stocking 
on my right leg, and one glove on the left arm, then 
commanded me to make brunch. But the fiend had turned 
all the lights in the house topsy-turvy, with one room 
dark, blinds drawn, and the next brightly lit. Imagine 
trying to walk around like that, when one leg and one 
arm is stuck in one position for a while, and moments 
later, they are free and the others are stuck! The 
kitchen was worse (and even more comical to watch I am 
sure) since we have track lighting there, and he had 
turned them in all different directions, but had taken 
the bulbs out of the main area lights. 

Needless to say, I was hot, tired and frustrated by the 
time the food was ready, but the dear rewarded me 
nicely this afternoon however, so I have forgiven him.


November 11th
-------------

We have decided to move. Jurgen is afraid we will both 
find ourselves in hot water, if the truth is ever 
discovered about the changes he has wrought in our 
physiologies. The house is on the market, and as soon 
as it is sold, we are moving to Amsterdam. Life has 
gotten awfully busy as a result, so this may be the 
last entry in a long while.
 
 
FINI

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world 
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per 
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 49